re ordinary,
middle-class dolls' houses in which you might find washing-stands and
jugs and basins and real water--ay, and even soap. But in this abode of
luxury there was a real towel; so that a body could not only wash
himself, but wipe himself afterwards, and that is a sensation that, as
all dolls know, can be enjoyed only in the very first-class
establishments.

Then, in the drawing-room, there was a clock, which would tick just so
long as you continued to shake it (it never seemed to get tired); also a
picture and a piano, and a book upon the table, and a vase of flowers
that would upset the moment you touched it, just like a real vase of
flowers. Oh, there was style about this room, I can tell you.

But the glory of the house was its kitchen. There were all things that
heart could desire in this kitchen, saucepans with lids that took on and
off, a flat-iron and a rolling-pin. A dinner service for three occupied
about half the room, and what space was left was filled up by the stove--a
_real_ stove! Think of it, oh ye owners of dolls' houses, a stove in
which you could burn real bits of coal, and on which you could boil real
bits of potato for dinner--except when people said you mustn't, because
it was dangerous, and took the grate away from you, and blew out the
fire, a thing that hampers a cook.

I never saw a house more complete in all its details. Nothing had been
overlooked, not even the family. It lay on its back, just outside the
front door, proud but calm, waiting to be put into possession. It was
not an extensive family. It consisted of four--papa, and mamma, and
baby, and the hired girl; just the family for a beginner.

It was a well-dressed family too--not merely with grand clothes outside,
covering a shameful condition of things beneath, such as, alas! is too
often the case in doll society, but with every article necessary and
proper to a lady or gentleman, down to items that I could not mention.
And all these garments, you must know, could be unfastened and taken off.
I have known dolls--stylish enough dolls, to look at, some of them--who
have been content to go about with their clothes gummed on to them, and,
in some cases, nailed on with tacks, which I take to be a slovenly and
unhealthy habit. But this family could be undressed in five minutes,
without the aid of either hot water or a chisel.

Not that it was advisable from an artistic point of view that any of them
should. They had