Snow wuz a settin’ to one side a playin’ with her little dolly that I had carried down to her—a nice one, with real hair, and very round blue eyes and red cheeks.
I bought it at Loontown, at a expense of over seventy-five cents, and dressed it myself, with a little of Philury’s help about the boddist waist.
Its dress wuz pink cambrick trimmed heavy with white linen lace—it wuz some I had on a nightcap, but it wuz so firm it had wore the nightcap out. It wuz a very good and amiable-lookin’ doll when we had got it all trimmed off, and Snow thought her eyes on it.
She had named it to once Samantha Maggie Tirzah Ann.
“After the hull caboodle on us,” as Josiah said; but at my request she called it Dolly.
Good land! I thought I never could hear her a goin’ round a talkin’ about Samantha Maggie Tirzah Ann. The idee! It would have been too much for her.
Wall, she wuz a settin’ a playin’ with Dolly, and anon sort o’ lookin’ up and talkin’ to somebody she didn’t see. Wuzn’t it queer how she would always do this, and smile confidential at ’em, and wave her little white hand to ’em sometimes, as if in greetin’ or good-bye?
Queer, but pretty in her, so I always thought.
I wish I knew who she had in her mind when she done it, or if she see anybody or hearn anybody. For once in a while she would sort o’ lift up her little smilin’ face and seem to listen—listen.