Dick and Dolly

Aunt Rachel’s gift proved to be a fountain.

This was quite elaborate, and had to be set up by workmen who came from town for the purpose. It was very beautiful, and added greatly to the effect of the playground. When the weather grew warmer they were to have goldfish in it, but at present there were aquatic plants and pretty shells and stones.

It was small wonder that the children didn’t feel need of other companionship, and had it not been for Jack Fuller, Dolly would never have thought of being lonely.

She and Dick were such good chums that their company was quite sufficient for each other; but when Jack came over to play, he and Dick were quite apt to play boyish games that Dolly didn’t care for.

On such occasions she usually brought out her doll-carriage and one or two of her favourite dolls, and played by herself.

And so, it happened, that one afternoon when Dick and Jack were playing leap-frog, Dolly wandered off to the wood with Arabella and Araminta in the perambulator. She never felt lonely in the wood, for there were always the squirrels and birds, and always a chance that she might see a fairy.

So, with her dolls, she had company enough, and sitting down by a big flat rock, she set out a table with acorn cups and leaves for plates, and tiny pebbles for cakes and fruit.

Arabella and Araminta had already been seated at the table, and Dolly was talking for them and for herself, as she arranged the feast.

“No, Arabella,” she said; “you can’t have any jelly pudding to-day, dear, for you are not very well. You must eat bread and milk, and here it is.”

She set an acorn cup in front of the doll, and then turned to prepare Araminta’s food, when she saw a little girl coming eagerly toward her.

It was a pretty little girl, about her own age, with dark curls, and a pink linen frock.

“Hello,” she said, softly, “I want to play with you.”

“Come on,” said Dolly, more than pleased to have company. “Sit right down at the table. There’s a place. I fixed it for Mr. Grey Squirrel, but he didn’t come.”

“I didn’t bring my doll,” said the little girl in pink, “I – I came away in a hurry.”

“I’ll lend you one of mine,” said Dolly. “They’re Arabella and Araminta; take your choice.”

“What’s your own name?” said the visitor, as she picked up Araminta.

“Dolly, – Dolly Dana. What’s yours?”

“I don’t want to tell you,” said the little girl, looking confused.

“Never mind,” said Dolly, sorry for her guest’s evident embarrassment, but thinking her a very strange person. “I’ll call you Pinkie, ’cause your dress is such a pretty pink.”

“All right,” said Pinkie, evidently much relieved.

“You’re not – you’re not a fairy, are you?” said Dolly, hopefully, yet sure she wasn’t one.

“Oh, no,” said Pinkie, laughing. “I’m just a little girl, but I – I ran away, and so I don’t want to tell you my name.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” said Dolly, who was always willing to accept a situation. “Never mind about that. Let’s play house.”

“Yes; let’s. You keep this place, ’cause you’ve fixed your table so nice, and I’ll live over here.”

Pinkie selected another choice spot for her home, and soon the two families were on visiting terms.

Dolly and her daughter, Arabella, went to call on Pinkie and her daughter, Araminta, and as they had already selected the names of Mrs. Vandeleur and Mrs. Constantine, their own names didn’t matter anyway.

Dolly was Mrs. Vandeleur, because she thought that title had a very grand sound, and Pinkie chose Mrs. Constantine because she had just come to that name in her “Outlines of the World’s History,” and thought it was beautiful.

So Mrs. Vandeleur rang the bell at Mrs. Constantine’s mansion, and sent in two green leaves, which were supposed to be the visiting cards of herself and her daughter.

“Come in, come in,” said Mrs. Constantine, in a high-pitched voice. “I’m so glad to see you. Won’t you sit down?”

Dolly sat down very elegantly on the root of a tree, and propped Arabella against another.

“I’m just going to have supper,” said the hostess, “and I hope you and your daughter will give me the pleasure of your company.”

“Thank you. I will stay, but I must go ’way right after dessert. I have an engagement with – with the fairies.”

“Oh, how lovely! Are you going to see them dance?”

“Yes,” said Dolly, greatly pleased to learn that Pinkie believed in fairies; “they sent me a special invitation.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Mrs. Constantine, promptly. “I’m always invited to their dances.”

So again the acorn cups and leaves came into use, and the four drank unlimited cups of tea, and ate all sorts of things, Arabella having apparently recovered from her indisposition.

“Now, we’ll go to the fairies’ ball,” said Pinkie, as with a sweep of her hand she cleared the table of dishes and viands and all. “What shall we wear?”

“I’ll wear red velvet,” said Dolly, whose tastes were gay, “and a wide light-blue sash, and gold slippers.”

“You’ll look lovely,” declared Mrs. Constantine. “I’ll wear spangled blue satin, and a diamond crown.”

“Then I’ll have a diamond crown, too,” said Dolly.

“No; you have a ruby one. We don’t want to be just alike.”

“Yes, I’ll have a ruby one, and my daughter can have a diamond one, and your daughter a ruby one, – then we’ll be fair all around.”

“Yes, that’s fair,” agreed Pinkie; “now let’s start.”

They carried the dolls with them, and going a little farther into the wood, they selected a smooth, mossy place where fairies might easily dance if they chose.

“We must fix it up for them,” said Pinkie; “so they’ll want to come.”

Eagerly the two girls went to work. They picked up any bits of stick or stone that disfigured the moss, and then, at Pinkie’s direction, they made a circular border of green leaves, and what few wild flowers they could find.

A row of stones was laid as an outside border, and a branch of green was stuck upright in the centre.

“Now it looks pretty,” said Pinkie, with a nod of satisfaction. “Let’s sit down and wait.”

“Will they really come?” asked Dolly, as with Araminta and Arabella they seated themselves near by.

“Oh, no, I s’pose not,” said Pinkie, with a little sigh. “I’ve done this thing so many times, and they never have come. But it’s fun to do it, and then I always think perhaps they may.”