As my head was of solid wood and heavy, I fell head foremost; but, most fortunate to relate, the gentleman who was just underneath was holding up his hat, which was a new one, in order to prevent it being crushed by the crowd, and I fell straight into it,—with such a thump, however, that I half knocked out the crown, and my head poked through a great crack on one side.
I was brought up to the box again by somebody—I had not sufficiently recovered to know anything more, except that my little lady mamma was still asleep, and now lay upon a small sofa at the back of the box, covered over with a large French shawl. This, I think I may say, is having had a narrow escape!
CHAPTER IX
DOLL’S LETTERS
I had the next day a great joy. It was the arrival of a letter from my dear Ellen Plummy, which her brother Thomas had brought and given to one of the housemaids, saying it was a ‘Doll’s letter.’ The housemaid had given it to a page, and the page had given it to the tall footman, and he—after some consideration—had taken it to the governess, who, having opened it, and read it, and shown it to Lady Flowerdale, had asked my little lady mamma if she would allow me to receive a letter, as one had been sent for me by the little girl from whom she had received me. Lady Flora was at first going to say ‘No,’ but suddenly she recollected the sad face of poor Ellen when she placed me in her hands, and then she said ‘Oh, yes!—I should so like to read it.’ This was the letter. It was addressed on the outside to ‘Maria Poppet.’
‘My dearest Maria:
‘I have never forgotten you, though I have got another doll; and often when I love this other doll, I am thinking of it as if you were this. I have also had a cradle sent me by the kind great lady and little lady both, and some things for the bedding, and a necklace of beads for myself, besides a small painted work-box. We get up at six o’clock to work as usual, and go to bed at nine, after bread and butter. I am so glad to think you are happy and comfortable, and that you have no hard needlework to do, and the little lady is fond of you. Don’t you remember the Twelfth-cake my brother Tommy gave for you, and how he laughed all the way we ran home at something that had happened in the doll-shop about Bonaparte and Abernethy biscuits? I often think of you. I never forget you, nor all who have been good to me, and whom I love, and I hope we may some day meet again; and I also hope that your happy life among all the riches of the world will not make you quite forget your poor first mamma.
‘Your affectionate,
‘Ellen Plummy.’
The little Lady Flora and the governess were rather amused with this letter of my poor dear Ellen’s, but Lady Flowerdale was very much pleased with it, and said that, however simple or foolish it might seem, it showed a good and affectionate nature in the little girl who had sent it; and she was of opinion that the doll should write an answer.
This idea of my writing an answer greatly delighted Lady Flora, and she and her governess sat a whole morning thinking what to say, and writing upon a slate, and then rubbing it out because it would not do. At the same time the governess was obliged to put a pen very often into my hand, and teach me to write, and she often seemed so vexed and tired; but Lady Flora would never let her rest, so that I really had in this manner an excellent lesson in writing.