“Here is my doll’s house,” said Fanny, as she led Norman into her neat bed-chamber; “see, it has a drawing-room, with sofas and chairs and looking-glasses, and a dining-room, with a long table and plates and dishes and knives and forks on it; and this is the kitchen, with its stove and pots and pans; and here is the bedroom, where little Nancy sleeps. She is a dear good child, and never cries, but as I have had her for a long time, she is not as pretty as she used to be. I tell granny that she was a poor neglected little orphan, and that she came begging at the door one day, and as she had no one to look after her, I took her in, and that is the reason she has so many knocks and bruises.”
Fanny, as she spoke, drew out a small doll, dressed in a cotton frock, from the doll’s house, and held it up to Norman.
“It does look just like a wretched beggar child,” he observed; “I wonder you can care for such a thing. If I were you I should throw it out of the window, and tell papa he must get another much prettier, dressed like a fine lady, who would be fit to walk out with you, and you need not be ashamed of, as I should think you must be of Nancy, as you call her.”
“Oh, but I love Nancy very much,” said Fanny; “she and I have known each other very many years, and I would not throw her away on any account. If I ever get a finer doll, I can let Nancy attend on her, I am sure she will be very glad to do that, for she is not a bit proud, and wishes, I am sure, to be a good girl and please everybody.”
“You may think more of her than I do,” remarked Norman, “and now, as I am not a baby, and do not care about dolls, won’t you show me some of the other things you talk of?”
“Oh yes!” said Fanny, “I will take you to my poultry-yard, but I must carry Nancy with me as she has not been out all day, and she will like to see me feed my hens. They are all very fond of me, and I hope they will learn to know you, Norman, too, and come when you call them, and eat out of your hand, as they do out of mine, especially Thisbe, who is the tamest of all, and the fondest of me.”
“I do not know that I care about cocks and hens and those sort of creatures, but I will go with you,” answered Norman, tucking his whip under his arm and accompanying Fanny.
“O Miss Fanny,” said Susan, whom they met on the way with a china vase in her hand, “your grandmamma says that your papa is fond of flowers, and that we ought to have put some on the mantelpiece of his dressing-room. Will you come and help me to pick them, and will you arrange them, as you can do so beautifully?”
Fanny gladly undertook to do as Susan asked her, and told Norman that after she had picked the flowers she would take him into the poultry-yard. Putting down her doll with her back against a clump of box, she, with a smile at her own conceit, begged him while she was engaged to try and amuse Nancy by telling her something about India or his voyage home. “Stuff!” he replied in a grumpy tone, and turned away, while his sister began to pick the flowers. One side of the yard, composed of trellis work, it should be said, was close to the garden, so that the fowls running about within could easily be seen through the bars. A door, also of trellis work, opened from the garden into the yard.
Norman though he did not care much about seeing the poultry, felt vexed and angry that Susan should venture to draw off his sister’s attention from himself, and stood with his finger in his mouth watching them as they were engaged in picking the flowers.