Sally had picked herself up, and was stroking down her things.
Tibbie stood beside her, looking up in her face, her own a trifle pale.
Sally's irresolution lasted only a second. She cast an eye on the dolls, saw that they were very nearly as she had found them, and turned down the light. She looked about Mrs. Darling's room to see that all was as usual, and turned down the lights there too, after glancing at the clock.
"It ain't late," she murmured. "It ain't a bit later than I supposed. It can't be her! It might be Mrs. Bonnet, though, getting home before Catherine, who's got the key. I shouldn't want her to catch you here for the whole world. Look here, Tibbie. You stand in here till I find out who it is, and if it's Mrs. Bonnet, you'll have to stay hidden till I find a good chance to come and smuggle you down."
Tibbie waited in the farthest corner of the hall closet, holding her breath, conscious of nothing at first but excitement and fear of she did not know quite what. After a little, the thought drifted across her fervent hope for present safety, that though she got well out of this scrape, she would probably never see those radiant dollies again, her own half or Sally's.
She heard a whiffling and scratching at the closet door. Here was Jetty, dear Jetty, whose actions would surely betray her to Mrs. Bonnet when she came that way. Tibbie whispered: "Go right away, Jetty. There's no one in this closet; go right away!" and pressed backward to the wall, among the water-proofs, feeling like a little criminal with the police on her track.
"Tibbie!" came Sally's voice from the foot of the stairs: it sounded perfectly calm, and pleasant with a sort of company pleasantness. "It's all right. It's just a friend dropped in for a moment. You can go in again and play a little longer. Turn up the light carefully. But remember what I told you."
Tibbie instantly forgot all her fears. She came out and picked up Jetty; she kissed him, explaining why she had told him to go away. The doggie seemed to bear no malice.
Tibbie tiptoed into the doll-room, and established herself on her knees before the dolls, happier than before, with a profounder happiness, in a stiller, almost devotional mood. It was so different being alone with them, having them quite to herself, to play with in her own way. She took up the bride with a reverent hand, and after long contemplating her, very seriously, tenderly kissed her. Then, touching them as if they had been snow-flakes almost, she moved the impressive little persons about, until her fifty were on one side and Sally's on the other.
"I can't play they're a family," she reflected; "they are too many all the same age, and all girls. I will play they are a hundred girls in an orphan asylum—a very rich orphan asylum—and that I am the superintendent. To-morrow I am going to give each a beautiful doll for a Christmas present. This little girl's name is Rosa. That one is Nelly. That one is Katy. That one is Sue." She named every one, passing through the list of such names as Golden-locks, Cherrylips, Diamondeyes, to end with such invented ones as Kirry, Mirry, Dirry, Birry. They seemed so much completer with names. Tibbie would say, "Miss Snowdrop!" And Miss Snowdrop, with Tibbie's assistance, would rise, answering, "Yes, ma'am." "Spell knot." "N—O—T!" "Not at all, my dear. Sit down again, my dear. Miss Lily; stand up, miss, and see if you can do any better this morning."