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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Town Types No. 23 - Little Miss Mix</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In a rather tiny building at the bottom of the street,<br>With a green door and a window small and very neat,<br>With its shock of beads and button-cards, cottons, bones and braid,<br>Miss Mix, the village dressmaker, plied a modest trade.<br>The front shop, with its counter, was a miniature affair,<br>And trivial the business that was conducted there.<br>But the back room - the workroom - 'Hours from Nine to Six' -<br>Was a vestal shrine whose priestess was little Miss Mix.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Tho' man had never gazed within, the sanctum held, 'twas known,<br>A wealth of female mysteries, for female eyes alone:<br>Dress-dummies, skirt-stands, a host of fashion fads,<br>Hip improvers, buckram shapes, curious bustle-pads.<br>But Mr Mole, who owned a store, and sold things ready-made,<br>Was oft-times strangely bitter over Miss Mix and her trade.<br>'A tittle-tattle factory!' said he. 'A gossip-shop!<br>With its babbling cotton-biters. Why, the thing had ought to stop.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And many another male declared that Mr Mole was right -=<br>Chiefly husbands - for the charges of Miss Mix were never light.<br>And, tho' they talked in that back room of fashion, style and cost,<br>Many characters were shattered, many reputations lost<br>As scraps of spiteful sibilants came drifting thro' that door:<br>'A hussy dear!' ... 'Such goings on!' ... 'And I heard something more.' ...<br>And many an unsuspecting wench was hounded to her doom<br>In mousey little Miss Mix's little back room. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When last I saw the old town, nigh twenty years ago,<br>Its street was little altered, its tempo still was slow;<br>But where the wee dressmaker's shop in old days used to stand<br>A 'modern' shop-front glittered, very 'arty,' very grand.<br>Now Miss Mix was known as Sarah in the days when I was young,<br>And her trade was 'Plain Dressmaking'; but now a shingle swung<br>All done in fancy wrought-iron, with twirls and scrolls and tricks:<br>'Costumiere. Parisian Modes. Direction: Sara Miques.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a></strong></div>