delight of
Flo and Do they were left out of the trunks for Clara to play with on
the way, her own waxen Blanche Marie Annabel being too delicate to be
used.

"Oh my patience, this is worse than tumbling about in a mail-bag,"
groaned Dora, after hours of great suffering, for Clara treated the poor
dolls as if they had no feeling.

She amused herself with knocking their heads together, shutting them in
the window with their poor legs hanging out, swinging them by one arm,
and drawing lines with a pencil all over their faces till they looked as
if tattooed by savages. Even brave Flora was worn out and longed for
rest, finding her only comfort in saying, "I told you so," when Clara
banged them about, or dropped them on the dusty floor to be trampled on
by passing feet.

There they were left, and would have been swept away if a little dog had
not found them as the passengers were leaving the car and carried them
after his master, trotting soberly along with the bundle in his mouth,
for fortunately Clara had put them into the paper before she left them,
so they were still together in the trials of the journey.

"Hullo, Jip, what have you got?" asked the young man as the little dog
jumped up on the carriage seat and laid his load on his master's knee,
panting and wagging his tail as if he had done something to be praised
for.

"Dolls, I declare! What can a bachelor do with the poor things? Wonder
who Maria Plum is? Midge will like a look at them before we send them
along;" and into the young man's pocket they went, trembling with fear
of the dog, but very grateful for being rescued from destruction.

Jip kept his eye on them, and gave an occasional poke with his cold nose
to be sure they were there as they drove through the bustling streets of
New York to a great house with an inscription over the door.

"I do hope Midge will be a nicer girl than Clara. Children ought to be
taught to be kind to dumb dolls as well as dumb animals," said Dora, as
the young man ran up the steps and hurried along a wide hall.

"I almost wish we were at home with our own kind little mothers," began
Flo, for even her spirits were depressed by bad treatment, but just then
a door opened and she cried out in amazement, "Bless my heart, this man
has more children than even Mr. Poppleheimer!"

She might well think so, for all down both sides of the long room stood
little white beds with a small pale face on every pillow. All the eyes
that were