Jewel's Story Book Part 35

"Is there anything in 'The Talking Doll' to hurt Anna Belle's feelings?"

"No, I think she'd rather like it," returned Mrs. Evringham.

"You see," whispered Jewel, "she doesn't know she's a doll."

"Of course not," said Mrs. Evringham.

Jewel sat back: "I choose," she said aloud, "I choose 'The Talking Doll.'"

As Anna Belle only maintained her usual amiable look of interest, Mrs.

Evringham proceeded to read aloud as follows:--

When Gladys opened her eyes on her birthday morning, the sun was streaming across her room, all decorated in rose and white. It was the prettiest room any little girl could have, and everything about the child looked so bright, one would have expected her to laugh just for sympathy with the gay morning; but as she sat up in bed she yawned instead and her eyes gazed soberly at the dancing sunbeams.

"Ellen," she called, and a young woman came into the room.

"Oh, you're awake, Miss Gladys. Isn't this a fine birthday Mother Nature's fixed up for you?"

The pleasant maid helped the little girl to bathe and dress, and, as the toilet went on, tried to bring a cheerful look into Gladys's face. "Now what are you hoping your mother has for you?" she asked, at last.

"I don't know," returned the child, very near a pout. "There isn't anything I want. I've been trying to think what I'd like to have, and I can't think of a thing." She said this in an injured tone, as if the whole world were being unkind to her.

Ellen shook her head. "You are a very unlucky child," she returned impressively.

"I am not," retorted Gladys, looking at Ellen in astonishment. The idea that she, whom her father and mother watched from morning until night as their greatest treasure, could be called unlucky! She had never expressed a wish in her life that had not been gratified. "You mustn't say such things to me, Ellen," added the child, vexed that her maid did not look sorry for having made such a blunder.

Ellen had taken care of her ever since she was born, and no one should know better what a happy, petted life she had led; but Ellen only shook her head now; and when Gladys was dressed she went down to the dining-room where her parents were waiting to give her a birthday greeting.

They kissed her lovingly, and then her mother said:--

"Well, what does my little girl want for her gift?"

"What have you for me?" asked Gladys, with only faint interest. She had closets and drawers full of toys and books and games, and she was like a person who has been feasted and feasted, and then is asked to sit down again at a loaded table.

For answer her mother produced from behind a screen a beautiful doll. It was larger and finer than any that Gladys had owned, and its parted, rosy lips showed pearly little teeth within.

Gladys looked at it without moving, but began to smile. Then her mother put her hand about the doll's waist and it suddenly said: "Ma-ma--Pa-pa."

"Oh, if she can talk!" cried Gladys, looking quite radiant for a minute, and running forward she took the doll in her arms.

"Her name is Vera," said the mother, happy at having succeeded in pleasing her child. "Here is something that your grandmother sent you, dear. Isn't it a quaint old thing?" and Gladys's mother showed her a heavy silver bowl with a cover. On the cover was engraved, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

"I don't know where your grandma found such an odd thing nor why she sent it to a little girl; but she says it will be an heirloom for you."

Gladys looked at the bowl and handled it curiously. The cover fitted so well and the silver was so bright she was rather pleased at having, such a grown-up possession.

"It is evidently valuable," said her mother. "I will have it put with our silver."

"No," returned Gladys, and her manner was the willful one of a spoiled child. "I want it in my room. I like it."

"Oh, very well," answered her mother. "Grandma will be glad that you are pleased."

An excursion into the country had been planned for Gladys to-day. She had some cousins there, a girl of her own age and a boy a little older. She had not seen Faith and Ernest for five years. Their father and mother were away on a long visit now, so the children were living in the old farmhouse with an aunt of their father's to take care of them. Gladys's mother thought it would be a pleasant change for her in the June weather, and it was an attractive idea to Gladys to think of giving these country cousins a sight of her dainty self, her fine clothes, and perhaps she would take them one or two old toys that she liked the least; but the coming of Vera put the toy idea completely out of her head. What would Faith say to a doll who could talk!

