"The man said he'd a horrible job to find the place, an' I reckon it's the first time ice-crame an' Charlotte-Russys found their way to Rid Lane!" said Mrs. Keaney, who scarcely knew whether to laugh or cry herself.
"Oh, mother, wasn't it lovely in Mrs. Ray?"
"Troth it was, darlint. It must be Eliza tould her, and—"
"Scarcely were the words out of her mouth, when a loud rap at the door made her start.
"Sakes alive! I hope nobody's come to say the ice-crame wint to the wrong place!" She opened the door; there stood John, Mrs. Ray's colored man.
"Good-evenin', Mrs. Keaney," surveying her with a condescending smile. "Here's a package for Biddy, with Miss Mabel's love. Sorry to be so late, but I had a number of other errands, and it was hard to find the place. Good-evenin'," and before Mrs. Keaney could speak, he was gone, anxious to escape a reproof from his mistress for his delay.
With trembling fingers Mrs. Keaney undid the strings, while the little group looked breathlessly on. But when at last she brought out a doll—a lovely wax doll, with golden hair and large brown eyes—a cry of admiration broke from all but Biddy. She stood speechless, with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, gazing up at the doll.
"Och, darlin', where's your tongue?" cried Mrs. Keaney. "Such a swate doll, dressed up so illegant, an' she can open an' shut her eyes! Look, honey, look! Why, what are you crying for?"
"It's too beautiful!" sobbed little Biddy. "Everythin's so beautiful, I don't know what to do.'"