Almira’s head shook in mournful dissent. “When I took her I knew I had to let her travel with the books,” she said, with wonderful logic.
Wally Jim would not look at her. “You take my advice—kick about it. ’Twon’t do any harm.” He got into his skiff, with head turned from Almira’s drawn face. “But if you’re bound to send her, I’ll be round to-morrow for her and the books.”
“What’s that he said about the books?” called the mother. “Are some more coming?”
“I suppose so. These have to go back.”
“And the doll? O baby!”
“Of course,” answered Almira, shortly. “We’ll wash her clothes to-day, for it says, ‘Returned clean and neat.’”
It was all right while the work went on. Queeny was washed, combed, braided and dressed. Almira touched her as little as possible.
When Queeny was laid in her box, wearing a blue hood knitted by the mother, and tied with the tapes that had held her still on her former journey, Almira thought she looked as if she were in her coffin. Then Almira caught sight of Botsey, as usual on guard outside the door. Before Queeny came Botsey was ever so much sweeter. If she had never seen Queeny! Why could not the little girl in the mountains on crutches have a Botsey? They do all right until you’ve seen the other kind.
Almira’s character was one of quick decision. With a furtive look at her mother, she took Queeny from her nest and removed her hood, dress, shoes, stockings. Then she stripped Botsey of her old skirt and blue shawl, putting Queeny’s clothes on Botsey after a painful fashion, put the blue woolen hood over Botsey’s green glass countenance, and folded Queeny’s freshly starched nightgown on Botsey’s chest. She viewed her work critically, and with an access of turpitude, stuffed empty sleeves and stockings with paper, putting on the slippers so that they stuck quite naturally from beneath the blue frock: and right over the place where Queeny’s face should have looked from the hood, she pinned the paper. Then she tied the tapes, tied them with a vicious screw of her mouth in hard, hard knots, put the lid on the box, and brought all to her mother, saying, in the evenest of tones: