“No, papa, a dolly”; and Annette pressed in her arms the bit of stick enveloped in a piece of gay calico which served her as a substitute for the dearest of all toys.
Two days later, when the little girl was helping her mother to gather the wax berries from the twigs, so that the yearly supply of candles might be made, they heard from the Bayou the cheerful song of the negroes as they rowed homeward.
“Come, mamma, oh, come and see my dolly”; and Annette ran away, while her mother followed more slowly, talking to old Marie, who was carrying in her arms a young Pierre, Annette’s little brother, who had been born since they had lived in the new home.
With a pleased face Monsieur Valvier leaped ashore, hardly waiting for the boat to reach the landing. In his arms he held two parcels carefully wrapped in silver paper.
“Now, mamma shall guess first what is in her parcel,” he said; but Annette could not wait for that, and stood close at his side, saying over softly to herself,—
“My dolly, my pretty, pretty dolly.”
“Give Annette hers first,” said Madame Valvier; “it will take me much time to guess what my parcel contains.”
Annette sat soberly down and brought forth from many wrappings a beautiful doll, with red cheeks and blue eyes, dressed like a court lady, and newly come from France, as her father explained.
“She is most too beautiful to love,” exclaimed the little girl, as she gently held the gay lady; and the father and mother could only smile at the serious face of the child as she regarded the doll she had so fondly desired.
“Now look at your gift, dear wife. I hope it will please you as much as Annette’s pleases her”; and Monsieur Valvier put into his wife’s hands the second packet. With almost as much excitement as Annette, her mother unrolled her gift, and exclaimed with pleasure at the length of shining silk which greeted her delighted eyes.