y, and appeared again with a vision of beauty in
the shape of a doll. The dress of this wonderful creature exhibited the
latest audacities of French fashion. Her head made a bow; her eyes
went to sleep and woke again; she had a voice that said two words--more
precious than two thousand in the mouth of a mere living creature.
Kitty's arms opened and embraced her gift with a scream of ecstasy. That
fervent pressure found its way to the right spring. The doll squeaked:
"Mamma!"--and creaked--and cried again--and said: "Papa!" Kitty sat down
on the floor; her legs would support her no longer. "I think I shall
faint," she said quite seriously.

In the midst of the general laughter, Sydney silently placed a new toy
(a pretty little imitation of a jeweler's casket) at Kitty's side, and
drew back before the child could look at her. Mrs. Presty was the only
person present who noticed her pale face and the trembling of her hands
as she made the effort which preserved her composure.

The doll's necklace, bracelets, and watch and chain, riveted Kitty's
attention on the casket. Just as she thought of looking round for her
dear Syd, her father produced a new outburst of delight by presenting
a perambulator worthy of the doll. Her uncle followed with a parasol,
devoted to the preservation of the doll's complexion when she went
out for an airing. Then there came a pause. Where was the generous
grandmother's gift? Nobody remembered it; Mrs. Presty herself discovered
the inestimable sixpenny picture-book cast away and forgotten on a
distant window-seat. "I have a great mind to keep this," she said to
Kitty, "till you are old enough to value it properly." In the moment
of her absence at the window, Linley's mother-in-law lost the chance
of seeing him whisper to Sydney. "Meet me in the shrubbery in half an
hour," he said. She stepped back from him, startled by the proposal.
When Mrs. Presty was in the middle of the room again, Linley and the
governess were no longer near each other.

Having by this time recovered herself, Kitty got on her legs. "Now," the
spoiled child declared, addressing the company present, "I'm going to
play."

The doll was put into the perambulator, and was wheeled about the room,
while Mrs. Linley moved the chairs out of the way, and Randal attended
with the open parasol--under orders to "pretend that the sun was
shining." Once more the sixpenny picture-book was neglected. Mrs. Presty
picked it up from the floor,