'll lock her in."

"You've locked her in before."

"I'll--I'll hide the key."

"Where you can find it! Think again."

Aunt Olivia thrust the doll back into its coffin with unsteady hands.
The red in her face had faded to a faint, abiding pink. She locked the
drawer and drew out the key. She strode to the window and flung it out
with a wide sweep of her arm.

The minister's wife, ignorant of the results of her kind little
experiment, resolved to question Rebecca Mary the next time she came on
an errand. She would do it with extreme caution.

"I'll just feel round," she said. "I want to know if her aunt's given it
to her. You think she must have, don't you, Robert? By this time? Why,
it was six weeks ago I carried it over! It was such a nice, friendly
little doll! By this time they would be such friends--if her aunt gave
it to her. Robert, you think--"

"I think it's going to rain," the minister said. But he kissed her to
make it easier.

Rebecca Mary came over to bring Aunt Olivia's rule for parson-cake that
the minister's wife had asked for.

"Come in, Rebecca Mary," the minister's wife said, cordially. "Don't you
want to see the new dress Rhoda's doll is going to have? I suppose you
could make your doll's dress yourself?" It seemed a hard thing to say.
Feeling round was not pleasant.

"P'haps I could, but she doesn't wear dresses," Rebecca Mary answered,
gravely.

"No?" This was puzzling. "Her clothes don't come off, I suppose?" Then
it could not be the nice, friendly doll.

"No'm. Nor they don't go on, either. She isn't a feel doll."

"A--what kind did you say, dear?" The minister's wife paused in her work
interestedly. Distinctly, Miss Olivia had not given her THE doll; but
this doll--"I don't think I quite understood, Rebecca Mary."

"No'm; it's a little hard. She isn't a FEEL doll, I said. I never had a
feel one. Mine hasn't any body, just a soul. But she's a great comfort."

"Robert," appealed the minister's wife, helplessly. This was a case for
the minister--a case of souls.

"Tell us some more about her, Rebecca Mary," the minister urged, gently.
But there was helplessness, too, in his eyes.

"Why, that's all!" returned Rebecca Mary, in surprise. "Of course I
can't dress her or undress her or take her out calling. But it's a great
comfort to rock her soul to sleep."

"Call Rhoda," murmured the wife to the minister; but Rhoda was already
there. She volunteered prompt explanation. There was