Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 33 of 203 (16%)
page 33 of 203 (16%)
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future."
At noon Julia snatched a few moments from the short interval allowed her to get her lunch, and hurried up to the toy-mender's quarters. She prevailed upon him to have the doll repaired in the course of an hour or two; he promised to do so, and it was sent back to her early in the afternoon. That day Katy's duties, fortunately for her peace of mind, brought her frequently into the vicinity of the doll counter. Now she hastened to it, in a quiver of excitement, to witness the success of the process. When the cover was taken off the box, her cheeks crimsoned with indignation and her eyes blazed, as she turned inquiringly to Julia. "Indeed, Katy, it is none of my doings," protested the salesgirl; though the result of the experiment was so funny she had not the heart to laugh. The doll with the beautiful blue buckles on her shoes had now a mop of darky wool, and a face as black as the ace of spades. Julia's quick wit at once jumped at the correct conclusion regarding the apparent blunder. The toy-mender's two thoughtless apprentices had played a joke upon the little cashgirl. "It is only the nonsense of those rogues upstairs. I'll take the doll back and tell them they must fix it to-night, or I'll complain of them for their fooling at this busy time," she announced, energetically; for she noted the twitching around the corners of Katy's mouth, notwithstanding the child's brave effort at self-control. Katy went off partially comforted. |
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