"How many
red ones you will have, Jasper--see--fifteen; well, they're prettier
than the others."
"Ef little Miss had come wid you," said Candace, emerging from the folds
of a chintz curtain that divided the shop from the bedroom, "she'd 'a'
seen my doll I made for her. Land! but it's a beauty."
"Oh, Candace!" exclaimed Polly, dropping the big pin she held, and
allowing it to roll off the counter to the floor. "What a pity we didn't
bring her! Do let us see the doll."
"She's a perfec' beauty!" repeated Candace in satisfaction, "an' I done
made her all myself fer de little Miss," and she dodged behind the
curtain again, this time bringing out a large rag doll with surprising
black bead eyes, a generous crop of wool on its head, and a red worsted
mouth.
"Dat's my own hair," said Candace, pointing to the doll's head with
pride, "so I know it's good; an' ain't dat mouf pretty?"
"Oh, Candace!" exclaimed Polly, seizing the doll, and skillfully evading
the question, "what a lovely dress--and the apron is a dear"--
"Ain't it?" said Candace, her black face aglow with delight. "Ole Miss
gimme dat yeller satin long ago, w'en I belonged to her befo' de war.
An' dat yere apun was a piece of ole Miss's night-cap.
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