"Yes," answered Belle. "I should think she is! Oh, I want her so! Don't you, Mamie?"
"Indeed, I do," said Mamie with quite as much emphasis as Belle had used. "Indeed, I do."
"But I don't s'pose you want her as much as I do," said Belle; "least I don't s'pose you need her so much."
"Why not?" asked Mamie, half resenting such a supposition.
"'Cause you have your little sister to play with," said Belle, "and I have no sister, nor any mamma to play with me," she added with a half-smothered sigh.
That appeal seldom failed to touch the hearts of Belle's playmates and companions; the child's longing for her lost mother was so great, her sense of loneliness, at times, so pitiful; and the years which had passed since her mother's death seemed to have little or no power to weaken these in her loyal little heart.
Mamie stood silent. The doll was not yet hers to give up; but she now had a feeling as if she ought to wish that Belle, rather than herself, should be the fortunate possessor.
"I b'lieve if I had a little sister I should not care so much about dolls," continued Belle, with an air of deep consideration; "but this doll does seem so very real and live; doesn't she, Mamie?"
Mamie assented, with a half impatient, though unspoken wish that Belle did not care so very much about the doll.
"Belle," she said, "if I do have her, I will let you play with her a great deal; and sometimes I'll let you take her to your own house, if you'll be careful of her."