we do with him? I can't
run, and boys despise dolls. As for talking, I never could talk to boys.
They shut me up like a clam. I always feel as if they wanted to get
away, and I believe they would if they could," said Dimple in a
disgusted tone.

But, by this time, Mrs. Dallas had come up to them.

"This is Rock Hardy, girls," said she. "As Dimple is a little lame, I
brought him out here, rather than take her in the house," and so saying,
she left them. There was a deep silence after they had shaken hands; all
looking rather bashful for a few minutes.

Finally Rock took courage to say, "What pretty dolls."

This was encouraging; Florence and Dimple exchanged pleased glances.

"Do you think they are pretty?" asked Dimple. "I thought boys hated
dolls."

"I don't," said Rock. "I played with them myself for a long time, and I
have one now, but I don't play with it because I like to read better."

"He _is_ a nice boy," thought the girls.

"How funny," said Florence. "How came you to play with dolls?"

"Why, you see, I haven't any brothers and sisters. When I was a little
fellow I used to get so lonely, that my mother dressed a boy doll for
me, and I talked to it and pretended it was another boy."

"I haven't any brothers, or sisters either," said Dimple, "but Florence
has. I have Bubbles, though. Everybody can't have a Bubbles; she is next
best to a sister, or a cousin."

"Who is Bubbles?" asked Rock.

"She is the little colored girl you saw when you came out of the house;
she has lived here ever since I was a baby; she is a year older than I
am; her mother ran off and left her, and she is real nice to play with."

Dimple was fast getting over her embarrassment.

"Don't you go to school?" asked Rock.

"No, mamma has always taught me at home, but I am going next year. It is
vacation now."

"Yes, I know," said Rock, "that is why we came here. We are going to
stay for some time. I like to play with girls. Will you let me come and
play with you sometimes?"

"Yes, indeed," said Dimple, in her warm-hearted way. "My foot is nearly
well, and I can soon run about. I think I should like to play with a
nice boy."

"I hope I'm a nice boy," said Rock, "but I don't know. I suppose
everybody is mean sometimes."

"I think you look nice," said Dimple, honestly, looking at him from head
to foot.

"Why don't you say something, Florence?"

Florence thus appealed to, could say nothing.

"Florence is my cousin," said D