Gladys was in haste now for the time to come to take the train; and as Vera was well supplied with various costumes, the doll was soon arrayed, like her little mamma, in pretty summer street-dress and ready to start.

Gladys's father had a guest to-day, so his wife remained at home with him, and Ellen took charge of the birthday excursion.

Driving to the station and during the hour's ride on the train, Gladys was in gay spirits, chattering about her new doll and arranging its pretty clothes, and each time Vera uttered her words, the child would laugh, and Ellen laughed with her. Gladys was a girl ten years old, but to the maid she was still a baby, and although Ellen thought she saw the child's parents making mistakes with her every day, she, like them, was so relieved when Gladys was good-natured that she joined heartily in the little girl's pleasure now over her birthday present.

"Won't Faith's eyes open when she sees Vera?" asked Gladys gayly.

"I expect they will," returned Ellen. "What have you brought with you for her and her brother?"

The child shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing. I meant to but I forgot it, because I was so pleased with Vera. Isn't her hair sweet, Ellen?" and Gladys twisted the soft, golden locks around her fingers.

"Yes, but it would have been nice to bring something for those children.

They don't have so much as you do."

"Of course not. I don't believe they have much of anything. You know they're poor. Mother sends them money sometimes, so it's all right." And Gladys poked the point of her finger within Vera's rosy lips and touched her little white teeth.

Ellen shook her head and Gladys saw it and pouted. "Why didn't _you_ think of it, then, or mother?" she asked.

"You won't have somebody to think for you all your life," returned Ellen.

"You'd better be beginning to think about other people yourself, Gladys.

What's that it said on your grandmother's silver bowl?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something about giving and receiving."

"Yes. 'It is more blessed to give than to receive,' that's what it said,"

and Ellen looked hard at her companion, though with a very soft gaze, too; for she loved this little girl because she had spent many a wakeful night and busy day for her.

"Yes, I remember," returned Gladys. "Grandma had that put on because she wanted me to know how much she would rather give me things than have people give things to her. Anyway, Ellen, if you are going to be cross on my birthday I wish mother had come with me, instead;" and a displeased cloud came over the little-girl's face, which Ellen hastened to drive away by changing the subject. She knew her master and mistress would reprove her for annoying their idol. They always said, when their daughter was unusually naughty or selfish, "Oh, Gladys will outgrow all these things. We Won't make much of them."

By the time they reached the country station, Gladys's spirits were quite restored and, carrying her doll, she left the train with Ellen.

Faith and Ernest were there to meet them. No wonder the children did not recognize each other, for they had been so young when last they met; and when Gladys's curious eyes fell upon the country girl, she felt like a princess who comes to honor humble subjects with a visit.

Faith and Ernest had never thought about being humble subjects. Their rich relative who lived in some unknown place and sometimes sent their mother gifts of money and clothing had often roused their grat.i.tude, and when she had written that their cousin Gladys would like to visit the farm on her birthday, they at once set their wits to work to think how they could make her have a good time. They always had a good time themselves, and now that vacation had begun, the days seemed very full of fun and sunshine. They thought it must be hard to live in a city street as their mother had described, it to them, and even though she was away now and could not advise them, they felt as if they could make Gladys enjoy herself.

Faith's hair was shingled as short as her brother's, and her gingham frock was clean and fresh. She watched each person descend from the train, and when a pretty girl with brown eyes and curls appeared, carrying a large doll, Faith's bright gaze grew brighter, and she was delighted to find that it was Gladys. She took it for granted that kind-faced Ellen, so well dressed in black, was her aunt, and greeted her so, but Gladys's brown eyes widened.

"My mother couldn't come, for father needed her," she explained. "This is my maid, Ellen."

"Oh," said Faith, much impressed by such elegance. "We thought aunt Helen was coming. Ernest is holding the horse over here," and she led the way to a two-seated wagon where a twelve-year-old boy in striped shirt and old felt hat was waiting.