“Had one?”
“I mean I've never been to any. What do they dress up for?”
“Why—why, because they do, of course. Now don't ask any more questions, but hurry up. Where are you goin' now, for mercy sakes?”
“I was goin' back after Rose and Rosette. They ought to be dressed up, too, hadn't they?”
“The idea! Playin' dolls today! I declare I never see such a child! You're a reg'lar little—little heathen. Would you want anybody playin' dolls at your own funeral, I'd like to know?”
Mary-'Gusta thought this over. “I don't know,” she answered, after reflection. “I guess I'd just as soon. Do they have dolls up in Heaven, Mrs. Hobbs?”
“Mercy on us! I should say not. Dolls in Heaven! The idea!”
“Nor cats either?”
“No. Don't ask such wicked questions.”
Mary-'Gusta asked no more questions of that kind, but her conviction that Heaven—Mrs. Hobbs' Heaven—was a good place for housekeepers and grown-ups but a poor one for children was strengthened.