THE DOLL AND HER FRIENDS. 5

telligent eye, and hair dressed in the first style of
fashion. I never thought myself vain, but I own
that in my youth I did pique myself upon my hair.
There was but one opinion about that. I have often
heard even grown-up people remark, “ How ing‘eni-
ously that doll’s wig is put on, and how nicely it is
arranged !” while at the same time my rising vanity
was crushed by the insinuation that I had an ab-
surd smirk or a ridiculous stare.

However, the opinions of human beings of ma-
ture age never much disturbed me. The world was
large enough for them and me; and I could con-
tentedly see them turn to their own objects of in-
terest, while I awaited in calm security the unquali-
fied praise of those whose praise alone was valuable
to me—their children and grandchildren.

I first opened my eyes to the light in the Pan-
theon Bazaar. How I came there I know not; my
conscious existence dates only from the moment in
which a silver-paper covering was removed from
my face, and the world burst upon my view. A
feeling of importance was the first that arose in my
mind. As the hand that held me turned me from
side to side, I looked about. Dolls were before me,
dolls behind, and dolls on each side. For a con-
siderable time I could see nothing else. The world
seemed made for dolls. But by degrees, as my