"Her name is Rose," she said, and with a broad ribbon she deftly made a cap and put it on the doll's head.

After a while Rose was put to sleep again--the bright little mummy of a child's affection, Henry called her--and the playmates became older.

She told him of the many suitors that had sought to woo her; of rich men; of poor young fellows who strove to keep time to the quick-changing tune of fashion; of moon-impressed youths who measured their impatient yearning.
"And when are you going to let one of them take you away ?" Henry asked.

Holding his hand, she had led him in front of a mirror.
"Oh, not at all," she answered, smiling at herself and then at him.

"I haven't fallen in love with anybody yet." "And is that necessary ?" "Why, you know it is, goose.