The advent of the Wheezy was an enormous affair in Felice's life. It
was one of the first times that the child was taken outside of the
house or the garden--that blustery March day when she and Mademoiselle
walked around the corner to a small house in whose basement window
rested a sign, WOMAN'S EXCHANGE AND EMPLOYMENT AGENCY. A tiny bell
jingled as they entered and from behind the curtains at the rear
emerged a little woman whose face looked like the walnuts that were
served with grandpapa's wine, very disagreeable indeed. Felice always
spoke of her as The Disagreeable Walnut. It was in this shop that she
saw her first doll, a ridiculous fat affair constructed of a hank of
cotton with shoe buttons for eyes and a red silk embroidered mouth and
an enormous braid of string for hair. And it was while she was
rapturously contemplating it that she heard the wizened proprietor say,
"Do you wish to have the work done by the job or by the day?" Then the
Disagreeable Walnut pompously consulted a huge dusty ledger from which
she decided that a certain Miss Pease would suit their requirements.

"Two dollars a day and lunch," she informed them curtly and that was
the way that Wheezy came into Felicia's life.

Short, fat, asthmatic and crotchety, she grumbled incessantly because
there wasn't anything so modern as a sewing machine in the house and
said that for her part she didn't see how people thought they could
get along on nothing except what had done for their ancestors, that
she certainly couldn't.

"Haven't you any ancestors?" Felice asked her eagerly. The Wheezy
snorted.