The Lonesomest Doll (1928)/Chapter 10

by Abbie Farwell Brown

X

The Plot

“Here is your supper, Queen,” panted Nichette as she reached the rosebush. She spread the scones and the slice of bread on a shingle and pushed it towards the Queen, who was sitting on the grass with Mignon in her arms. The four dolls stared in wooden admiration.

Clotilde had never before known what it was to be hungry and to wait for her supper. At first she looked sidewise at the coarse black bread and the cakes of fried porridge. But when she saw that Nichette looked surprised at her hesitation she took up a piece of this strange food, and when she had once nibbled a crumb she ate heartily. Oh, how good this picnic supper tasted to the little Queen who had always been served indoors at a stupid big table by men in powdered wigs and livery, with solemn grown folk standing all around.

“That was very nice!” said Clotilde when she had finished. “The next time you shall come to sup with me, but we shall not have such good things as those,” and she smiled at Nichette and threw her arm about her neck.

“Now come,” said Nichette, “come with me, Queen. It is almost dark, and we can creep into the cottage without Mother’s seeing us.”

So with Mignon held close, and her heart beat­ing fast,—for this was the first time she had been outside her palace after dark,—the Queen followed Nichette and her four dolls through the little gate and down the lane beyond, where the cottage was. They crept along close to the wall, and at last they came to the window of Nichette’s chamber.

“You crawl in through the window,” whis­pered Nichette, “and I will go around by the door.” So with much pushing and giggling and bruising of tender little knees that had never before climbed like this, the Queen was finally tumbled in at the window, and found herself in a heap on the floor of Nichette’s tiny white bed­room. Clotilde hid behind a chair, trembling with excitement, but laughing, too, at the fun of this adventure. And crouching so she heard Nichette and her mother talking in the room beyond.

How kind and gentle Mother Marie’s voice was! The poor little Queen all alone in the dark gave a great sigh as she wondered how it would seem to have a mother of her own: a mother of her own whom she could see every morning and every noon and every night. How safe one would feel, and never, never lonely.

“Now, then, off to bed with you, child,” said Mother Marie at last; and the Queen’s heart jumped. “Pray that your father may find his keys before to-morrow, or the Lord Chamberlain will have him punished. In five minutes I will come in to tuck you up and kiss you good­ night.”

Then Nichette came running into the little bedroom and shut the door behind her. “Oh, hurry, Queen!” she said. “Jump into bed just as you are, and cover yourself up close to your chin. I will hide in the closet here, and Mamma will never know, for she does not bring a candle.”

So the Queen crept into Nichette’s white bed, and drew the rose-scented sheets up over herself and Mignon. For Clotilde still held the lonesomest doll clasped close. Hardly had Nichette time to run into the closet before they heard the mother’s steps coming along to the door. The Queen lay very still and trembled, she hardly knew why. Surely not because she was afraid,—who could be afraid of that gentle-voiced mother?