“Come this way then,” and out into the big wide hall, and over a broad and winding staircase dim with the shaded light of a tall Colonial window, they went, then down a narrow passage, at the end of which were two cunning little steps.
“Here was our playroom—Sister’s and mine,” said Miss Parrott, pausing at a door, and taking a key from her black silk bag, she fitted it in the lock. And presently there they all three were in a long, low-ceilinged room. It had shelves on two sides filled with books and games, and dolls—and there was a small table in the center, and little chairs scattered about.
Miss Parrott turned her back on it suddenly, and made as if she were going out. But she faced the children in a minute and smiled, and again she put her hand to her heart.
“Now you can each pick out something, and I will tell you about it,” she said, seating herself on an old-fashioned broad sofa.
Polly stood quite still before her with shining eyes. “Can we really touch the things?” she asked.
“Yes, all you like,” and Miss Parrott actually laughed.
“Davie,” Polly ran up to him, “we can choose something and take it to her and she will tell us about it,” she said. Then she ran off to the corner where the dolls sat up in all their faded and old-fashioned glory.
David went over to one of the book-shelves. At first he only gazed; then he put a timid finger on one and another. At last he selected a worn old reader whose pages were interspersed with pictures, and holding it closely, he marched up with it to Miss Parrott’s sofa, just as Polly came flying up with a big rag doll in a little checked silk gown, a quaint neckerchief, and a big mob-cap.
“I will tell you about yours first,” said Miss Parrott, taking the doll. Then she laughed, “Well, you see Sister and I both had the promise of a new doll. We were to own it together, because that was the way we had everything,” and she waved her hand around the playroom. “Well, our mother had given the order to have it made and dressed, and its face was to be painted by a real artist. Oh, you can’t think how we watched for that doll. We were quite impatient for its arrival. The lady who was to dress it kept sending word that she had been detained from doing the work, but that it was to be quite fine. We were letting our imaginations run riot with all sorts of splendid ideas on just how that doll was to look. Sister decided it would be dressed in a pink satin gown with a little pink cap,—but I hoped it would be all in blue. Well, we used to watch at the window, a part of every day for the big box containing that precious doll.
“At last one day Sister was at the window, and she screamed ‘Judith—Judith!’”