not even a
doll." Then at a sudden thought her eyes sparkled. "Sarah," she said,
"I'll make her a doll. And it shall be a darling. You remember the baby
dolls I used to make for church bazaars?"

"What beauties they were!" said her sister. "Like real babies, instead
of just-alike dolls that come wholesale out of shops. I remember one I
bought to send out West in a missionary box. You had given it the
dearest crooked little smile. I wanted to keep it and cuddle it myself.
But, Emily dear, it is too great an undertaking for you to make a doll
now. You'll overtax your strength. And, besides, you've no materials.
We'll buy a doll in Paris for this little girl."

"Paris! With all these lonesome days between!" objected Mrs. Patterson.
"Indeed, it will not hurt me, Sarah. Why, I feel better already. And
you'll help me. If you'll get out your work-basket, I'll rummage in this
trunk for what I need."

A muslin skirt was selected as material for the doll's body and her
underwear, and a dainty dressing-sacque was chosen to make her frock.
Mrs. Patterson pencilled an outline on the cloth, then rubbed out,
redrew, changed, and corrected the lines, with painstaking care. At
last she threw back her head and looked at her work through narrowed
eyelids.

"She is going to be a very satisfactory baby," she announced; "just
plump enough to cuddle comfortably."

"Surely you will stop now, dear, and finish another time," urged Miss
Drayton, after the pieces were cut out and sewed together with firm,
short, even stitches. "You may not feel it, but I am sure you are
tired--and how tired you will be when you _do_ feel it!"

"Indeed, no, Sarah," said Mrs. Patterson. "This rests me. I've not
thought about myself for an hour. Why did you mention the tiresome
subject? That skirt must have another tuck, please. And it needs lace at
the bottom. Just borrow some, dear, from any of my white things. Now I
must have some sawdust."

The stewardess came to their help, and persuaded a steward to open a
case of bottles and give her the sawdust in which they were packed.
Mrs. Patterson received it with an exclamation of delight and held out a
silver coin in return. But Vaughan put her hands behind her.

"Please'm," she said, "it ain't much. But I wanted to do something for
that poor little orphant."

Mrs. Patterson smiled her thanks, then she pushed and shook and crammed
the sawdust in place, taking a childlike eager interest in seeing the
limp fo