"And a spirit-lamp, too, just like Clover's, and a cunning, teeny-weeny
kitchen and a stove to boil things on. Mamma, when shall I be old enough
to have a house all of my own?"
"Not till you are tired of playing with dolls, I am afraid."
"Well, that will be never. If I thought I ever could be tired of Mabel, I
should be so ashamed of myself that I should not know what to do. You
oughtn't to say such things, Mamma; she might hear you, too, and have her
feelings hurt. And please don't call her _that_," said Amy, who had as
strong an objection to the word "doll" as mice are said to have to the
word "cat."
Next morning the dear home people proceeded on their way, and Clover fell
to work resolutely on her housekeeping, glad to keep busy, for she had a
little fear of being homesick for Katy. Every small odd and end that she
had brought with her from Burnet came into play now. The photographs were
pinned on the wall, the few books and ornaments took their places on the
extemporized shelves and on the table, which, thanks to Mrs. Hope, was no
longer bare, but hidden by a big square of red canton flannel. There was
almost always a little bunch of flowers from the Wade greenhouses, which
were supposed to come from Mrs. Wade; and altogether the effect was cosey,
and the little interior looked absolutely pretty, though the result was
attained by such very simple means.
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