The Treasure Trunk

       "Well," called Jane as Mallory caught up with her half way down the orchard slope. "Now we are really going to have the fun in the attic, aren't we?"

       It seemed truly wonderful. They could hardly wait to open the big white door of the attic and run up the steep stairs to where the little trunk lay.

       But it was not as easy as they had thought it would be to force that lock. True, they had the hammer but even though the two worked hard at trying to break the nails that held the lock, it held fast. Moreover there was evidently a strong catch inside. The two hammered. They pried. They tugged and pulled. They worked for fully an hour and then sat down upon the floor to rest.

       "I hadn't any idea it would be so hard," declared Mallory. "The idea that we can't get into it or budge it!"

       "The idea," echoed Jane. She stopped for a moment and began to try to pry at the side of the trunk again. "It seems loose," she remarked. "I don't see why the catch won't break. Your mother wouldn't mind your breaking the lock, I hope. It's just such an old trunk nobody will ever want to use it again."

       "Oh, that's all right," declared Mallory. "Now, let me try," and she took the hammer and began again with a vim. Surely, the nails were getting much looser. Then very suddenly the lock gave way, the nails came out and there was the precious trunk all ready to be opened!

       "There," she exclaimed, triumphantly. "I did it!"

       Jane thoughtfully picked up the small brass nails that had fallen from the lock. She put them carefully aside. "Now," she agreed, "we'll see."

       The lid of the trunk opened now without any difficulty. The trunk was packed full of things. Over its top was spread some old-fashioned calico. It was a pattern of brown with tiny red buds in pink. They were enclosed in ovals of apple-green.

       The calico was tucked tight down over the things that were put away in the trunk. Mallory lifted it off and then gave a little cry of surprise for the very first thing that came out of the trunk was a queer old-fashioned dress that must have once belonged to a little girl long ago.

       "Look," she cried, "Oh, look! Isn't it funny, Jane? I do believe it will fit me. Oh, I think I'll try it on."

       The dress had a low neck and was made from coral-colored silk. It had strange little puffs of short sleeves and both neck and sleeves were edged with rows of narrow black velvet ribbon. The short waist was full and was let into a very full gathered skirt, trimmed at the bottom with similar rows of black velvet. It was a charming little dress.

       "But wait," urged Jane. "Wait a bit, Mallory. Maybe I'll find one too. What's next? Let's see."

       Mallory, remembering Mother's caution, laid the coral dress carefully aside where it was out of the dust. "I don't know what Mother would say to our opening this," she mused. "But if we put the things back, it will be all right, I think. The trunk must be one that got pushed out of place. It probably belongs with those very very old things over in that other corner. But it's open now! Let's see. We'll be careful."

       Next there were all manner of strange looking petticoats, very full, very embroidered. And pantalettes too, long legs with frills that would come away down around the ankles. Imagine wearing things like that and having to run about and play in them. They would tear in no time, even though they were made of stout muslin. Mallory held them up to herself. Then she looked down at her own bare knees below her short bloomers and laughed. "Suppose you had had to dress in things like this," she giggled. "Just think of it!"

       But Jane was already looking at other things. She examined a little roll of striped stockings and some small thin' soled slippers that were slightly worn. They had straps and tiny little black bows at the front. "Mallory, I do believe they'll fit," she exclaimed.

       "I'll dress up and run downstairs to show Mother," laughed Mallory. "I think they must have belonged to my Great-grandmother."

       "Look at the little hoop skirt," laughed Jane, lifting a strange contraption of hoops and tape. It fell in bell-shape. It had a band of tape at the top and a buckle that fastened to the side. "There are funny hard things next; boxes, I think. Shall we open them?"

       Mallory laid aside the hoop skirt with the other things and fell on her knees before the trunk again. "Yes, let's see!" she exclaimed. She lifted another covering that was a small old-fashioned quilt made of odd bits of patterned silks. Under it was a long linen sampler with a quaint pattern of roses about its border. It was done in cross-stitch. Inside this was a lettered alphabet very cunningly worked. Below it read:

       There followed a varied pattern of garden pinks and red roses. The date was given too, ever so long ago. This must be Great-grandmother's very own work, her very own little trunk containing all her own precious things that had been carefully kept all these years.

