hardly think she knows there is such a chit as you," Guy said to her
once, when sorely pressed on the subject, and then the child wondered
how that could be, and wished she was big enough to write her a letter
and ask her to come and see her.

Every day after that little Daisy played "make b'lieve Miss McDolly" was
there, said McDolly being represented by a bundle of shawls tied up to
look like a figure and seated in a chair. At last there came to the
cottage a friend of Julia's, a young lady from New York, who knew Daisy,
and who, while visiting in Cuylerville, accidentally learned that she
was the divorced wife of whose existence she knew, but of whom she had
never spoken to Mrs. Thornton. Hearing the little one talking one day to
Miss McDolly and asking her why she never wrote nor sent a "sing" to
her sake-name, the young lady said:

"Why don't you send Miss McDonald a letter? You tell me what to say and
I'll write it down for you, but don't let mamma know till you see if you
get anything."

The little girl's fancy was caught at once with the idea, and the
following letter was the result:

"BROWN COTTAGE, 'Most Tissmas time.

"DEAR MISS MCDOLLY:--I'se an 'ittle dirl named for you, I is,
Daisy Thornton, an' my papa is Mr. Guy, an' mam-ma is Julia, and 'ittle
brother is Guy, too--only he's a baby, and vomits up his dinner and ties
awfully sometimes; an' I knows anoder 'ittle girl named for somebody who
dives her 'sings,' a whole lot, an' why doesn't youse dive me some, when
I'se your sake-name, an' loves you ever so much, and why'se you never
turn here to see me. I wish you would. I ask papa is you pretty, an' he
tell me yes, bootiful, an' every night I p'ays for you and say God bress
papa an' mam-ma, an' auntie, and Miss McDolly, and 'ittle brodder, an'
make Daisy a dood dirl, and have Miss McDolly send her sumptin' for
Tissmas, for Christ's sake. An' I wants a turly headed doll that ties
and suts her eyes when she does to seep, and wears a shash and a
pairesol, and anodder bigger dolly to be her mam-ma and pank her when
she's naughty, an' I wants an 'ittle fat-iron, an' a cookstove, an'
wash-board. I'se dot a tub. An' I wants some dishes an' a stenshun
table, an' 'ittle bedstead, an' yuffled seets, an' pillars, an' blue
silk kilt, an' ever so many sings which papa cannot buy, 'cause he
hasn't dot the money. Vill you send them, Miss McDolly, pese, an' your
likeness, too. I wants to see how you looks. My mam-ma