After showing the dolly to Grandma, she unlocked the trunk and took out her mother’s letter.
“Oh, listen! Grandma, listen!” she burst out. “I’ll read it to you!”
Dear Mary Frances:
This is Mary Marie. Isn’t she lovely? She is the very doll I’ve been looking for, for my own dear daughter. Father has told you something about Mary Marie, but I want to add some particulars.
I have nothing to say about the care of her,—for I know my little girl’s careful, neat ways so well. You may be surprised when you unpack her trunk, to find no dresses. Mother is sending you, instead, all kinds of pretty goods which you may make up into dresses and clothes for your new little daughter; and you will find all kinds of laces and ribbons, and buttons, and hooks and eyes—everything Mother could think Mary Frances or Mary Marie could possibly want.
Unlocked the trunk
There is a set of toilet articles,—but I’ll not tell you about the other things, for I know you are anxious to find out for yourself.
A set
of toilet
articles
I wish I could be with you, dear, to teach you how to make the pretty things; but I will, I hope, be able to do that before so very long. Meantime, I want you to use everything just as you wish. I’ve asked Grandma to let you do exactly as you want to with these things, and I ask you not to go to her with your sewing problems: for the doctor said that Grandma must not strain her eyes with any such work. I know you understand.
I hope, dear, Mary Marie will bring a little bit of such pleasure to her Mother as her Mother has brought to me.
With love, and a bear hug,
Mother.
P.S.—Expect to be home before long.