The Lonesomest Doll
that room, and open that oaken chest. Her fingers ached to smooth Mignon’s hair, to kiss her and cuddle her close. She had often begged Pierre to let her go into the west wing, but he always said,—“No, no, child! The Queen does not like children, and will allow none in the palace. It would make her very angry.”
So Nichette knew that she should never even see the lonesomest doll, unless some time she could steal into the palace without any one’s knowing. But fierce soldiers mounted guard at the front gate, and at all the gates except the little one in the garden, to which Pierre held the keys. Through that would be her way—if she had the keys. But she could never, never enter without her father’s keys, and he kept them always by him, very carefully, because he was the Lord Chamberlain’s porter; and he was proud of the trust.
Nichette often wondered if a clever person might not take the keys from his pocket. But she would never dare do this; for Pierre was very stem when one was naughty; and she knew he would think this the naughtiest thing which