Her bonnet had fallen off, and her hair stuck out wildly in every
direction. Her legs were doubled under her in the most helpless fashion.
She was the forlornest figure of a doll imaginable. Presently Mary drew her
hands away from her eyes and looked down at Miranda. There was something in
the doll's attitude as she lay there which touched the little girl's heart.
Once she had seen a woman who had been injured in the street,--she would
never forget it. The poor creature's eyes had been closed, and her face,
under the fallen bonnet, was of this same pasty color. Mary shuddered.
Suddenly she felt a warm rush of pity for the doll.
"You poor old thing!" she exclaimed, looking at Miranda almost tenderly.
"I'm sorry I shook you. You look so tired and sad and homesick! I wonder if
somebody is worrying about you this minute. It was very wicked of me to
take you away--on Christmas Eve, too! I wish I had left you where I found
you. Maybe some little girl is crying now because you are lost."
Mary stooped and lifted the doll gently upon her knees. As she took Miranda
up, the blue eyes opened and seemed to look full at her. Miranda's one
beauty was her eyes. Mary felt her heart grow warmer and warmer toward the
quaint stranger.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61