Still desperately wanting to believe there was good in this world, the little girl swallowed her fears and approached the rusted workshop, walking closely behind the thin man.

Looking down at the little girl, the wiry man quickly muttered under his breath, “Keep your mouth closed and play along. 'E don't like strangers, but I'll make sure 'e takes ya. D'ya understand?”

Trying her hardest to conceal her building anxiety, the little girl gave a simple, single nod.

“Good girl.”

Knocking three times on the old, wooden door, the wiry man took a single step back and waited.

Moments later, a sharp, aggravated voice was heard from within.

“Who goes there?”

“It's me, sir. I've brought you what you asked for,” replied the bandy-legged man.

These words confused the little girl; the man in front of her could not possibly have been referring to her, as they had only just met. She told herself that it must be something else he had been asked to bring.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a gaunt elderly man with sharp features and thin glasses perched atop his pointed nose.

“Where is it, then?” he asked.

“'Ere she is!” exclaimed the shabby man, pointing to the little girl with an open palm.

Squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow, the Doll-Maker spoke, “No, this is most definitely not what I asked for. If this is your idea of a joke, all you have succeeded in doing is waste my time. Now, begone with you, and do not come back until you bring me what I require.”

“One moment please, sir,” implored the man, as he forcibly placed his hand on the rapidly-closing door.

“This lil' girl is exactly wha' you've been looking for. Gimme a moment of your time, and I'll show you wha' I mean.”

Looking from the door to the pleading man with cold eyes, the Doll-Maker opened his door.

“You have two minutes, Squidge. No more.”

“Ah, thank you, sir. I knew you were a man of grace,” replied the man, abruptly placing his hand on the little girl's back and pushing her in.

As she entered the mouth of the structure, a strange, unfamiliar smell stung her nostrils. Adjusting to the softer tones within, the little girl took note of her new surroundings.

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Directly in front of her stood a large work area, mostly covered in various sharp tools and wood shavings that had spilled over on-to the surrounding floor beneath, covering most of it. Immediately below the desk, she spotted a dark gray sheet covering a small mound of something she couldn't quite make out. Squinting, however, the little girl spotted what appeared to be a partially exposed white, circular object protruding from a corner.

Dirty, gray wooden shelves hung sporadically along the walls, on top of which various motionless small toys and dolls stared back at her with their glass eyes.

To the immediate right of the desk was what looked like an unmade bed consisting of a single mattress and an off-white sheet. Looking to her right, the little girl saw a row of human-like dolls, the likes of which she had never seen—so lifelike were their faces; so flawlessly beautiful and intricate they were. To their right, however, a pile of clothes-less, chipped dolls lay haphazardly strewn in the corner.

The thin man followed the Doll-Maker, who resumed his work behind his desk. The candle light from the stick on the table projected a long and twisted shadow of the Doll-Maker on the wall behind him. Without looking away from his work, he stated, “Speak, then.”

Bowing slightly once again and wearing a cunning smile, the thin man replied, “Of course, sir. Of course. Even though she looks small, she's actually pre'e strong, sir, and fast! She'll 'ave your head spinning, she will! She's also a quick learner, sir. She'll pick up anyfink you tell 'er well quick!”

Despite what the thin, shabby man had told her moments earlier, the little girl's anxiety grew and grew at the strange sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded and saturated her. So much so, in fact, that her little stomach began to growl and hurt. Even so, she clung on to the hope that there was good in the world and that it would all be okay.

“She'll even do your cleanin',” continued the wiry man. 'An it's not like anyone is goin' ta come lookin' for 'er, 'cos 'er parents 'ave gone.”

At this, the Doll-Maker abruptly looked up at the thin man with a sudden look of interest in his eyes, though he soon regained control of himself and said, “Parents? Gone?” Without moving his head, his eyes darted to the little girl as he continued to speak. “When? Where?”

“ ...Eeer, I don' know, sir. I found 'er tonight alone on the streets, cryin'...”

“Still your mouth!” The Doll-Maker walked stiffly around his desk and stood beside the little girl.

“What happened to your parents, my dear?”

Hesitantly, the little girl looked up at the thin man, as if to ask whether she should answer, and, receiving an urgent nod, she turned her eyes to the Doll-Maker and said, “I...I don't know...”

“Think, girl!” exclaimed the Doll-Maker in frustration. Catching himself, he regained his composure and spoke through a forced, thin-lipped smile. “What I mean to say, of course, is when did you see them last, dear?”

Now visibly shaking, the little girl replied in a low voice, “They left me at home with the housekeeper because they wanted to go to see a concert, but they didn't come back...” As she recalled the events, the little girl's eyes began to well up, and she struggled to continue. “The...The housekeeper stayed for a day but had to go...after three days—”

“Three days,” interjected the Doll-Maker. “They disappeared three days ago?”

“Y...Yes.”

His eyes briefly glazed over as he momentarily became furiously deep in thought. Suddenly, he plunged his hand into his pocket, pulling out a shiny, round silver coin, which he flipped at the bandy-legged man.

“She'll do. Here, as promised.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you,” gleefully exclaimed the thin man, as he slowly walked away backwards, while repeatedly bowing, holding his cap in both hands.

As he turned to face the door, he looked at the girl, winked, and was gone, leaving her alone with the Doll-Maker for the first time.