"I'm quite well, thank you," she responded, her manner exceedingly grown-up.
"There's only one thing about her that troubles us, Herr Schmidt," laughed Nell. "She's so good! She takes her medicine without a grimace! She's so meek and good I'm quite uneasy."
Sheila Pat fidgeted restlessly. She explained earnestly. "I'm not really good! I'm doin' it for—for a reason of my own."
Herr Schmidt seemed to think that exquisitely funny. He chuckled like a great fat baby.
"Ze funny little child!" he chuckled, "ze very funny little child."
He took off his spectacles, rubbed them with a gigantic handkerchief, and said, "Ach, I forget!" He fumbled in his coat-tail pocket; he dragged forth a limp and very much sat upon brown-paper parcel. He eyed it proudly.
"Ach, zat is why I zink her so nice for a bed! See, I sit on her, but it does not matter!"
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Denis in Nell's ear.
Herr Schmidt handed the parcel to Sheila Pat. He stood watching, beaming at her over his spectacles. Sheila Pat pulled off the paper; she gave a little gasp. There was a tense silence.
The present was a baby doll—a rag baby doll.