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Page 21
CHAPTER 1
A MYSTERIOUS DOG.
The elm-tree avenue was all overgrown, the great gate was never
unlocked, and the old house had been shut up for several years. Yet
voices were heard about the place, the lilacs nodded over the high wall
as if they said, "We could tell fine secrets if we chose," and the
mullein outside the gate made haste to reach the keyhole that it might
peep in and see what was going on.
If it had suddenly grown up like a magic bean-stalk, and looked in on a
certain June day, it would have seen a droll but pleasant sight, for
somebody evidently was going to have a party.
From the gate to the porch went a wide walk, paved with smooth slabs of
dark stone, and bordered with the tall bushes which met overhead,
making a green roof. All sorts of neglected flowers and wild weeds grew
between their stems, covering the walls of this summer parlor with the
prettiest tapestry. A board, propped on two blocks of wood, stood in
the middle of the walk, covered with a little plaid shawl much the
worse for wear, and on it a miniature tea service was set forth with
great elegance. To be sure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the
cream-jug its handle, the sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups and plates
were all more or less cracked or nicked; but polite persons would not
take notice of these trifling deficiencies, and none but polite persons
were invited to this party.
On either side of the porch was a seat, and here a somewhat remarkable
sight would have been revealed to any inquisitive eye peering through
the aforesaid key-hole. Upon the left-hand seat lay seven dolls, upon
the right-hand seat lay six, and so varied were the expressions of
their countenances, owing to fractures, dirt, age and other
afflictions, that one would very naturally have thought this a doll's
hospital, and these the patients waiting for their tea. This, however,
would have been a sad mistake; for, if the wind had lifted the
coverings laid over them, it would have disclosed the fact that all
were in full dress, and merely reposing before the feast should begin.
There was another interesting feature of the scene which would have
puzzled any but those well acquainted with the manners and customs of
dolls. A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung by her neck from
the rusty knocker in the middle of the door. A sprig of white and one
of purple lilac nodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richly
trimmed with red flannel scallops, shrouded her slender form, a garland
of small flowers crowned her glossy curls, and a pair of blue boots
touched toes in the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner. An
emotion of grief, as well as of surprise, might well have thrilled any
youthful breast at such a spectacle, for why, oh! why, was this
resplendent dolly hung up there to be stared at by thirteen of her
kindred? Was she a criminal, the sight of whose execution threw them
flat upon their backs in speechless horror? Or was she an idol, to be
adored in that humble posture? Neither, my friends. She was blonde
Belinda, set, or rather hung, aloft, in the place of honor, for this
was her seventh birthday, and a superb ball was about to celebrate the
great event.
[Illustration: "A RAG-BABY HUNG FROM THE RUSTY KNOCKER."]
All were evidently awaiting a summons to the festive board, but such
was the perfect breeding of these dolls that not a single eye out of
the whole twenty-seven (Dutch Hans had lost one of the black beads from
his worsted countenance) turned for a moment toward the table, or so
much as winked, as they lay in decorous rows, gazing with mute
admiration at Belinda. She, unable to repress the joy and pride which
swelled her sawdust bosom till the seams gaped, gave an occasional
bounce as the wind waved her yellow skirts or made the blue boots dance
a sort of jig upon the door. Hanging was evidently not a painful
operation, for she smiled contentedly, and looked as if the red ribbon
around her neck was not uncomfortably tight; therefore, if slow
suffocation suited _her_, who else had any right to complain? So a
pleasing silence reigned, not even broken by a snore from Dinah, the
top of whose turban alone was visible above the coverlet, or a cry from
baby Jane, though her bare feet stuck out in a way that would have
produced shrieks from a less well-trained infant.
Presently voices were heard approaching, and through the arch which led
to a side path came two little girls, one carrying a small pitcher, the
other proudly bearing a basket covered with a napkin. They looked like
twins, but were not--for Bab was a year older than Betty, though only
an inch taller. Both had on brown calico frocks, much the worse for a
week's wear, but clean pink pinafores, in honor of the occasion, made
up for that, as well as the gray stockings and thick boots. Both had
round rosy faces rather sunburnt, pug noses somewhat freckled, merry
blue eyes, and braided tails of hair hanging down their backs like
those of the dear little Kenwigses.
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