"It won't do any good to fret about it, you know, Miss Dorry. Come, now, you'll have the awfulest headache that ever was, if you don't brighten up. When you're in trouble, count your blessings—that's what I always say; and you've a big share of 'em after all, dear. Let me make you a nice warm cup of tea—that'll build you up, Miss Dorry. It always helps me when I—Sakes! what's that?"
"What's what, Liddy?" said Dorry, languidly raising her head from the pillow. "Oh, that's—that's her—that's Aunt Kate's frock and apron. Yes, and here's something else. Here's Delia—I'll show her to you."
And so saying, she rose and stepped toward the cabinet.
"Show me Delia! Merciful heavens," cried Liddy, "has the child lost her senses?"
But the sight of the doll reassured her.
"Oh, that's Delia, is it?" she asked, still wondering; "well, where in the world did it come from?"
Dorry told her all about the discovery of the little trunk that had been hidden in the garret so many years.
"Oh, those miserable house-cleaners!" was Liddy's wrathful comment. "Only to think of it! We had 'em workin' up there when you twins were too little to spare me, and I've never felt easy about it since, nor trusted any one but myself to clean that garret. To think of their pushin' things in, 'way out of sight and sound like that!"
This practical digression had a good effect on Dorry. Rousing herself to make the effort, she bathed her face, smoothed her hair, and seizing her hat and shawl, started with a sigh to fulfil her promise to Donald.
And all this time, Liddy sat stroking and folding the little pink dress and black apron.