om, looked wistfully toward the window, as though she
saw outside some one whom she loved, but who could not or would not come
to her. Then she stepped toward her uncle, who had seated himself again
in the big chair, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, said earnestly:

"Uncle, I've been brought nearer to Aunt Kate to-day than ever in my
life before, and the lonely feeling is almost all gone. I found a little
old trunk, far back under the rafters, with her doll in it, her clothes
and her writing; and now I see how _real_ she was,--not like a dream, as
she used to seem, but just one of us. You know what I mean."

"A trunk, Dorry! What? Where?" was all the response Uncle George made,
as, hastening from the room, he started for the garret, keeping ahead of
the others all the way.

CHAPTER XVII.

DORRY ASKS A QUESTION.

DONALD and Dorothy followed their uncle closely, though he seemed to
have forgotten them; and they were by his side when he reached the
little treasure-trove, with its still opened lid.

Paying no attention to their presence, Mr. Reed hurriedly, but with the
tenderest touch, took out every article and examined it closely.

When he came to the diary, which Dorry that day had restored unopened to
the trunk, he eagerly scanned its pages here and there; then, to the
great disappointment of the D's he silently laid it down, as if
intending later to take it away with him.

"May we see that, Uncle?" asked Dorry, softly. "Isn't it right for us to
read it? We found out it was her diary; but I put it back."

Without replying, Uncle George went on with his examination. Finally,
replacing the last article in the trunk, he closed the lid with a
hopeless air, and turned toward Dorry, saying:

"Dorothy, where is that doll? It must go back where you found it, and
the clothes too."

She handed it to him without a word--all her hope turned to bitterness.

But as he took it, noting her grieved expression, he said:

"Thank you, my dear. You are too old to play with dolls--"

"Oh, Uncle, it is too bad for you to speak so! You _know_ I didn't mean
to _play_ with it. It isn't a dolly to me; she's more like--like
something with life. But you can shut her up in the dark, if you want
to."

"Dorry! Dorry!" said Don, reproachfully. "Don't be so excited."

In a flash of thought, Dorry made up her mind to speak--now or never.

"Uncle!" said she, solemnly, "I am going to ask you a question; and, if
it is wron