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→Child Life on the Farm
I had no sister; my brother was three and a half years older than I, and our tastes were entirely unlike. Sometimes I was permitted to share some outdoor sport, such as riding downhill, with him, and his boy friends. Otherwise we rarely played together. But I was never a lonely little girl. Somewhere, in the fence corner, under a tree, in pleasant weather I had always a playhouse where my treasures were carefully stowed away: bits of broken china for dishes; corncob dolls, dressed in calico pieces and bits of ribbon, collected and saved with care. These dolls were my scholars, for I dearly loved to play at keeping school. It was such fun to lean them up in a row against my treasure-box, for spelling, and to see the one at the foot march proudly to the head of the class. This was <u>easy</u>, since <u>I</u> did the spelling, and marched them up and down as I chose. Perhaps my little grand-daughters, who have such large families of dollies, would like to hear about my dolls. Well, I remember just two. I think these must have been all my family, and that I cared more for books than for dolls.
We children were not allowed to go into the parlor, except when open for visitors; I really do not see why. It was a simple room; its floor covered with a striped rag carpet. There was a bureau in one corner, and a table, and chairs stood against the walls, I suppose waiting patiently for company. stove made the room cheerful when it was cold. A looking-glass, a framed marriage certificate, and one or two pictures adorned the walls. <br /><br /> Well, one day, perhaps it was a rainy day, I stole into the parlor and looked around. I wondered what mother kept in the bureau, anything but "Sunday clothes"? "I think I'll see;" and I opened a drawer, and putting my fingers down carefully, so as not to "muss up" anything, I was startled by feeling something hard.
Carefully I peeped, then eagerly I seized the object. And, forgetting my disobedience, I ran to my mother: "Oh, mother, see! I've found a doll!" Had she ever seen me so glad before? Did she scold me? Not a word. She laughed and said: "I suppose I should have given it to you before. It was my doll when I was a little girl, and I meant to give it to you when you are old enough to take care of it." "Take care of it? I will <u>love</u> it!" and I thought it perfectly beautiful. Now, I will tell you, in confidence, it was perfectly <u>ugly</u>. You would say <u>horrid</u>. It was a wooden doll, without a movable joint in its body. It had been painted white, but the years had turned the white to a deep yellow. When my enthusiasm had cooled, I began to regard my doll with other emotions than affection, and my consolation was found in pretending that it was <u>dreadfully</u> <u>ill</u> with <u>jaundice</u>.
