I
The Surprise Book That Dotty Made
The Surprise Book was Marjorie’s, but it really belonged to Dotty also, Marjorie said. It was Dotty who had made it once upon a time when she had not been able to go to school because of a snowstorm and a snuffy cold. The combination of cold and snowstorm was more or less a lucky mixture, so Marjorie argued. At any rate, if it had not been for these, maybe there never would have been Marjorie’s Surprise Book. You shall hear about it.
It began just after Marjorie, wrapped in storm-coat and arctics, had left for school. Dotty was sitting upon a carpet hassock by the fireside. The fire snapped and crackled pleasantly but Dotty frowned. “I wanted to go to school with Marjorie, too,” she said for about the forty-eleventh time since nine o’clock. “There isn’t anything to do!”
“Nothing to do!” exclaimed Mother. “Why not make a Surprise Book, Dot?”
“How?” inquired Dotty, turning around to face Mother in sudden interest. “How?”
“Oh, it’s quite simple,” Mother returned. “You will find it ever so much fun. I used to make Surprise Books when I was a little girl. They’re made in scrapbooks. You know how to make a scrapbook, Dot, don’t you?”
Dotty nodded. “I just take some brown wrapping-paper an’ fold it ever so many times an’ then I cut the folds into leaves. When I have ever so many leaves, I cut a cover for ’em an’ I tie the cover to the leaves with a ribbon. It goes through the centre of the book an’ ties at the back like a sash.”