“O dear!” exclaimed Polly.
“And so our mother said ‘Very well,’ and she had the tissue paper all put back over the doll, the cover put on and the box tied up. And then it was taken away and put up on a shelf over the linen press.”
“O dear!” breathed Polly again.
“And that doll stayed up there all one year, and we never said we were sorry, and asked for her. And one day an awkward servant in cleaning that shelf, knocked the box off, and then he became frightened, so he opened it to see if he’d broken anything. And somebody calling him, he left the box on the floor, and a little dog we had, a mischievous creature, ran into the linen-room and stuck his nose in the box.”
“O dear!” exclaimed Polly and David together.
“And Towsle—”
“Was that his name?” asked Davie, pressing up to her black silk gown in great excitement.
“Yes, dear,” said Miss Parrott, smiling down into his blue eyes. “Well, Towsle nipped that doll up in his sharp teeth, and ran off down-stairs with her. And Sister heard him coming and she called ‘Towsle—Towsle’ for she wanted him to come and play with her. But Towsle was going to have a great deal more pleasure he thought with the doll, so he hid behind one of the big carved chairs in the hall. And then when he thought she had gone safely by, he crept out. But she spied him, and she screamed, ‘Oh, he’s got our doll!’ and Uncle John, who was in the sitting-room with Mother, ran out with her. But Towsle—oh, there was no catching him then, for—”
“And didn’t they catch him?” burst in Davie with round blue eyes.
“Why, yes, dear,” Miss Parrott pointed to the doll in her lap.