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Sweet Little Maid, A

<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>Dolls</h3> Florence and Dimple were on the back porch where it was always cool in the morning. Bubbles was cleaning knives on the steps, the temptation to watch the dressing of the dolls being too great to keep her in the kitchen. "I declare," said Dimple, "we haven't named them yet." "That is so," returned Florence. "You take first choice, then," said Dimple. "I shall have to think, for I've had a Rose and a Violet and a Lily, besides one named Victoria, and one Aurelia." Florence sat still watching Bubbles briskly scouring her knives. "Dear me," she said, presently, "it's awfully hard. How do you suppose our mothers found names for us?" "Oh! that was easy enough," answered Dimple. "I was named Eleanor after your mamma, and you were named Florence after mine; but, you see we are not sisters, so we can't do that. I'll tell you what let's do; you tell mamma the names you like best, and I will tell her those I like; then she can write them down and put them in a hat, and we will draw lots for them." "That will be a good plan," said Florence. "She is coming now with the reserve bag." "Oh! Oh! Oh!" they cried, as Mrs. Dallas shook out its contents. "Let Florence choose first, dear," said she as Dimple began making dives at the fluttering ends of silk. "You may each have two pieces." Dimple looked a little disappointed; being an only child she was used to first choice herself, but she yielded with a very good grace. Florence finally chose a piece of maroon satin, and another of yellow brocaded velvet, while Dimple picked out a piece of silk with velvet stripes of a lovely pink, and another bit of blue silk brocade. "Mamma," whispered she, "give Bubbles a little piece, if she is black," and so the brightest bit of scarlet was picked out for Bubbles, who was made perfectly happy by it. "Now, names," exclaimed Dimple, as the rest of the pieces were returned to the bag. "First Florence one and then I one. How many, Florence?" "Four, I think. Ethel first, for me. No, you choose first, Dimple. I had first choice in the pieces." "No, you're company." Being company, Florence took her rights, and Ethel went down. "Blanche, for me, mamma," said Dimple. "And Celestine for me, auntie." "Irene," said Dimple. "Geraldine," said Florence. "Adele," said Dimple. "My last," said Florence. "Rubina." "Oh, what a lovely name!" exclaimed Dimple. "If you don't draw it, I should like it, so I won't say any more till you have drawn." The slips were shaken up in a hat, and Florence, with eyes shut, drew out Celestine. "I am glad," she said. "I believe I like that best; it has a sort of a heavenly sound, and my doll is angelic." "Well, mamma, I will take Rubina. You don't care, do you, Florence?" "No, indeed. I am glad you like it." "Now they are named, we will dress them." "How are you going to dress yours, Dimple?" "I think I'll have a skirt of the blue and a waist of the pink. No, the other way, will look best, because the velvet is thickest, the skirt of pink and the waist of blue." "Well, I will have to make my doll's frock of all the same, with velvet trimming. Will that look well?" "Lovely! What are you going to do with your piece, Bubbles?" "Make a overskirt for Floridy Alabamy," said Bubbles, importantly. "Who?" said Dimple, with her scissors ready to cut into the pink. "Floridy Alabamy," said Bubbles, gravely. "What a name!" shrieked Dimple, throwing back her head in a fit of laughter. "Florence, did you hear? Floridy Alabamy." And the girls laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks. "Bubbles, you are too ridiculous," said Dimple, while Bubbles pinned her bit of scarlet on her doll. Just then Sylvy called her, and she ran off, holding her doll admiringly at arm's length. "She will dress it just like a darkey. You see," said Dimple, "she has a purple dress on it now; think of that, with a scarlet overskirt; and I know she will make it a blue waist out of one of my old sash ribbons I gave her." And sure enough, Floridy Alabamy did wear the three colors in triumph. "Do you like big or little dolls best?" asked Florence. "I don't know," said Dimple. "I think rather big or real little. Middle sizes are so hard to dress. They have to have such little fidgety sleeves and waists. I have two little dolls upstairs, and we can dress them up next. I believe one of them has an arm off, but it can be mended. How many dolls have you?" "Four, now," answered Florence. "I had five, but Gertrude broke one. Gertrude is such a mischief, I have to keep all my things locked up. I hope to goodness they won't let her get at them while I'm away." "Oh, you must make a traveling dress for your Celestine. I have a piece of grey linen that will just do." By the time the dinner bell rang, both the dolls were dressed gorgeously. "Aren't they lovely, papa?" said Dimple, as she hobbled out to meet him. "Yes; they look like two butterflies," he said, lifting her up, doll and all. "Are you having a good time, Florence? I hope Dimple hasn't pinched or scratched you yet." "Why, papa," said Dimple, looking very much hurt. "Florence will think I am a regular little cat," but seeing a twinkle in his eyes, she knew he was only in fun, and was consoled by the kiss he gave her as he put her in her chair at the table. There was a long afternoon before them, and, although Dimple could not walk very well with her bandaged foot, she managed to get down to her favorite place, under a big tree, where the grass was long and thick. "Now we can play beautifully with our dolls, Florence," she said, "and have no one to disturb us, for Bubbles doesn't count. She has to be in the kitchen for a while anyhow." They had not been out very long before Bubbles came