"Maybe they'll be out somewhere." With this faint hope she reached the
tenement and crept up the dingy stairs. She peeped in at the door. Alas!
Her uncle and aunt were in the kitchen, through which she had to pass. They
had company; some dirty-looking men and women, and there were a jug and
glasses on the table before them. Mary's heart sank, but she nodded bravely
to the company and tried to slip through the crowd to the other room. But
her aunt was quick to see that she carried something under her coat.
"What you got there? A Christmas present?" she sneered.
Mary flushed. "No," she said slowly, "just something I found."
"Found? Hello, what is it? A package!"
Her uncle advanced and snatched it from her.
"Please," pleaded Mary, "please, I found it. It is mine. I think it is only
a doll."
"A doll! Huh! Who needs a doll?" hiccoughed her uncle. "We want something
more to drink. We'll sell it--"
A bellow of laughter resounded through the room. The paper being torn
roughly away, poor Miranda stood revealed in all her faded beauty. The
pallid waxen face, straggling hair, and old-fashioned dress presented a
sorry sight to the greedy eyes which had expected to find something
exchangeable for drink.
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