“ ‘Tie a string round her neck and take her out bathing in the brooks,’ I heard an elderly voice say in severe tones. It was the Dowager Doll. She was inflexibly wooden, and had been in the family for more than one generation.
“ ‘It’s not fair,’ I exclaimed, ‘the string was only to keep you from being carried away by the stream. The current is strong, and the bank steep by the Hollow Oak Pool, and you had no arms or legs. You were old and ugly, but you would wash, and we loved you better than many waxen beauties.’
“ ‘Old and ugly!’ shrieked the Dowager. ‘Tear her wig off! Scrub the paint off her face! Flatten her nose on the pavement! Saw off her legs and give her no crinoline! Take her out bathing, I say, and bring her home in a wheel-barrow with fern roots on the top of her.’
“I was about to protest again, when the paint-box came forward, and balancing itself in an artistic, undecided kind of way on two camel’s-hair brushes which seemed to serve it for feet, addressed the Jack-in-a-box.
“ ‘Never dip your paint into the water. Never put your brush into your mouth——’
“ ‘That’s not evidence,’ said the Jack-in-a-box.
“ ‘Your notions are crude,’ said the paint-box loftily; ‘it’s in print, and here, all of it, or words to that effect;’ with which he touched the lid, as a gentleman might lay his hand upon his heart.
“ ‘It’s not evidence,’ repeated the Jack-in-a-box. ‘Let us proceed.’
“ ‘Take her to pieces and see what she’s made of, if you please,’ tittered a pretty German toy that moved to a tinkling musical accompaniment. ‘If her works are available after that it will be an era in natural science.’
“The idea tickled me, and I laughed.