humoring the joke.

Syd failed to see the joke. "Only two more," she answered as gravely as
ever--and lifted up from the floor two miserable dolls, reduced to the
last extremity of dirt and dilapidation. "My two eldest," this strange
child resumed, setting up the dolls against one of the empty trunks.
"The eldest is a girl, and her name is Syd. The other is a boy, untidy
in his clothes, as you see. Their kind mamma forgives them when they are
naughty, and buys ponies for them to ride on, and always has something
nice for them to eat when they are hungry. Have you got a kind mamma,
Lizzie? And are you very fond of her?"

Those innocent allusions to the neglect which was the one sad experience
of Syd's young life touched the servant's heart. A bygone time was
present to her memory, when she too had been left without a playfellow
to keep her company or a fire to warm her, and she had not endured it
patiently.

"Oh, my dear," she said, "your poor little arms are red with cold. Come
to me and let me rub them."

But Syd's bright imagination was a better protection against the cold
than all the rubbing that the hands of a merciful woman could offer.
"You are very kind, Lizzie," she answered. "I don't feel the cold when
I am playing with my children. I am very careful to give them plenty of
exercise, we are going to walk in the Park."

She gave a hand to each of the dolls, and walked slowly round and round
the miserable room, pointing out visionary persons of distinction and
objects of interest. "Here's the queen, my dears, in her gilt coach,
drawn by six horses. Do you see her scepter poking out of the carriage
window? She governs the nation with that. Bow to the queen. And now look
at the beautiful bright water. There's the island where the ducks live.
Ducks are happy creatures. They have their own way in everything, and
they're good to eat when they're dead. At least they used to be good,
when we had nice dinners in papa's time. I try to amuse the poor little
things, Lizzie. Their papa is dead. I'm obliged to be papa and mamma to
them, both in one. Do you feel the cold, my dears?" She shivered as she
questioned her imaginary children. "Now we are at home again," she said,
and led the dolls to the empty fireplace. "Roaring fires always in _my_
house," cried the resolute little creature, rubbing her hands cheerfully
before the bleak blank grate.

Warm-hearted Lizzie could control herself no longer.

"If the child would