“I never had a doll since my mama died,” and there were tears in the child’s voice.
“But at Christmas—didn’t you ever get a doll?”
“I was in a home for orphan girls, Mrs. Johnson didn’t think it was right for girls to waste their time on dolls. One Christmas some store sent such a beautiful lot and she returned them all. Some of us cried and we had to learn a lot of bible verses about improving your time. Occasionally a girl would get a clothes pin and tie the middle of her handkerchief around the head, and play it was a baby, and lend it out, then they would all get punished. I used to feel so sorry. Dolls are so sweet if they are only make believe. Where I lived the babies had rubber dolls that they could bang on the floor, but they were ugly. This one is splendid.”
“That is mine,” said Edith. “One of our cousins brought it from Paris. It can walk a little and say ‘Mama.’ I’m too big to play 264 with dolls, and I’ve given the others to May and Jessie.”
“And we play tea with them. It is so lovely out on the back porch in the summer and mother lets us take the things down there. And I can make clothes,” said May. “But now you can have a doll, because you are going to have some money of your very own.”
“Yes,” she returned slowly.
There were many pretty things that Marilla wondered at. Edith took out her doll and put it in the visitor’s arms. It had such a lovely face that Marilla hugged it up tight and wanted to kiss it. Why it was fifty times sweeter than the twins.
Then they led her to their room. There were two pretty brass beds.
“Edith has the smaller one because she sleeps alone,” explained May, “and we little ones love to sleep together.”
There were two chiffoniers, and a big closet between the rooms, two pretty willow rockers and some lovely pictures beside various small gifts one could hang up or stand around. How charming it was!