Frances caught her breath at the idea of such a doll, but was a little disappointed when her hostess took from a drawer a fine lady, whose hair was done up in a French twist, and whose silk gown was made with a train. She was certainly very elegant, however, and her muff and collar were sure enough sealskin, as Gladys explained.
"She is beautiful, but I believe I like little girl dolls best," Frances said.
Gladys brought out others of all varieties and sizes, and while her visitor examined them, she herself talked on without a pause.
"Where did you get your name?" she asked.
Frances, who was adjusting a baby's cap, replied that she was named for her great-grandmother.
"Are you? How funny! Mamma named me for a lady in a book—Gladys Isabel. She doesn't like common names."
Frances wondered if Gladys thought her name common, and for a moment she wished she had been called something more romantic.
"There is a girl who lives here in the winter," continued the chatterbox, "whose name is Mathilde. Isn't that funny? It's French—and she has the loveliest clothes! I wish you could see her—she hasn't come yet. And just think! she has diamond earrings. Have you any diamonds?"
Frances shook her head, feeling very insignificant beside a girl with a French name and diamond earrings.
"I have a diamond ring, but mamma won't let me wear it all the time for fear I'll lose it," said Gladys. "Haven't you any rings?" and she glanced at the plump little hands of her guest.