"It's a hearth-brush dressed up," whispered Betty, "and it's
dressed up in my dolly's cape, at least in one of my dolly's
capes; she loves it. Aunt Woggles, do you think it is a good
thing to make hearth-brushes say their prayers? Sara does."

I followed Sara disconsolately to the nursery and was shown the
beauties of the "lubbly blush."

Nannie bemoaned her darling's taste, and the nursery-maid blushed
for very shame.

"Not but what it's quite clean, miss," Nannie said; "it's been
thoroughly washed in carbolic."

Meanwhile Sara was rocking herself backward and forward in a
manner truly maternal and singing her version of "Jesus Tender" to
her "lubbly blush."

"I thought she would love the rabbit," I said, and Nannie, by way
of consolation, assured me that there was really nothing Sara
loved so much as a rabbit. I suppose Nannie knew, and that it was
only another instance of the folly of judging from appearances.

"You will love your bunny, won't you, darling?" said Nannie; "nice
bunny! "

"Nasty bunny," said Sara with great decision.

"That's naughty, baby," said Nannie; "nice bunny!"