THE WEST END OF THE TOWN
Our house was in Hanover Square, a few doors from the Queen’s Concert
Rooms. There happened to be a morning concert on the first day of my
arrival, and as one of the drawing-room windows, where I sat with my
little lady mamma, opened out upon the balcony, we could every now and
then hear the trumpets and drums, and one violin which squeaked so
sweetly high above all the rest.
At four o’clock my new mamma went out for a drive in her carriage with
her governess, and chiefly to buy several things for me. Of course, I
went too.
First we drove to pay a visit to a young lady in Grosvenor Square,
and after this we drove to a toy-shop in Oxford Street, and there the
little Lady Flora bought me a cradle of delicate white basket-work,
with a mattress and pillow covered with cotton of pale pink and lilac
stripes. She wanted a feather-bed; but they had not got one. The
governess then bought a large, handsome doll, chosen by Lady Flora, to
send to my dear first mamma, Ellen Plummy, in exchange for me, and also
a nice cradle, and one or two other things which I did not see.
We next went down Regent Street, and sent the very tall footman with
the gold-headed cane and powdered hair into every shop that seemed
likely, to ask if they had a doll’s feather-bed. But none of them had.
One young person, however, dressed in black, with a pale face, and her
hair very nicely plaited, came out to the carriage window and said,
‘They would be most happy to make a feather-bed for the doll, if her
ladyship would allow them that honor!’ My little lady mamma, however,
said, ‘Certainly not--I thank you.’
We passed the Regent’s quadrant, after sending into two or three shops,
and then turned up Piccadilly, and got out at the Burlington Arcade.
But no such thing as a doll’s feather-bed could be found. The little
lady, however, bought me a small gold watch and chain, which cost a
shilling. We then returned to the carriage, drove down Waterloo Place,
and sent into several shops to inquire, while we slowly drove towards
the Duke of York’s column. My lady mamma explained to me that the black
doll on the top was once a great duke, who was at the head of all the
army when he was alive, in the same way that he was now at the top of
that fine column. The very tall footman presently returned, saying he
was very sorry to inform Lady Flora that he had not been so fortunate
as to discover a doll’s feather-bed at any of the shops; so we turned
round and drove up Bond Street, and tried at several shops with no
better success; then we passed again down Oxford Street, and went to
the Soho Bazaar.
There, at the top of a long room--on the left-hand side--in a
corner--there, at last, we did find a doll’s feather-bed, and of a very
superior quality. No doll in the world, and particularly a wooden doll,
could have wished for anything softer. At the same place were also many
articles of furniture, such as dolls of the higher class are accustomed
to have, and some of these were bought for me. That which I was most
pleased with was a doll’s wardrobe made of cedar wood, with drawers for
clothes in the middle, and pegs to hang dresses upon at each side, and
all enclosed with folding doors, and smelling so sweet. All of these
things being carefully packed up in silver paper, and then placed one
upon the other, were given to the very tall footman with powdered hair,
who, receiving them with a serious face, and carrying them balanced on
the palm of one hand, and holding up his long gold-headed cane in the
other, slowly walked behind us, with his chin raised high out of his
white neckcloth, to the admiration of everybody in the bazaar, as we
returned to our carriage.
We now drove once more into Regent Street, to a pastry-cook’s, and
there I was left lying upon the seat of the carriage all alone, while
Lady Flora and her governess went to have something nice. But I did not
care much about this, as my mind was occupied with several thoughts.
In the first place, the pastry-cook’s window, though very elegant,
presented nothing like the brilliant appearance of Mr. Plummy’s
shop-window on Twelfth-night! No--that first impression exceeded
anything else of the kind, and was never to be effaced. But there was
one other thought that troubled me a little. It was this. I had been
accustomed hitherto to think myself not only very pretty, but one of
the very nicest and best dolls that could possibly be. I had always
understood that the celebrated Mr. Sprat, who had made me, was one of
the very first doll-makers in England! The master of the doll-shop in
Holborn, who had walked to and fro, like Napoleon Bonaparte in a brown
paper cocked hat, had said so in my hearing, and I had believed it.
I naturally considered myself a charming doll. But I had seen many
other dolls of quite a different make in the Soho Bazaar!--dolls which
I could not help fancying were superior to any of those made by poor
Mr. Sprat, and therefore very superior to myself. This thought hurt my
vanity and humbled me. Of course I had been very vain and conceited.
What else could you expect of a doll? But now I certainly felt much
less vain, for I plainly saw that there were other dolls in the world
who were far prettier and better made than myself. However, as I had
been already beloved by two mammas, I soon became contented, and felt
no jealousy or envy of the prettiness or fineness of others; and I also
believed that if I was amiable, and could become clever, I should never
be without somebody to love me.
My mamma and her governess now returned to the carriage and we drove
home.
[Illustration]