THE HOUSE IS FURNISHED
THE furnishing of the doll’s house proved a keen delight to Sally, and
the infection spread from the little girl to the other members of the
household, even Papa Doctor often emerging from his carriage with his
arms full of mysterious, knobby parcels.
Mamma Wee, as Sally lovingly nicknamed Mrs. North, renounced pink teas
and bridge parties and spent hours every day sitting bow-legged like a
Turk or a tailor, while she arranged the fascinating little rooms, laid
small carpets and tacked up tiny, ruffled curtains. For all the windows
were real ones, with panes of glass let into the small sashes and with
the cunningest little white blinds that opened in the middle and could
be securely fastened with bolts at night. Sally, who, as Bob said, was
“always thinking up something else,” was already revolving in her own
mind the propriety of demanding screens to head off imaginary flies and
mosquitoes.
“Just fancy how perfectly _huge_ a _real_ fly would look to one of
the dollies!” she said to herself as she thoughtfully pondered on the
momentous question.
She scarcely liked to ask John if he would undertake such a particular
job, he had done so much already. “Pernickety” he was sure to call it.
So, after much mature deliberation, she concluded to drop the matter
for the present, at least.
“What is the use of screening up the back and sides when the front is
all open anyway?” Bob had exclaimed when Sally finally broached the
subject to him.
“Oh, but we are imagining the front is just like that in any other
house!” retorted Sally with some spirit.
“Well, then imagine that the flies can’t come in,” responded Bob. And
that settled it.
Odd as it may seem, the attic was the very first room that Sally
started to put in order. And a most delicious little place it was, with
its raftered ceiling and neatly plastered walls. With the vision of
their own immaculate attic in her mind’s eye, the child proceeded to
neatly range around the walls several doll’s trunks, a tiny spinning
wheel and two or three odd wooden chairs; also one of the many cradles
that had been presented as offerings at the shrine of the doll’s house.
A spinning wheel and a cradle comprised, for the most part, what Sally
denominated a “proper” attic.
From the rafters the child hung tiny bunches of good-smelling herbs,
for which cook had been levied upon. To be sure, no such thing existed
in city attics as a rule, but they did down at the farm. Sally suddenly
recollected that they also had spiders and cobwebs in the attic at the
farm. The very thought of a spider made her shiver, but she wondered if
it would not be well to affect a few cobwebs, and privately concluded
to request Miss Palmer, her beloved governess, to paint in a few with
water-colors,—a scheme into which Miss Palmer heartily entered, adding
on her own responsibility a fat, yellow spider, whose appearance was
so realistic that Sally shrieked when she first discovered it. Bob
promptly suggested that a few rats should be added. But rats, Miss
Palmer declared, were beyond her powers of creation. They would require
to be real, solid little beasts, and not simply painted flat on the
wall. To this Bob readily assented, gravely adding that if they were
only painted on the wall, of course they never could come down at night
to bite the dolls. Bob concluded his remarks by making a grimace so
fearfully suggestive of a prowling rat that Sally fled in anguish, and
Miss Palmer, while she could not refrain from smiling, felt forced to
request that he would cease from tormenting his sister.
From the attic to the kitchen is quite a long jump, at least it would
have been without the staircase. But the kitchen was the next on the
program, and thither were the forces of the furnishing party now
directed. Never had a new kitchen been so liberally supplied with
stoves, kettles, pans and pots, especially _stoves_. It really seemed
as if everyone who had not sent a cradle had sent a stove. Every kind
except an electric one, as Sally sadly reflected. But Miss Palmer
consoled her by saying that she doubted very much if electric stoves
came in so small a size. So Sally was presently very well content to
see a most fascinating little cast-iron affair set up, on top of which
was ranged an array of pots and kettles sufficient to prepare a dinner
for the most particular of dolls, albeit of diminutive size.
Opposite the stove stood a neat dresser, filled with a most wonderful
array of china and glass. To be sure, Sally had reserved the very best
for the china closet in the dining-room, but the display in the kitchen
was a goodly one. So also was the wooden and tinware that hung upon
hooks and displayed itself on shelves all around the walls. But the
article dearest to Sally’s heart, and over which the child lingered
longest in a perfect passion of delight was a miniature refrigerator,
an almost exact reproduction of the big one downstairs. Lined with
opal glass, its well-filled shelves were weighted down with all sorts
of delectable edibles that dolls are presumed to delight in. Its upper
compartment was filled with chunks of ground glass to represent ice.
Sally lingered long in rapture over this delightful bit of furniture,
and having at last located it entirely to her satisfaction, placed over
against it a cute little three-cornered closet containing a collection
of brooms and mops, and a wee carpet sweeper, whose tiny, revolving
brushes really picked up any small bits of fluff and lint that happened
to be about.
Surely never was a kitchen so perfectly and generously supplied with
all things needful, from the shining yellow oil-cloth on the floor to
the beautiful blue table and chairs, the gift of nurse, who declared
them to be exactly like those used in the “auld counthry.” The whole
shining region was presided over by a stiff, colored cook in turban and
apron, who, alas! could never sit down on the beautiful blue chairs, as
she belonged to the variety of dolls that does not bend in the middle.
Out of the kitchen opened the laundry, which was furnished quite as
perfectly in its way, with a ravishing little laundry set which Mamma
Wee had discovered in one of the big department stores. Everything
was most complete and the whole family lingered in admiration over
the shiny copper boiler that adorned the neat stove, the glittering
flatirons and very tiny clothes-pins. The arrangement for heating
the irons, a black, pointed kind of stove against the sides of which
the irons stood up flatly, filled everybody with ecstasy. Sarah, the
laundress, begged for a loan of it, declaring that she had never seen
anything that could compare with it for heating real irons.
[Illustration]
This joking pleased Sally immensely, and she invited Sarah to use the
laundry for the family washing whenever she felt so inclined. Whereupon
Sarah departed laughing and declaring that she had “never seen anything
to come up to it, before nor since.” “Before nor since” was a favorite
expression of Sarah’s, the meaning of which neither Sally nor indeed
anybody else had ever been able to fathom. “Forevermore” was another
expression over which the little girl pondered deeply. She was afraid
to ask for information, lest she should give offense, for Mamma Wee
had carefully trained her little daughter to be especially considerate
of the feelings of all who were dependents in the household. Therefore
Sally wondered in secret, and the mystery was never solved, as far as I
know, to the end of the chapter.
The dining-room came next in the natural sequence of things, and an
extremely imposing and spacious room it was, with floor and paneling
polished to represent hard wood, while above the panels was displayed
a gorgeous paper of a lively red pattern. The ceiling was raftered and
studded with tiny electric light bulbs. A fine bow window occupied one
whole end. In truth, ’twas a love of a room and no mistake.
A lofty china closet contained all the fine glass and china, while a
sideboard of newest pattern groaned under its weight of rich German
silver. Everything was of the most novel and up-to-date pattern. The
round table, the finely carved chairs, and the beautiful Persian rug
that Grandma had knitted from ravelings of carpet, worked in with heavy
crochet cotton, all went to make up a picture not easily to be rivaled
in the annals of doll’s houses.
The bow window was a delight in itself. All around it ran a wide
seat which Sally piled high with tiny silk cushions, while crisp
muslin curtains finished with wee ruffles shaded the panes. A couple
of canaries hung aloft in their gilded cages. The whole effect was
stunning, and the assembled family silently gloated over it and
unitedly envied the dolls who were to enjoy such an ideal dining-room.