       But the next thing that Mallory lifted from the old trunk was not a box at all, as she had supposed. It was a very tiny trunk, a doll's trunk about ten inches long and six inches deep. It was made of black leather and trimmed with strips of tan. On this in rows were innumerable round brass-headed tacks, round and firm. There was a string tied at the front of the little trunk and to it was fastened an unusual looking large key.

       Mallory took the trunk in her lap and turned the key. Jane stood close beside her almost holding her breath. The lid came up without any trouble and, if you will believe it, inside there were tiny doll dresses! Strange little dresses made with full skirts like the coral-colored silk of the child to whom the larger trunk and the small doll trunk had evidently belonged.

       First there was a black silk. It had full sleeves trimmed with yellowed old lace; the lace about the neck was a little torn. Next there was a strange blue wool dress with tight bodice and full skirt. It fastened with old-fashioned hooks and eyes down the front.

       After that there was an embroidered coat with large pattern of red roses upon soft blue, and also a wrap-dress of calico made from brown and red patterned material. This doll's dress had a pocket on it's left side. This calico doll dress was trimmed with plain strips of bias banding around the round collar and the hem of the skirt. If only there were a doll to fit these darling old dresses! But Baby Edith could no more have worn them than Mallory could herself.

       That was all, no more - except a long straight white slip that was in all probability a doll's nightgown. Mallory sighed as she took it out. There was nothing else in the little trunk, nothing! Nor could a doll have been put into so small a toy trunk even if it had fitted these dresses. "I wish we'd find the doll," she said. "Oh, I just wish we would."

       Yet the next thing to come from the trunk was not a doll at all. It was a package of old covered magazines done up in another wrapping of calico. They were copies of Godey's Ladies' Book an old magazine that ladies once read. Mallory's Mother reads modern magazines like these called The Woman's Home Companion and The Ladies Home Journal.

       They were full of detailed pictures, steel engravings at the front and double columns of fine print with an occasional picture. At the back was an old colored fashioned plate with ladies in full hoop skirts and queer flowered bonnets, their hair dressed in short curls that fell to each side of their cheeks, and under the bonnets were clustered garlands of flowers close to the face.

       The little girls pictured with these handsome ladies were dressed much like their mothers; but skirts were shorter and there were the long white embroidered pantalettes coming from beneath, strange black slippered little feet and white stockings. The little girls wore flat wide-brimmed hats trimmed with looped ribbon streamers. The boys had long trousers and short jackets and wore small visored caps with tassels.

       For a long time, the two little girls turned the pages of the strange old magazines and wondered. People had dressed like that and they had not thought it odd. Whatever would those old-fashioned people have said to little girls nowadays in straight box dresses with full bloomers and socks?

       Mallory carefully gathered up the copies of the old Godey books and tied them together. "Now, let's go on," she resumed, taking a box from the old trunk.

       The box was carefully tied with tape. It was quite hard to free the knots. The box was heavy too. But when the last tape had been unknotted and the lid taken off, it contained packages wrapped in papers. Jane picked one out and unrolled it.

       Then she gave a delighted squeal for there was a little doll-dish, an old-fashioned fruit dish! It was white with a raised red pattern of flowers done in dull red. Mallory was unwrapping more - little plates, a meat dish, vegetable dishes. It was a doll's dinner set.

       The two little girls hardly spoke. They were so excited that there were no fitting words to utter. They cried,

       "Oh" and "Ah" as they set down one doll sized dish after the other till the attic floor near the corner of the old trunk was bright with the red of the toy dinner set.

       "They belonged to the little girl who had the doll trunk."

       "Perhaps we might find the doll. Oh, do you suppose so?"

       There was a long lumpy package still at the bottom of the old trunk. It looked like a roll of linen, tightly wound. It was quite long and felt hard as Mallory drew it out. It was pinned tightly. "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed. "I do believe, Jane..."