running to them. "There is a lady and a boy in the house, Miss Dimple," she said, "and your mamma's a bringin' the boy out hyah." "A boy!" said both the girls in horror. "Think of it, Florence, a horrid boy! What will we do with him? I can't run, and boys despise dolls. As for talking, I never could talk to boys. They shut me up like a clam. I always feel as if they wanted to get away, and I believe they would if they could," said Dimple in a disgusted tone. But, by this time, Mrs. Dallas had come up to them. "This is Rock Hardy, girls," said she. "As Dimple is a little lame, I brought him out here, rather than take her in the house," and so saying, she left them. There was a deep silence after they had shaken hands; all looking rather bashful for a few minutes. Finally Rock took courage to say, "What pretty dolls." This was encouraging; Florence and Dimple exchanged pleased glances. "Do you think they are pretty?" asked Dimple. "I thought boys hated dolls." "I don't," said Rock. "I played with them myself for a long time, and I have one now, but I don't play with it because I like to read better." "He is a nice boy," thought the girls. "How funny," said Florence. "How came you to play with dolls?" "Why, you see, I haven't any brothers and sisters. When I was a little fellow I used to get so lonely, that my mother dressed a boy doll for me, and I talked to it and pretended it was another boy." "I haven't any brothers, or sisters either," said Dimple, "but Florence has. I have Bubbles, though. Everybody can't have a Bubbles; she is next best to a sister, or a cousin." "Who is Bubbles?" asked Rock. "She is the little colored girl you saw when you came out of the house; she has lived here ever since I was a baby; she is a year older than I am; her mother ran off and left her, and she is real nice to play with." Dimple was fast getting over her embarrassment. "Don't you go to school?" asked Rock. "No, mamma has always taught me at home, but I am going next year. It is vacation now." "Yes, I know," said Rock, "that is why we came here. We are going to stay for some time. I like to play with girls. Will you let me come and play with you sometimes?" "Yes, indeed," said Dimple, in her warm-hearted way. "My foot is nearly well, and I can soon run about. I think I should like to play with a nice boy." "I hope I'm a nice boy," said Rock, "but I don't know. I suppose everybody is mean sometimes." "I think you look nice," said Dimple, honestly, looking at him from head to foot. "Why don't you say something, Florence?" Florence thus appealed to, could say nothing. "Florence is my cousin," said Dimple. "She lives in Baltimore and she came here yesterday." "Why, I live in Baltimore," said Rock. "What street do you live on, Florence?" Florence told him, and they found it was in the next street to that on which Rock lived, so they all began to feel like old friends. "If I had my scroll saw here, I could make you each a chair for your dolls," said Rock. "Maybe my mother will let me send for it. I will ask her." "Oh, that would be lovely," said the girls. "And I will lend you some of my books to read," said Dimple. "If you will please hand me that little cane, we will go in and you can choose them." "Oh, thank you," said Rock. "I shall like to have them, for I like to read better than to do anything else." They all went in and found Rock's mother and Mrs. Dallas in the parlor. Dimple told her mamma what they had come for, and her mamma suggested her taking Rock into the library first, as he might find something there that he liked. So Rock was taken to the bookcase, and found there a book of travels he had been wanting to read, so he bade them good-bye, with it under his arm, promising soon to come again. Then Dimple and Florence returned to the garden where they had left a colony of grasshoppers imprisoned in a small house built for them out of bits of wood and bark. "Baby Grasshopper has gone," said Florence, in dismay, as she peeped in to see the prisoners. "I knew he would get out; he was so little," returned Dimple. "Let's set them all free, Florence. We'll pretend that they escaped in the night, or that peace has been declared." "Or that a tornado blew down their prison." "Yes, that will be the best. We'll blow real hard, and maybe it will come down." So, with cheeks much puffed out they blew and blew, but without avail, and finally they picked up their hats and fanned the little bark structure so vigorously that it toppled over, and the grasshoppers escaped in every direction, the children laughing to see how quickly they disappeared. They sat there in the grass wondering what to do next when Dimple exclaimed, "There comes papa with Mr. Coulter,—he's the carpenter, you know—I wonder what he is going to do. See, Mr. Coulter is measuring the ground, and papa is explaining something. I can tell by the way he keeps doing so, with his hand. He always does that when he is explaining. Help me up, Florence, and let's go over there and see what's going on. Papa must mean to have something built. I hope it isn't a fence. No, it can't be that, for it would be too near the other one. Isn't it funny to watch men talking? They do so many funny things. Mr. Coulter keeps nodding his head like a horse." Florence laughed and they made their way over to where the two men stood. As soon as they were within speaking distance, Dimple began to put her questions. "Are you going to build something, papa? What is it? Please don't say it's a fence, or a—a pig-sty." Mr. Coulter chuckled as he went on laying his foot-rule along the ground. "I hope it won't turn into a pig-sty," Mr. Dallas replied, with a smile. "It won't unless little pigs get into it." "Are you going to keep little pigs?" Dimple asked. "I didn't say so." "Oh, papa, you are so mystiferious. I wish you