of your sight and mind as soon as possible, and then never give it any
more thought than you'd give the rattle you used to shake when you
were a baby, or the rubber ring you cut your teeth on."

Could he be made to understand the immense difference between Helena
and other toys? Could any words explain to him about the soul that had
grown out of Mollie's love into the cloth and sawdust body? Mollie
looked up to catch a sympathetic expression that should help her to
tell him; but she did not find it.

"You don't understand," she said desperately.

"No?" said he.

"Mr. John," said Mollie, not looking him in the eye, "when you have a
doll as long as I have had Helena, it is only natural that she should
seem to you like a live person. If I didn't play with her at all,
she'd seem real to me, and I shouldn't like to have her go away any
more than I would mother."

"Which tells the secret that you have some sort of human fondness
for the lifeless bundle of rags," said Mr. John, "and proves what I
feared, that you are a very weak-minded little girl, Mollie."

"You wont believe in me at all," said Mollie.

"You wont think I am doing my best, and that I ever succeed. You are
not like you used to be."

"That naturally follows _your_ being different," said Mr. John. "Of