THE LITTLE LADY
My mamma got quite well as soon as my frock and trousers were finished;
and whenever she was allowed to go out with her aunt she took me with
her. The girl whose sheet had been taken for the tent had made me a
scarf of violet-colored satin, and a white silk bonnet, and these I
always had on when we went out.
In a few weeks, however, I was destined to lose this kind mamma, and
become the dear doll of another. If I could have foreseen that this
would happen I should have fretted very much, because I was so fond of
Ellen Plummy.
But it did happen, and in this manner.
One fine summer’s day Mrs. Sharpshins took Ellen for a walk in St.
James’ Park, and after a little time we came to the piece of water, and
saw several pretty children feeding the swans that live in that water.
The children had some bread and small buns, which they broke in little
pieces and threw into the water, where they floated till the swans swam
up to the bread and bent their long white necks down to eat. Ellen
begged her aunt to let her stay and look at the swans. ‘Look, Maria!’
said she to me, ‘what beautiful, bright, black eyes they have, and what
lovely, snow-white necks, and how gracefully the breast of the swan
moves upon the water, while the necks are in the shape of a beautiful
arch!’
[Illustration: And These I Always Had On When We Went Out.]
While they were looking at the swans, a very tall footman, in a green
and gold livery, with a long, golden-headed cane and powdered hair
came up to Mrs. Sharpshins from a carriage that was waiting near at
hand, in which sat a grown-up lady with a little lady by her side. Both
of them had also been observing the swans; but in doing so the little
lady had at the same time fixed her eyes on me.
‘The Countess of Flowerdale wishes to speak with you,’ said the footman
to Mrs. Sharpshins. Now the countess was a great lady, who sometimes
employed Aunt Sharpshins to make her dresses for the country and to
walk in the garden. We went with the footman, and I could see that Mrs.
Sharpshins was in a great agitation.
‘Mrs. Sharpshins,’ said the countess, smiling, and with a gentle voice,
‘this young lady has been looking at your little girl’s doll more than
at the swans, and she has taken a great fancy to the doll. The little
girl is your niece, I believe. Will she part with her doll? I shall be
glad to purchase it or send her another.’
‘Oh, anything your ladyship wishes, of course,’ said Mrs. Sharpshins,
with a very low curtsey.
‘Would you like to part with your doll, my dear?’ said the lady to
Ellen.
I felt Ellen give me such a close hug as much as to say, ‘Oh, no, no!’
But her aunt stooped down and looked in her face under her bonnet with
such a look! The great lady did not see it, but I saw it.
‘I could not think of taking it from your little niece if she is
indisposed to part with it,’ said the great lady in a sweet voice.
Upon this the small lady by her side, who seemed to be about eight
years of age, turned red in the face--the corners of her mouth drooped
down--her eyes grew large and round, and out rolled one large, proud
tear. But she did not cry or say a word.
Whether it was this one silent tear of the little lady, or the sweet
voice of the great lady, or the look that her aunt had given her under
her bonnet, I do not know, but Ellen, first giving me a kiss, lifted
me up towards the carriage window, and gave me into the hands of the
little lady with such a sigh!
‘Thank you, my dear,’ said the great lady, ‘I will take care to send
you another handsome doll and doll’s cradle to-morrow morning, and
something besides; and Mrs. Sharpshins, you can make me three or four
more morning dresses the same as the last. I am in no hurry for them.’
The very tall footman got up to his place behind the carriage--the
carriage drove off; the great lady nodded to Ellen; the little lady
kissed her white glove to her; and Mrs. Sharpshins made a low curtsey,
taking care to step just before Ellen in order that they should not see
the tears that were just beginning to gush out of her eyes.
My new mamma, the little Lady Flora, was very pretty. She had a
complexion like the most delicate wax-work, large bright eyes, a dimple
in each cheek, and dimples all over her little knuckles. She had taken
off her gloves to arrange my hair better, and began at once to talk to
me in a very delightful manner.
We drove from St. James’ Park into Hyde Park, and on the way we passed
a very great doll indeed, but looking so cross and black, and without
any clothes on. ‘Look there, dear!’ said my little lady mamma, ‘that
is the strongest and largest doll ever seen in London. His name is
“Achilles,”--and the ladies of London had him made of iron and brass,
because the Duke of Wellington was so lucky in playing at ball on the
fields of Waterloo!’ The countess seemed much amused with this account.
We met a great number of elegant carriages on our way, and nearly all
the ladies inside exchanged salutations with the countess, and nodded
to my little lady mamma. All who were elegant, and richly dressed,
and beautiful, and in fine carriages with rich liveries, seemed to
know each other, and to be upon such delightful terms of affectionate
intimacy! ‘Oh!’ thought I, ‘here is a new world! Everybody seems to
respect, and admire, and love everybody else! How very delightful!’
[Illustration]