The nursemaid had been wringing out the doll's clothes for the little
lady, but now they moved on together.
"Dood-bye!" said the little lady, smiling and waving her hand. I
waved mine, and then Jemima, having parted with the tinsmith, came up,
and we went home.
I never saw the beaver bonnets again.
CHAPTER XIII
POLLY--THE PEW AND THE PULPIT--THE FATE OF THE FLAT IRON
By the time that my father came to fetch us away, I was wonderfully
improved in health and strength. I even wanted to go back outside the
coach; but this was not allowed.
I did not forget the little lady in the white beaver, even after my
return to Dacrefield. I was fond of drawing, and I made what seemed to
me a rather striking portrait of her (at least as to colouring), and
wore it tied by a bit of string round my neck. It is unromantic to
have to confess that it fell at last into the washhand basin, and was
reduced to pulp.
I brought my farthing flat-iron home with me, and it was for long a
favourite plaything. I used to sprinkle corners of my pocket-handkerchief
with water, as I had seen Nurse Bundle "damp fine things" before ironing
them. But after all, "play" of this kind is dull work played alone.
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