“Could you wait a minute?” begged Betsey. “You see, Mr. and Mrs. Delight are going to have a Christmas tree and invite some poor little children. And I want to write an invitation to Molly’s three dolls! She could send the dolls over by you when you come this afternoon, and perhaps I can take them back myself tomorrow.”
“Good enough!” said the doctor good-naturedly, sliding out of his coat again. “Molly will be so glad she won’t know what to do. I’ll wait.”
Betsey climbed in haste into the big desk chair and wrote carefully on her blue notepaper:
And on the little blue envelope she wrote, “For Molly’s three dolls.”
“I will deliver it directly,” said Dr. Lawrence, “and this afternoon I will bring the company.” And he blew a kiss to Betsey for thanks.
The moment the doctor had gone, Mr. Betts went to his shop and began on his Victrola, for this was to be Mr. Delight’s present to his wife. Mr. Betts cut the slender legs with a sharp penknife and bent out the tiny doors. Then he pasted shiny dark-red paper all over the outside and pushed in the crank.
“It almost looks as if it would play,” declared Betsey. Then she took a white pill and gargled a pink one, for she always kept her promise. Then all was ready.
“HE LEFT A PRINT OF EACH TINY FOOTSTEP”