"Well, dearie," returned her mother, "the sooner you are dressed the sooner the secret will come. See, I am nearly ready to go down."
"Please help me, just this morning, mamma. It will make it so much easier, and it's my birthday, you know."
"Very well, since you are the person of importance to-day, I will help you."
"Hurry up, Florence," cried Dimple. "Come in here and I'll fasten your buttons while mamma does mine; then we'll get through all the sooner."
Although Dimple, the day before, had carefully selected the day's bill of fare, the breakfast was scarcely tasted, her favorite waffles offering no inducement for her to linger over them, so great was her excitement, and she watched eagerly till her father pushed back his chair, and declared himself ready for orders. It seemed to Dimple that he had never had such an appetite before, and she watched with anxious interest as he helped himself to waffles from each plateful that Bubbles brought in. There was a twinkle in his eyes as Dimple at last heaved a long sigh, and he immediately arose and led the way through the garden to the little new house between the house and the stable.
"We'll look in here," he remarked, as he unlocked the door.
Although Dimple had been quite curious to see the inside of the "house for little chicks," she was rather disappointed at the delay, for she thought, perhaps, her papa had something for her in the stable, a fox terrier, or maybe a goat, since she had expressed a wish for both. But when the door of the little house was opened her surprise was so great that she gave expression to one long-drawn "Oh-h!" and looked from one to the other half bewildered.
For, instead of a brooder and an "inkybator," she saw before her the dearest little room with white curtains at the window, a rug upon the floor, a small cooking stove in one corner, a table, chairs, and all to suit a little girl. Upon the shelves were ranged plates, cups, saucers and dishes, and a cupboard in the corner looked as if it might hold other necessary things for housekeeping. Moreover, her family of dolls sat along in a row on the window-seat, looking as expectant as is the nature of dolls to look.
"Well, Dot, how do you like it?" asked Mr. Dallas, smiling down at the child whose color came and went in her fair little face.
"Oh, papa! Oh, papa! is it truly my house?" she asked, clasping him closely.