The doll's necklace, bracelets, and watch and chain, riveted
Kitty's attention on the casket. Just as she thought of looking
round for her dear Syd, her father produced a new outburst of
delight by presenting a perambulator worthy of the doll. Her
uncle followed with a parasol, devoted to the preservation of the
doll's complexion when she went out for an airing. Then there
came a pause. Where was the generous grandmother's gift? Nobody
remembered it; Mrs. Presty herself discovered the inestimable
sixpenny picture-book cast away and forgotten on a distant
window-seat. "I have a great mind to keep this," she said to
Kitty, "till you are old enough to value it properly." In the
moment of her absence at the window, Linley's mother-in-law lost
the chance of seeing him whisper to Sydney. "Meet me in the
shrubbery in half an hour," he said. She stepped back from him,
startled by the proposal. When Mrs. Presty was in the middle of
the room again, Linley and the governess were no longer near each
other.

Having by this time recovered herself, Kitty got on her legs.
"Now," the spoiled child declared, addressing the company
present, "I'm going to play."

The doll was put into the perambulator, and was wheeled about the
room, while Mrs. Linley moved the chairs out of the way, and
Randal attended with the open parasol--under orders to "pretend
that the sun was shining." Once more the sixpenny picture-book
was neglected. Mrs. Presty picked it up from the floor,
determined by this time to hold it in reserve until her
ungrateful grandchild reached years of discretion. She put it in