"Mollie is the name of Helen's big doll—almost as large as she is," explained Mrs. Porter, who was now smiling through her tears. "Mollie isn't a little girl, though probably there are several in Lakeport named that. But the Mollie whom Helen means is a doll."
"Oh, I see," said Mr. Bobbsey. "But did the gypsies really take your doll, Helen?"
"Yes, they did," answered the little girl. "A bad gypsy man took her away. I was playing with Mollie in Grace Lavine's yard, and Grace and Mary went into the house to get some cookies. I stayed out in the yard with my doll, 'cause I wanted her to get tanned nice and brown. I laid her down in a sunny place, and I went over under a tree to set the tea table, and when I looked around I saw the gypsy man."
"Where was he?" asked Mr. Bobbsey.
"He was just getting out of one of the red wagons. And there was a little gypsy girl in the wagon. She was pointing to my doll, and then the man jumped down off the wagon steps, ran into the yard, picked up my doll, and then he jumped into the wagon again and rode away. And he's got my nice doll Mollie, and I want her back, and—oh, dear!" and Helen began to cry again.
"Never mind," said Mr. Bobbsey quietly. "I'll try to get your doll back again. How large was it?"
"Nearly as large as Helen herself," said Mrs. Porter. "I didn't want her to play with it to-day but she took it."
"Yes, but now the gypsy man with rings in his ears—he took it," explained Helen. "He carried my doll off in his arms."
"Then it must have been the doll which Johnnie saw the gypsy man carrying, and not Helen!" exclaimed Bert. "Did it look like a doll, Johnnie?"
"Well, it might have been. It had light hair like Helen's, though."