carried a very dirty towel, knotted in the center into what is
known as a slip-noose knot, drawn very tight. After some moments
of disgusted contemplation of these rags, without being in the
least able to comprehend their purpose, I asked Budge what those
towels were for.

"They're not towels--they're dollies," promptly answered my
nephew.

"Goodness!" I exclaimed. "I should think your mother could buy you
respectable dolls, and not let you appear in public with those
loathsome rags."

"We don't like buyed dollies," explained Budge. "These dollies is
lovely; mine's name is Mary, an' Toddie's is Marfa."

"Marfa?" I queried.

"Yes; don't you know about

"Marfa and Mary's jus' gone along
To ring dem charmin' bells,

that them Jubilee sings about?"

"Oh, Martha, you mean?"

"Yes, Marfa--that's what I say. Toddie's dolly's got brown eyes,
an' my dolly's got blue eyes."