Durkin reached into the car as he spoke, and hauled out the doll house. He set it down on the stony soil directly in front of him, and folded his arms, his eyes darting toward his stepson in surly challenge.
"Come here, Robbie!" he called out. "Look what I've got for you!"
Robert scrambled to his feet with a startled gasp, and Emily turned to look at her mother in bewilderment, Durkin glanced triumphantly at his wife, stepped back, and waited for the children to approach.
Robert came forward slowly, stark incredulity in his stare. His sister followed at a less cautious pace, her fear swallowed up by the miracle that had taken place before her very eyes.
Robert spoke first. "Golly, it's a little house."
"A doll house!" Emily elaborated, falling to her knees, and staring in through the diamond-bright windows at a sight that made her catch her breath.
In a room on the ground floor four dolls sat at a circular table. Before each was a knife and fork, a tiny plate and a double serving of wax vegetables. The husband doll wore a stiff, ill-fitting store suit, the wife a checkered gingham dress, and the two children blue denim overalls.
The parents were wooden dolls, but Durkin had been forced to purchase the children separately, and insert them in the house. The children were made of some new-fangled plastic material which Durkin intensely disliked. But very lifelike dolls they were, and just the right size to lend wings to the illusion of a happy family about to break bread together.
"That's me!" Emily cried excitedly.