Miss Drayton explained her prolonged absence by relating to her sister
the story of their little fellow-voyager. Mrs. Patterson's languid air
gave way to attention and interest. It was pitiful to think that so near
them a deserted child had sobbed away the lonely hours of the long
night. A faint smile came as the lady listened to the tale of Rosy Posy,
Anne's "best little friend" with the "such lovely long yellow curls."
Then her eyes grew misty again.
"Poor all-alone little one!" she exclaimed. "With no friend, not even a
doll." Then at a sudden thought her eyes sparkled. "Sarah," she said,
"I'll make her a doll. And it shall be a darling. You remember the baby
dolls I used to make for church bazaars?"
"What beauties they were!" said her sister. "Like real babies, instead
of just-alike dolls that come wholesale out of shops. I remember one I
bought to send out West in a missionary box. You had given it the
dearest crooked little smile. I wanted to keep it and cuddle it myself.
But, Emily dear, it is too great an undertaking for you to make a doll
now. You'll overtax your strength. And, besides, you've no materials.
We'll buy a doll in Paris for this little girl."
"Paris! With all these lonesome days between!" objected Mrs. Patterson.
"Indeed, it will not hurt me, Sarah. Why, I feel better already. And
you'll help me. If you'll get out your work-basket, I'll rummage in this
trunk for what I need."
A muslin skirt was selected as material for the doll's body and her
underwear, and a dainty dressing-sacque was chosen to make her frock.
Mrs. Patterson pencilled an outline on the cloth, then rubbed out,
redrew, changed, and corrected the lines, with painstaking care. At
last she threw back her head and looked at her work through narrowed
eyelids.
"She is going to be a very satisfactory baby," she announced; "just
plump enough to cuddle comfortably."
"Surely you will stop now, dear, and finish another time," urged Miss
Drayton, after the pieces were cut out and sewed together with firm,
short, even stitches. "You may not feel it, but I am sure you are
tired--and how tired you will be when you _do_ feel it!"
"Indeed, no, Sarah," said Mrs. Patterson. "This rests me. I've not
thought about myself for an hour. Why did you mention the tiresome
subject? That skirt must have another tuck, please. And it needs lace at
the bottom. Just borrow some, dear, from any of my white things. Now I
must have some sawdust."
The stewardess came to their help, and persuaded a steward to open a
case of bottles and give her the sawdust in which they were packed.
Mrs. Patterson received it with an exclamation of delight and held out a
silver coin in return. But Vaughan put her hands behind her.
"Please'm," she said, "it ain't much. But I wanted to do something for
that poor little orphant."
Mrs. Patterson smiled her thanks, then she pushed and shook and crammed
the sawdust in place, taking a childlike eager interest in seeing the
limp form grow shapely and firm. This done, she consented to take
luncheon and a nap, after which Miss Drayton brought Anne to make her
acquaintance. When Mrs. Patterson sent them out "for a whiff of fresh
air," she thrust into her sister's hand a workbag with frilly white
things to tuck and ruffle. Then she drew out her box of colors. Under
her deft touches, now fast, now slow, the baby face grew life-like and
lovable.
"She's to be a comfort baby for a troubled little mother," said Mrs.
Patterson to herself. "She must be one of the happy-looking babies that
one always smiles at."
And she was. Her mouth curved upward in a smile that brought out a dear
little dimple in the left cheek, and her big blue eyes crinkled at the
corners with a smile climbing upward from the lips. There were two
shell-like little ears and some soft shadowy locks of hair, peeping out
from under a lace-edged cap with strings tied under the chin.
When she was fitted out in the garments that Miss Drayton had fashioned,
that lady exclaimed: "Why, Emily, Emily! You never painted a picture
that was more beautiful. That darling smile! And the dimple!"
There was some debate as to when the doll should be presented and it was
finally decided to give her as bed-time comfort. Promptly at eight
o'clock, Mrs. Patterson insisted on undressing Anne, while Miss Drayton
and Vaughan hovered outside the open door. Anne submitted rather
unwillingly and took a long time to brush her teeth. Then she knelt down
to say her prayers. After the
"Now I lay me down to sleep"
there followed silence. Indeed, she remained so long on her knees that
Miss Drayton whispered to Mrs. Patterson a warning against standing and
Vaughan moved to get a chair. The whisper brought Anne to her feet.
"I oughtn't kept you waiting," she said; and then she explained
shamefacedly, "I wasn't saying my prayers for good. I was just saying
them over and over for lonesome. It's--it's such a big night in here all
by myself."
Mrs. Patterson gave her a good-night kiss and turned the covers back for
her to snuggle in bed. And there--wonder of wonders!--there lay in the
bed a whiterobed figure--a dear, beautiful, smiling baby doll. Anne
looked at it for one breathless minute and then clasped it close.
"You precious! you lovely!" she exclaimed. "Is--is she my own baby?"
"Yes, she's yours," Mrs. Patterson assured her. "She came to take the
place of Rosy Posy who had to stay at home. She hasn't 'long yellow
curls' like Rosy Posy, but you see she's young yet--only a baby in long
dresses. I think maybe her hair will grow."
Hugging the baby doll tight in one arm, Anne threw the other around Mrs.
Patterson's neck, and kissed her again and again.
"You are so good. You are so good," she said over and over.
"What are you going to call your new baby?" asked Miss Drayton.
"I'd like to name her for you," Anne said, looking at Mrs. Patterson.
Mrs. Patterson smiled. "My name is Emily," she said.
"Then that's her name. Mrs. Emily Patterson. Only--" there was a
thoughtful pause--"that does sound sorter 'dicalous for a baby in a long
dress."
"Call her Emily Patterson," suggested the doll's namesake.
But Anne shook her head. "That wouldn't sound 'spectful," she objected;
"and Patterson is your 'Mrs.' name." Then her face brightened. "Oh! Her
name can be Mrs. Emily Patterson, and I'll call her a pet name. I don't
like nicknames, but pet names are dear. She shall be what Aunt Charity
used to call me--'Honey-Sweet.' I can sing it like she did:--
"'Honey, honey! Sweet, sweet, sweet!
Honey, honey! Honey-Sweet!'"
As Anne crooned the words over and over, her voice sank drowsily. When
Miss Drayton went a few minutes later to turn out the light, Anne was
fast asleep, smiling in her dreams at Honey-Sweet who lay smiling on the
pillow beside her.