would tell us all about it. What are you going to build? Any sort of house?" "Yes, one sort of house." "What is it to be for?" "Little chicks." "Ah!" Dimple was quite satisfied. "I see. You need a new hen house. Isn't the old one big enough? To be sure we don't get very many eggs just now, for so many of the hens are sitting. Oh, I know, maybe you are going to build a place like Mr. Lind's, with a—what is that thing? A inkybator. Are you going to have one of those? and a brooder? Are you, papa?" "I haven't decided exactly what is to be in it, just yet. I think we'll let mamma see to that—she knows best what is needed. You shall know all about it in good time. But, Dimple, I don't want you to worry Mr. Coulter with questions, and I want you two little girls to keep away from the building while the work is going on." "Yes, uncle." Florence gave her promise promptly. "Yes—papa—but—" Dimple was disappointed. She dearly liked to watch the workmen when they came on the place, and she felt this was a deprivation which seemed unnecessary. "Why, papa, can't we look at the workmen? We won't ask questions and bother them," she said. "I think it is best that you shouldn't this time. Can't you trust papa? When the proper time comes I'll show you the whole thing, and explain it all. Meantime I want you to be an obedient little girl, and keep out of the way." Dimple looked up wistfully. "Won't you please your father by minding what he says?" continued Mr. Dallas. "Yes, papa," replied Dimple, faintly, "I will be sure to mind, only I wish you could let me see the house going up. It is such fun to climb about over the boards and things." "I know it is, and I know I'm requiring a great deal of you, but I think in the end you will see why," returned her father. "Have we many little chicks to go in it. I mean will there be a great many?" Mr. Dallas and Mr. Coulter glanced at each other and smiled; then Mr. Dallas said, "It might be a good plan to go to the barn and see how old Speckle is getting on. Her time is about up, so perhaps we'll find some little chicks. I'll carry you there on my back." "And maybe we'll find some eggs," spoke up Florence, who dearly liked to hunt eggs. "We found two yesterday. Indeed, uncle, I think you do need more hens, for auntie said yesterday that she didn't get all the eggs she wanted." They found old Speckle ready to be quite flustered when they took her off the nest, for they found that four little chicks were already hatched, and the shells of several other eggs were chipped. Mr. Dallas gave the children each two of the little chicks to carry up to the house, that they might be kept safely till Speckle came off with the rest of the brood, and Bubbles, who had followed them, trotted along behind with her hands full of the eggs they were fortunate enough to find. The new building was begun at once, and Dimple found it hard to keep away from it, but she resolutely stuck to her promise. One day, to be sure, she did not venture nearer than usual, but suddenly she exclaimed in a loud voice, "Get thee hence, satan!" and turning ran directly into Bubbles who, as usual, had followed her. "What dat yuh call me, Miss Dimple," exclaimed Bubbles, in an aggrieved tone. "You! Oh, I wasn't talking to you." This seemed rather a lame excuse to Bubbles, since no one else was near. "Yass 'm, yuh is call me sumpin'," she insisted. "Dey ain't nobody else." "There was somebody else," Dimple replied, with dignity. "And don't you contradict me. I reckon I know what I'm talking about better than you do." This puzzled Bubbles, but it also silenced her, although she looked furtively around to see where Dimple's hidden acquaintance might be; that somebody else to whom she spoke so defiantly. "Hit's dat no 'count little niggah Jim, I'll be bound," she muttered, under her breath. "He done shy a stone at the de birds and dat mek Miss Dimple mad. She don't 'low nobody 'buse de birds." Thus settling the matter, she cheerfully smiled when Dimple gave her a glance, and Dimple laughed. Then she stood still. "Bubbles," she said, "papa never said you mustn't go near that house, did he?" "No 'm." "Well, just go peep in and tell me what it looks like. From the looks of the outside, I should say that it is nearly done. You peep in at the window." Bubbles obeyed, and came back with the information. "Hit's got a flo' an' a stove." "Ah!" Dimple pondered. "Oh yes, that's to keep the baby chicks warm, I suppose. I wish I could see for myself. Is that all, Bubbles?" "Yass 'm." "I wish I hadn't told you to peep in," Dimple remarked, after a pause. "I don't believe it was quite honest for me to do it, and I'll have to be uncomfortable till I tell mamma or papa. You oughtn't to have peeped, Bubbles." "Yuh tole me to." "So I did, but—well, you shouldn't have done it, just the same." Bubbles rolled her eyes reproachfully, and began to mutter. "There, never mind. It wasn't your fault," Dimple confessed, hastily. But although Bubbles' countenance cleared, Dimple herself did not feel at ease till she had told her mother, which she did that night at bedtime. "It was not right," her mother told her, "and was a bad example to Bubbles. That is where the trouble often comes in. Not so much in the actual wrong we do, but its effect upon others." "I do want to see, so very much. Papa never made it so hard for me before." "I know it, dear. I have realized very clearly all along how hard it must be for you, but I think when you do know you will be so pleased that you will forget this part of it. I am glad my little girlie was brave enough to tell of her asking Bubbles to peep." And kissing her good-night, Mrs. Dallas left her little girl feeling comforted. <hr class="major" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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