"Did you?" said Rachel, beginning to finger the doll with sudden interest.
"Yes, and I made her clothes and talked to her, and sometimes I called her
'Sister,'" said Miss Parrott, quite gone in remembrance.
"Oh!" said Rachel.
"You see, she was all I had. I was the youngest, and my real sister was married and away, and my brothers were men when I was a little girl."
"Oh!" said Rachel again.
"And so I had to make believe that Priscilla was alive," said Miss Parrott, her eyes glowing with remembrance of her childhood, brought so singularly near on this morning; "I really had to Rachel."
"I've got a child," said Rachel, growing suddenly communicative, and looking up from the old doll to watch the effect of her announcement.
"Have you, dear?" responded Miss Parrott, quite pleased at the bright face, from which the last tear had been wiped away.
"Yes, my Phronsie gave her to me, and she sleeps with me," said Rachel, in great satisfaction.
"I suppose she is very much like Priscilla," observed Miss Parrott.