It was, indeed, a beautiful sight. A box in one of the front corners contained a pile of pocket handkerchiefs. Another at the left was filled with ribbons of various colors used for her hair and her neck. Each piece was rolled up nicely and laid by itself. Then there was a tiny box, holding a pretty brooch,—her last birthday gift from papa. A black silk apron and two or three white ones neatly folded lay at the back part of the drawer.
The next two contained different kinds of under clothes, each variety in a pile by itself.
"She puts everything away herself," explained her mamma. "Hannah lays her clean clothes on the bed, as they come up from the wash; and when she comes home she takes care of them without being reminded to do so. But look here?"
The lady opened the underdrawer, and displayed a beautiful wax doll covered with a small quilt pieced from tiny scraps of bright-colored silk. Miss Rose Standish lay with a sweet smile on her round face; and well she might smile, for there within her reach at the back part of the drawer was every thing in the shape of a wardrobe which the most extravagant dolly could desire. There was a set of white furs, muff and tippet to match; and another set of gray with the cunningest little wristers you ever saw. There were hats with plumes, and hats with velvet trimmings, and sacks, and skirts, and shoes and parasol to shade the little Miss from the sun. Oh, it would be easier to tell what there was not!
"It's a perfect show," exclaimed Mrs. Roby. "It's as good as Barnum's baby show. I wonder what aunt Lydia will say to it."
"The best of it is," added mamma, "that she has made the most of the clothes herself. I used to cut and baste for her; but of late, she has had a pattern and cut them herself. Her father says he hopes she will play with dolls till she is married. He is enthusiastic on the subject. Why, you'd laugh to hear him talk. He believes that, the dressing and undressing of dolls, and disciplining them, as Emily does hers, is the very best preparation for the duties of a mother that a child can possibly have. He would give Emily any amount of money she would ask to buy materials to make up for Miss Rose. By and by, I must tell you a story about that gray set of furs."
"Tell me now, please. I'm sure," added Mrs. Roby laughing, "if I had ever disbelieved in hereditary traits, I would give up my doubts after this."
"What do you mean?"
"Why from the stories I've heard Aunt Lydia tell about you, I think Emily is just her mamma over again."
"Yes, I used to be ridiculously fond of dolls, there is no denying it; but in those days, a wax doll was a thing unknown. My best doll was a beauty though. She had eyes that shone like diamonds, and painted curls. I used to call her Esther, after Queen Esther, I suppose; and I was very proud of her."