They put their lunch-basket and bags and bundles down on the floor, and sat down on the two sofas, facing each other. Nelly put her blue and white parcel in one corner of the sofa, lay down with her head on it, and was soon fast asleep. There were tears on her cheeks.
"Poor child!" said Mr. March; "this is her first real grief."
"I'm glad I ain't a girl," said Rob, bluntly; "I don't believe in dolls, do you, papa?"
Mr. March answered Rob's question by another.
"Do you believe in babies, Rob?"
"Why, of course, papa! What a funny question! I think babies are real nice. They're alive, you know."
"Yes," said his father; "but dolls are just the same to little girls that babies are to grown-up women. Nelly felt just like a mother to Mrs. Napoleon. She was a very good little mother too."
"Yes," said Mrs. March; "she was. I am very sorry for her."
"I'm real glad Deacon Plummer and Mrs. Plummer weren't here," said Rob.
"Why, why, Rob?" said his mother.