Dolly knows what's the matter--
Dolly and I.
It isn't the mumps nor the measles--
Oh! dear, I shall die!
It's the mothering we want, Dolly,
The--what shall I call it?
And grandpa says he has sent--
He put the 'spatch safe in his wallet.
I know well enough that he dropped
That telegraph 'spatch in the fire,
If mother just knew, she'd come
If 'twas on the telegraph wire!
She'd take my poor head,
That is splitting this very minute,
And she'd sing "There's a Happy Land,"
And the hymn that has "Darling" in it.
Course, I like grandpa's house;
It's the splendidest place to stay,
When there's all the outdoors to live in,
And nothing to do but to play;
Somehow you forget your mother--
That is, just the littlest bit,
Though if she were here, I suppose
That I shouldn't mention it.
But oh! there's a difference, Dolly,
When your head is so full of pains
That ('cepting the ache that's in 'em)
There's nothing left of your brains,
Remember how nice it feels, Dolly,
To have your head petted and "poored."
Ache? Why I ache all over,
And my bed is as hard as a board.
Nurse says "It's a sweet, lovely morning."
It may be for all that I care;
There's just one spot in this great wide world
That is pretty--I wish I was there!
I can see the white roses climbing
All over the low porch door,
And the daisies and buttercups growing--
I never half loved them before.
And mother--let's see! she's standing
In that very same door, no doubt;
She loves to look out in the morning
And see what the world is about,
In a pale-blue something-or-other--
A loose sort of wrapper, I guess;
As if a few yards of sky
Had been taken to make a dress.
And up from the pine woods yonder
Comes a beautiful woodsy smell,
And the breeze keeps a hinting of May flowers--
The real-pink arbutus bell;
And I think most likely the robins
Have built in the cherry tree;
And by and by there'll be birdies--
And I shall not be there to see!
Did you hear any noise, Dolly!
Speak, Dolly, you little witch!
As if someone was laughing--or crying!
I couldn't tell which!
We've kept from crying, so far;
We've choked but we wouldn't cry;
I've just talked it out to you, dear;
I had to, or else I'd die.
But if that is you, mother--
And I know by your lips that it is--
I'll just squeeze your head off!--
You think that all I want is a kiss!
O mother! to papa and Tom
You needn't got mention it,
But you know it was homesickness
Almost killed your poor little Kit!
[Illustration: American Indian Dolls.]
[Illustration: Japanese Dolls.]
[Illustration: Dolls of Europe, Africa and Asia.]
[Page 55--A Lady Making Dolls]
[Illustration: Lady Making Dolls.]
_Every Dolly Should Have A Name_