“Betsey, Betsey! What on earth do I smell?” called Tom.
“You smell Mr. Delight’s marble floor,” replied Betsey.
“Hum,” said Tom, gazing at the tiny room fast growing white. “Which will you have, right or left?”
“O I love to guess,” cried Betsey. “Right!”
“Better guess right and left,” said Tom, holding out both hands. In one was a white china mustard-boat, and in the other, a half a hollow rubber ball. “I found them out in the rubbish box, and it struck me that the mustard-boat would make a good bathtub,” said Tom.
“And the ball will make a set-bowl!” cried Betsey.
“Good,” said Tom admiringly. “I never should have thought of a set-bowl. Paint the inside white and set it in a square of cardboard.”
“And I’ll paint the pipe that holds it up with silver,” said Betsey, “and hang one of my new mirrors over it!”
The next day when Betsey was happily doing all these things, the mail came. Such a fat letter as Mary sent! One sheet was from Mrs. Delight to her busy little husband, only she didn’t know he was busy, and thought he must be nearly dead from lonesomeness. And she said at the end of her tiny letter: “I am so afraid that you are lonesome, I have almost decided to come right home.”
Betsey instantly rushed for her doll’s paper and envelopes with Mr. Delight’s tiny monogram on them, and wrote as fast as she could, in Mr. Delight’s bold hand-writing,