“I made believe to drink, but was only conscious of inhaling a draught of air with a slight flavor of tin. In taking my second cup I was nearly choked with the teaspoon, which got into my throat.
“ ‘What are you doing?’ roared the Jack-in-a-box at this moment; ‘you are not punishing her.’
“ ‘I am treating her as she treated me,’ answered Rosa, looking as severe as her smile would allow. ‘I believe that tit for tat is the rule, and that at present it is my turn.’
“ ‘It will be mine soon,’ growled the Jack-in-a-box, and I thought of the bonfire with a shudder. However, there was no knowing what might happen before his turn did come, and meanwhile I was in friendly hands. It was not the first time my dolly and I had set together under a tree, and, truth to say, I do not think she had any injuries to avenge.
“ ‘When your wig comes off,’ murmured Rosa, as she stole a pink kid arm tenderly round my neck, ‘I’ll make you a cap with blue and white rosettes, and pretend that you have had a fever.’
“I thanked her gratefully, and was glad to reflect that I was not yet in need of an attention which I distinctly remember having shown to her in the days of her dollhood. Presently she jumped up.
“ ‘I think you shall go to bed now, dear,’ she said, and, taking my hand once more, she led me to the big doll’s bedstead, which, with its pretty bedclothes and white dimity furniture, looked tempting enough to a sleeper of suitable size. It could not have supported one-quarter of my weight.
“ ‘I have not made you a night-dress, my love,’ Rosa continued; ‘I am not fond of my needle, you know. You were not fond of your needle, I think. I fear you must go to bed in your clothes, my dear.’
“ ‘You are very kind,’ I said, ‘but I am not tired, and—it would not bear my weight.’
“ ‘Pooh! pooh!’ said Rosa. ‘My love! I remember passing one Sunday in it with the rag-doll, and the Dowager, and the Punch and Judy (the amount of pillow their two noses took up I shall never forget!), and the old doll that had nothing on, because her clothes were in the dolls’ wash and did not get ironed on Saturday night, and the Highlander, whose things wouldn’t come off, and who slept in his kilt. Not bear you? Nonsense! You must go to bed, my dear. I’ve got other things to do, and I can’t leave you lying about.’