There was a white curtained window around which roses and honeysuckle grew, and threw their tendrils about in a such a reckless way, that one or two had made up their minds to live in the room instead of outdoors, and were climbing around the window sash.
A little brass bedstead, a mantel with a blue and white lambrequin, a blue and white toilet set, pretty pictures on the wall, and a small bookshelf, made a very cozy looking nest for a little girl, and so Florence thought, who had no room of her own, but slept with an older sister.
They were both tired, and even the delightful topic of dolls could not keep them awake very long, for a half hour later when the moon looked in on her way across the sky, she saw them both sound asleep, an auburn head on Florence's pillow, and a yellow one on Dimple's.
CHAPTER II
Dolls
Florence and Dimple were on the back porch where it was always cool in the morning.
Bubbles was cleaning knives on the steps, the temptation to watch the dressing of the dolls being too great to keep her in the kitchen.
"I declare," said Dimple, "we haven't named them yet."