THE LITTLE MILLINERS
My life at the pastry-cook’s passed in a very pleasant manner; but
not because of the cakes or pastry. For, in the first place, every
night was not like Twelfth-night; and as for the pastry, though I
was delighted to see it for some time, and to notice how much it was
admired and longed for, yet, in the course of a few weeks, I had seen
so many little girls and boys make themselves unwell by eating too
many raspberry tarts and cheesecakes, that I almost ceased to take
any further interest in those things. My eyes were constantly employed
in observing the different people who came in and out, or passed by
the door and window; my ears were constantly attentive to all that was
said; and my mind was busily engaged in thinking over all I had seen,
and all I had heard, both spoken and read from books, ever since I was
a doll. By these means I advanced my education very much, because my
memory became stronger by practice, and my understanding was improved
by this habit of thinking over everything to myself. I believe no doll
ever lived who was more anxious to learn and know about all sorts of
things--good, pretty, or wonderful--than I was.
I soon had an opportunity of seeing a very different set of things
from the cakes, and tarts, and buns, and sugar-plums. We left our
abode at the pastry-cook’s. Ellen Plummy was sent to be a milliner
to her aunt, who employed a great number of girls in making ladies’
dresses. Ellen was only seven years old, and she cried at leaving her
kind grandfather’s; but he kissed her, and told her he knew it would be
best for her, so she dried her eyes and tried to look cheerful; and her
brother Thomas carried her little grey box. She carried me herself in
her arms.
Her Aunt Sharpshins was a very tall, thin, pale-faced woman, who was
always dressed in a long gown made close up to the throat, of the color
of old nankeen, with a faded bed-furniture pattern round the hem at the
bottom. She had a nose like a parrot’s beak, and always spoke through
it. She kept fifteen little milliner girls in the house, who were her
apprentices, and obliged to work as long as she pleased. The youngest
was about ten years of age; her name was Nanny Bell, and she and my
mamma Ellen became great friends directly.
Now this tall Aunt Sharpshins, with the parrot’s nose, made her fifteen
little milliners all work together in the same room, all seated upon
small chairs without backs, so that they could not lean backwards to
rest themselves. And she made them work the whole day, from six o’clock
in the morning till eight o’clock at night, with only about half an
hour’s rest at one o’clock, when they were all called downstairs to
dinner in the back parlor of the house. Some of the poor girls often
cried, or fell asleep and tumbled off their chairs, they were so tired.
If this misfortune happened to them, Mrs. Sharpshins used to give them
only bread and water for dinner; and sometimes she was so cruel as even
to give them a loud slap on the shoulders.
One day my mamma Ellen and Nanny Bell were sitting alone together in
the back parlor after dinner, to talk a little, as Aunt Sharpshins had
gone out to take some dresses home. ‘Ah,’ said Ellen, ‘I do so wish
to go back to my grandfather’s, he was such a kind pastry-cook; and
my brother Tom was so very fond of me always. I am so sorry to be a
milliner; and although my aunt says I am to be her partner, perhaps,
when I grow up, yet I do not like it.’
‘But then,’ said Nanny Bell, ‘you would be much kinder to all of us
than your aunt is. You would not make us work so long every day, would
you? and have so little rest, would you, Ellen? and such poor, cold
dinners, with not enough either--now, would you?’
‘That I would not!’ exclaimed Ellen, giving me a toss in the air with
both hands, ‘that I would not! You should only work as long as I worked
myself; and when I was tired, then I should know that all of you must
be tired, and I should say, “Now let’s go downstairs, and have each a
large slice of cake.” Then, in the evening, as soon as it was dark, and
we began to feel our eyes sore with looking at the work, we would again
go downstairs, and all have tea together, and after that a dance;
and we would dance reels and jigs, and hornpipes, and quadrilles, but
mostly reels.--Hark! Aunt Sharpshins is ringing at the door!’ And away
the two little girls ran scampering upstairs; and in her haste and
terror Ellen gave my head such a knock against the banisters! But she
was so sorry, and kissed me so often to make it well.
Up to this time I had never been properly dressed; for, excepting a
strip of bright blue ribbon round my waist, and a small cap of purple
silk stuck on the back of my head, I was in the very same long white
night-gown which Ellen had made for me when I first went to the
pastry-cook’s house, and in which I made my first appearance in the
shop among all the gas-lights and cakes on Twelfth-night. So my dear
mamma and Nanny Bell determined to make me a proper dress.
[Illustration]