The Lonesomest Doll (1928)/Chapter 5

by Abbie Farwell Brown

V

In the Queen’s Palace

Nichette scampered over the drawbridge and across the lawn to the little turret door. It was a relief to be out of sight of those staring window­ eyes in the palace walls,—she hoped no one had seen her. She knew just which key to choose for the turret door and it opened easily. It was fortunate that she had learned the way so well by listening to Pierre; for it was dark inside, Nichette had not expected that! She could scarcely see the stairs which wound dizzily up and up like a twisted ladder.

But bravely she began to climb, counting the steps as she went,—“thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five.” Evidently these stairs were seldom used, for now and then a dusty spider’s web brushed unpleasantly across her face and got into her mouth. There was another entrance upon the Queen’s lawn from Her Majesty’s own apartments, as Nichette knew. This was only the back way that Pierre the Porter and a few others sometimes found convenient.

At last she reached the top, and paused out of breath to select the third key for the door in front of her. It took but a moment, for she knew them all by heart. This was a rusty iron fellow with a queer notch in the end. He fitted easily, and the lock “clicked” an invitation to come in.

When Nichette pushed open the door, oh! she gave a scream. Almost on the threshold a figure in black armor was pointing his sword directly at her as if he meant to cut her head off. Ni­chette dodged back and almost shut the door in his face. But in a moment she saw how silly she had been to be afraid. This room was the armory. Surely, this was only an empty suit of armor placed there to frighten any intruder like herself. There were many others ranged along the walls, stiff and immovable and glum, with their iron hats pulled down over their eyes,—if they had any,—and their iron gloves grasping strange and dangerous weapons. But the doorkeeper looked so particularly alive and fierce that Nichette steered past him in a wide half-circle, keeping her eyes on him to make sure that he did not turn and follow her out of the little door opposite the first one.

She did not pause to examine the beautiful banners and shields hung all about, nor the cu­rious patterns of suns and stars made upon the walls by the blades of glittering swords and lances and knives. It was a wonderful room, but the next one was even more wonderful. Nichette entered on tiptoe, and though she had expected to see a tempting sight, she could not help cry­ing “Oh!” to find it even more delightful than her dreams.

Around the four walls were boxes upon boxes of toys, packed one above another. Games and carts, toy animals and doll-houses, and things that went when you wound them up, stood all about on the floor. And there were shelves of picture-books rising to the ceiling. Everything

looked quite new as if it had never been used, and it seemed like a toy shop where only the choicest, most expensive things were sold. Nichette looked and drew a long breath. She longed to stop and examine them, to touch them and make them go. But she thought of what she had come to do, and remembered the lonesome­ness of the lonesomest doll.

So she turned away to a tiny little door on the left,—a tiny little door that one would never find unless she knew just where to look, it seemed so like a panel in the wall. One, two, three, four, five,—yes, it was in the fifth panel, for there was the tiny keyhole to show that it was a door.