was anything of the same kind; in proof of which she was at liberty to
keep back her paint-box. Dot tried hard to penetrate the secret, and to
reserve some of her things from the general conscription. But Sam was
obstinate. He would tell nothing, and he wanted everything. The dolls,
the bricks (especially the bricks), the tea-things, the German farm,
the Swiss cottages, the animals, and all the dolls' furniture. Dot gave
them with a doubtful mind, and consoled herself as she watched Sam
carrying pieces of board and a green table cover into the back nursery,
with the prospect of the show. At last, Sam threw open the door and
ushered her into the nursery rocking-chair.

The boy had certainly some constructive as well as destructive talent.
Upon a sort of impromptu table covered with green cloth he had arranged
all the toys in rough imitation of a town, with its streets and
buildings. The relative proportion of the parts was certainly not good;
but it was not Sam's fault that the doll's house and the German farm,
his own brick buildings, and the Swiss cottages, were all on totally
different scales of size. He had ingeniously put the larger things in
the foreground, keeping the small farm-buildings from the German box at
the far end of the streets, yet after all the perspective was extreme.
The effect of three large horses from the toy stables in front, with
the cows from the small Noah's Ark in the distance, was admirable; but
the big dolls seated in an unroofed building, made with the wooden
bricks on no architectural principle but that of a pound, and taking
tea out of the new china tea-things, looked simply ridiculous.

Dot's eyes, however, saw no defects, and she clapped vehemently.

"Here, ladies and gentlemen," said Sam, waving his hand politely
towards the rocking-chair, "you see the great city of Lisbon, the