mischief or fickle neglect. My friends, the prisoner is at the bar.'

"'I am not,' I said; for I was determined not to give in as long as
resistance was possible. But as I said it I became aware, to my
unutterable amazement, that I was inside the go-cart. How I got there
is to this moment a mystery to me--but there I was.

"There was a great deal of excitement about the Jack-in-a-box's speech.
It was evident that he was considered an orator, and, indeed, I have
seen counsel in a real court look wonderfully like him. Meanwhile, my
old toys appeared to be getting together. I had no idea that I had had
so many. I had really been very fond of most of them, and my heart beat
as the sight of them recalled scenes long forgotten, and took me back
to childhood and home. There were my little gardening tools, and my
slate, and there was the big doll's bedstead, that had a real mattress,
and real sheets and blankets, all marked with the letter D, and a
work-basket made in the blind school, and a shilling School of Art
paint-box, and a wooden doll we used to call the Dowager, and
innumerable other toys which I had forgotten till the sight of them
recalled them to my memory, but which have again passed from my mind.
Exactly opposite to me stood the Chinese mandarin, nodding as I had
never seen him nod since the day when I finally stopped his
performances by ill-directed efforts to discover how he did it.

"And what was that familiar figure among the rest, in a yellow silk
dress and maroon velvet cloak and hood trimmed with black lace? How
those clothes recalled the friends who gave them to me! And surely this
was no other than my dear doll Rosa--the beloved companion of five
years of my youth, whose hair I wore in a locket after I was grown up.
No one could say I had ill-treated _her_. Indeed, she fixed her