The Doll and Her Friends | Page 3

or we hers. Her habits varied so little from day to day, that after watching her for a reasonable time, I felt myself perfectly acquainted with her, and in a condition to make observations upon others of her race.
One day a lady and a little girl stopped at our stall.
'Oh, what a splendid doll,' exclaimed the child, pointing to the waxen beauty which outshone the rest of our tribe. It was the first time I had heard the word Doll, though I was well acquainted with the illustrious individual to whom it was applied; and it now flashed upon my mind, with pride and pleasure, that, however insignificant in comparison, I too was a doll. But I had not time to think very deeply about my name and nature just then, as I wished to listen to the conversation of the two human beings.
'May I buy her?' said the little girl.
'Can you afford it?' asked the lady in return. 'Remember your intentions for your brother.'
'Perhaps I have money enough for both,' answered the child. 'How much does she cost?'
'Seven shillings,' said the shopwoman, taking the doll from her place, and displaying her pretty face and hands to the utmost advantage.
'I have three half-crowns,' said the little girl.
'But if you spend seven shillings on the doll,' answered the lady, 'you will only have sixpence left for the paint-box.'
'What does a paint-box cost?' asked the child.
'We have them of all prices,' replied the shopkeeper; 'from sixpence to seven shillings.'
The little girl examined several with great care, and stood some time in deliberation; at last she said, 'I don't think Willy would like a sixpenny one.'
'It would be of no use to him,' answered the lady. 'He draws well enough to want better colors. If you gave it to him, he would thank you and try to seem pleased, but he would not really care for it. However, he does not know that you thought of making him a birthday present, so you are at liberty to spend your money as you like.'
'Would he care for a seven shilling one?' asked the little girl.
'Yes; that is exactly what he wants.'
'Then he shall have it,' exclaimed the good-natured little sister. 'Poor dear Willy, how many more amusements I have than he!'
She bought the best paint-box, and received sixpence in change.
'Is there any thing else I can show you?' asked the shopkeeper.
'No, thank you,' she replied; and turning to the elder lady, she said, 'May we go home at once, Mama? It would take me a long time to choose what I shall spend my sixpence in, and I should like to give Willy his paint-box directly.'
'By all means,' answered the lady; 'we will lose no time; and I will bring you again to spend the sixpence whenever you please.'
Without one backward glance towards the beautiful doll, the child tripped away by the side of her companion, looking the brightest and happiest of her kind.
I pondered long upon this circumstance; how long I cannot say, for dolls are unable to measure time, they can only date from any particularly striking epochs. For instance, we can say, 'Such an affair happened before I lost my leg;' or, 'Such an event took place before my new wig was put on;' but of the intricate divisions known to mortals by the names of hours, days, months, &c., we have no idea.
However, I meditated on the kind little sister during what appeared to me a long but not tedious period, for I was gratified at gaining some insight into the qualities proper to distinguish the human race. Readiness to show kindness, and a preference of others' interests to her own, were virtues which I easily perceived in the little girl's conduct; but one thing perplexed me sadly. I could not understand why a doll would not have answered her kind intentions as well as a paint-box; why could she not have bought the doll which she admired so much, and have given that to her brother.
My thoughts were still engaged with this subject, when a boy approached the stall. Boys were new characters to me, and I was glad of the opportunity to observe one. He did not bestow a look on the dolls and other toys, but asked for a box of carpenter's tools. The shopkeeper dived into some hidden recess under the counter, and produced a clumsy-looking chest, the merits of which I could not discover; but the boy pronounced it to be 'just the thing,' and willingly paid down its price. I followed him with my eyes as he walked about with his great box under his arm, looking from side to side, till he caught sight of another boy rather younger than himself, advancing from an opposite corner.
'Why, Geoffrey,' exclaimed my first friend, 'where have