on her dolls joining our studies. It used to be a little embarrassing
to me at first to see myself surrounded by the vacant waxen faces
staring at us, with every variety of smirk and bland fatuous
expression: the flaxen heads nid-nodded over open lesson-books,
propped up in limp, leathery arms. When Flossy grew impatient for a
game of play, he would drag two or three of them down with a vicious
snap and a stroke of his feathery paws. Flurry would shake her head
at him disapprovingly, as she picked them up and shook out their
smart frocks. The best behaved of the dolls always accompanied us in
our walk before luncheon.

I used to think of Carrie's words, sometimes, as I played with
Flurry in the afternoon; she would not hear of lessons then.
Sometimes I would coax her to sew a little, or draw; and she always
had her half hour at the piano, but during the rest of the afternoon
I am afraid there was nothing but play.

How I wish Dot could have joined us sometimes as we built our famous
brick castles, or worked in Flurry's little garden, where she grew
all sorts of wonderful things. When I was tired or lazy I used to
bring out my needle-work to the seat under the cedar, and tell Flurry
stories, or talk to her as she dressed her dolls; she was very good
and tractable, and never teased me to play when I was disinclined.

I told her about Dot very soon, and she gave me no peace after that
until I took her to see him; there was quite a childish friendship
between them soon. Flurry used to send him little gifts, which she
purchased with her pocket-money--pictures, and knives, and pencils. I
often begged Miss Lucas to put a stop to it, but she only laughed and
praised Flurry, and put by choice little portions of fruit and other