"I was also thinking," proceeded Barbox, "that if we were to look in at
the toy-shop, to choose a doll--"

"Not dressed!" cried Polly with a clap of her hands. "No, no, NO, not
dressed!"

"Full-dressed. Together with a house, and all things necessary for
housekeeping--"

Polly gave a little scream, and seemed in danger of falling into a swoon
of bliss.

"What a darling you are!" she languidly exclaimed, leaning back in her
chair. "Come and be hugged, or I must come and hug you."

This resplendent programme was carried into execution with the utmost
rigour of the law. It being essential to make the purchase of the doll
its first feature--or that lady would have lost the ponies--the toy-shop
expedition took precedence. Polly in the magic warehouse, with a doll as
large as herself under each arm, and a neat assortment of some twenty
more on view upon the counter, did indeed present a spectacle of
indecision not quite compatible with unalloyed happiness, but the light
cloud passed. The lovely specimen oftenest chosen, oftenest rejected,
and finally abided by, was of Circassian descent, possessing as much
boldness of beauty as was reconcilable with extreme feebleness of mouth,
and combining a sky-blue silk pelisse with rose-coloured satin trousers,
and a black velvet hat: which this fair stranger to our northern shores
would seem to have founded on the portraits of the late Duchess of Kent.
The name this distinguished foreigner brought with her from beneath the
glowing skies of a sunny clime was (on Polly's authority) Miss Melluka,