"Very well. You may put it up for me," said Mrs. Williams, taking out her purse. "How much does it cost?"
"Ten dollars," said the man.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Nelly, "mine was only five, and it was just as big as this one."
The man looked a little embarrassed. The doll did not really cost ten dollars: it had only cost five; but he thought Mrs. Williams looked like a rich lady, and he might as well ask all he could get.
"Well, this cost me six dollars in New York," he said; "but there isn't much sale for them here: you can have it for seven."
Mrs. Williams paid him the seven dollars, and they drove away with the box with the doll in it, lying in Nelly's lap. Presently Nelly said:—
"Oh, Mrs. Williams, won't you let me send all Mrs. Napoleon's clothes to the little girl this dolly's for? I think they'd fit this dolly: don't you?"
"You dear little thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Williams; "would you really send all those pretty clothes to a little girl you don't know?"
"But you know her," said Nelly, "and you said you loved her; so I'd like to have her have them. Besides, I don't believe I'll ever have another dolly like Mrs. Napoleon: at any rate, not for a great many years."
"Very well, dear," replied Mrs. Williams: "I will take them. She will be all the more pleased to get so many extra suits. When we stop at the hotel, you can give them to me."