Tora came again after coffee; as soon as she had locked the door, Milla whispered, as she put her arm round Tora's neck, that now she was going to give her a treat, she felt certain that it would please her. To no one, absolutely to no one, had she shown what Tora was going to see. The press there----
"The press, well----?"
"Once it held my dolls."
"Your dolls!"
"Every one knows that it does not now," said Milla; as she spoke she flung it open. The large double doors, both the upper and lower ones, flew back together, and the girls could see four storeys of a house; the bottom one a complete and marvellously dainty kitchen, scullery, and dining-room, above a drawing-room, a large elegant apartment with the most lovely furniture upholstered in silk, a black rosewood table, fireplace, looking-glass, clock. On the third storey a bedroom, with the sweetest little beds--real actual beds--and a wash-hand stand, where everything was to be found, down to the most minute details. On the fourth storey was the wardrobe, a magnificent doll's wardrobe. There were changes in silk, velvet, moiré antique, in different colours; a whole collection of materials which had not yet been made up; scraps of every description evidently collected with diligence and care during many years. All linen, even stockings, and other underclothing, all in duplicate, as well as hats, mantles, ornaments, belts.
Tora shrieked; she was down on her knees and up on tiptoe; she did not at first lay a finger on them, but devoured them with her eyes, unable to take in the whole--it could not be grasped all at once; there was too much, too great a variety, it was too wonderfully minute. She had not even counted the dolls yet. "One, two, three, four--five--six! seven!! eight!!!"
She had begun softly, but her voice rose at every number, so that Milla hastened to say, "Twelve, twelve, there are twelve."
"Twelve! actually twelve! Oh dear! oh dear! Have you kept all the dolls you have ever had in your life, never spoilt a single one?"
Well, yes she had, but never one since she was seven.
"Wait a minute." And solemnly, as though she were afraid they might disappear, Tora carefully put in her hand and took up the very, very sweetest doll in light red silk, with shoes and hat of the same colour, a dark red parasol, and a little fan stuck into her belt; her underclothes were made like a real person's, with lace and embroidery, a pocket in her dress with a pocket-handkerchief in it, and elegant French gloves which fitted her hands; as well a little brooch shaped like a forget-me-not, and bracelets and watch in the same style. Tora stood dumb with admiration, while she turned the doll round, inspected the cut and make of the dress, the underclothes; held it away from her, then close to her. At that moment there was a knock at the door. Some one had come right upstairs without the preoccupied girls having heard the least sound. They were startled. Milla held up her finger. She turned red and white. Of course it was Anna. But Anna had never seen the dolls, she would not understand.