chairs--the toys--the little table and its service to be placed
in certain positions. She told Judith what to do. Various toys
were put here or there--the little table was set with certain
dishes in a particular part of the room. A book was left lying
upon the sofa cushion, the large doll was put into a chair near
the sofa, with a smaller doll in its arms, on the small writing
desk a letter, which Judith found in a drawer--a half-written
letter--was laid, the pen was left in the ink. It was a strange
game to play, but somehow Judith felt it was very pretty. When it
was all done--and there were many curious things to do--the
Closed Room looked quite different from the cold, dim, orderly
place the door had first opened upon. Then it had looked as if
everything had been swept up and set away and covered and done
with forever--as if the life in it had ended and would never
begin again. Now it looked as if some child who had lived in it
and loved and played with each of its belongings, had just
stepped out from her play--to some other room quite near--quite
near. The big doll in its chair seemed waiting--even listening to
her voice as it came from the room she had run into.

The child with the burnished hair stood and looked at it with her
delicious smile.

"That is how it looked," she said. "They came and hid and covered
everything--as if I had gone--as if I was Nowhere. I want her to
know I come here. I couldn't do it myself. You could do it for
me. Go and bring some roses."

The little garden was a wonder of strange beauty with its masses
of flowers. Judith brought some roses from the bush her playmate