"Ruth won't let me have that old doll and I'm going to get it, I am. I'll smash it all to pieces," cried Bertie, dancing up and down in a fury.
"Why don't you let him have it, Ruth?" said Mrs. Mayfield. "I'll get you a better one."
"I don't want a better one," replied Ruth, fiercely. "I don't want any but this. There isn't another like her and you couldn't get me one that would be half so dear."
"Well, I am sure you are very disobliging," said Mrs. Mayfield. "Never mind, Bertie, if you want a doll to play with mother will get you one much prettier than this."
"Don't want it. Want one to smash," cried Bertie.
"Oh, but you don't want to smash Ruth's doll, do you?" asked his mother in a coaxing tone.
"Yes, I do, I do. It's ugly and I'm going to. Make her give it to me, mamma."
"Do give it to him, Ruth," continued Mrs. Mayfield. "I will give you a much handsomer one. You shall go down-town with Mademoiselle and choose any you want."
But Ruth held steadfastly to her own. "I don't want any other and I couldn't give this away to be broken up," she said. "She's the only one of the family I have here to remind me of my home, and I can't give her up."
Whereupon, Bertie burst into screams of anger and disappointment, flinging himself upon the floor in one of his fits of temper.