       "Is it the doll?" exclaimed Jane. "Oh, quick! Let's find out."

       When the roll of linen had been unpinned and unwound, there was the doll! She was large, about twenty-two inches long. She had a composition head and painted curls clustering about it, even black curls. Her hair was parted on either side of her high wide forehead. Her complexion was a soft pale pink.

       She had dark glass eyes set into her head under arching brows of black. Her lashes were painted dark. She had a little round nose, well modeled, and beneath it a rosebud mouth and dimpled chin. She looked very quaint and old-fashioned and not at all like the dolls little girls of today play with.

       The doll had a cloth body, long unbending arms that tapered down and were sewed at the ends to represent the hands. She had an hourglass waist and wore a plain cotton chemise, a pair of long pantalettes trimmed with an edge of hand-made lace, a full white petticoat with tucks and edging. She had white cotton stockings and strange black slippers that tied with ribbon laces. Her legs were jointed at the knees. They hung limp.

       "Just look at her,'' cried Mallory. ''Isn't she a darling! I shall ask Mother if I may not keep her to play with, and I shall have to find a name for her.''

       ''Mehitable," suggested Jane. ''That was my Great' grandmother's name."

       ''I don't know," mused Mallory. ''I dare say she is already named. If any little girl made all those dresses and kept her so beautifully and played with her, I think she must have had a name. I shall try to find out what her real name was. There. See? There are some old letters and things. Maybe it might just happen that we could find out what her name was, her real name long ago!"

       ''It must be strange to have been packed away so long and then to be suddenly wakened up and see two strange looking little girls instead of her own little girl mother," mused Jane. "How different everything must seem to her. That little girl to whom she belonged must have been very very careful of her."

       ''I dare say she was; she must have loved her."

       "She is lovable, isn't she?"

       "Yes, very! Cosy and comfortable. You feel you want to hold her and hug her."

       "But you must be polite. She looks prim."

       "I dare say she isn't really prim all the way through; there's fun in her."

       "Oh, yes."

       "What shall we do with her?"

       "I tell you what. We'll surprise Mother! We'll dress her, and then I'll dress up in the coral silk with all the fixings. And I'll run out of the back door without Mother's ever seeing me; and I'll run around to the front door while you watch. Then I'll ring the doorbell and we'll see what happens!"

       "And I'll dress the doll. What dress will she wear?"

       Mallory was already slipping her arms from the red gingham's armholes. "I want to see if I can really wear the things," she laughed. "The waist looks very tight; maybe I can squeeze myself. Oh, put the funny blue wool dress on, Jane. Oh, isn't this all much more fun than you ever imagined? Now, how do you suppose we ever found this very trunk that is just right for us? It might have been some old uninteresting trunk that did not have toys or little girl dresses in it at all!"

       She doubled up in a little heap as she looked at her ankles encased in their long trouser-like pantalettes of embroidery. "How very odd I feel," she declared. "Oh, my!" She considered the heap of clothes. "I suppose that hoop skirt ought to go on next," she declared. And she slid it over her head.

       "Put on the petticoat next," urged Jane. "I know it goes that way. Will it button?"

       Mallory fastened the tape of the hoop skirt with its buckle and slid through the opening of the full white petticoat. "Not quite," she said. "I'll need to pin it but that won't matter much. Now for the dress. Won't Mother be surprised! Whatever will I do with my hair? They never would wear it my way! You can see by the picture. Let's see if I can fix mine a little like it! Oh, Jane, do go down to my room and bring me up a wet hairbrush. Put water on it. I won't put the silk dress on till you come."

       Jane jumped to her feet. But the sight of Mallory arrayed in the white petticoat and long pantalettes hanging below was too much for her. She fairly shrieked in gales of laughter. "You do look such a sight!" she cried. "I just can't help laughing!"

       "Well, when you try it on, you'll look the same," replied Mallory, walking back and forth over the attic floor.

       Just wait till you try it and hurry with the hairbrush. It's getting near our lunch time. We've been up here this whole morning! How much time has passed?"

       "We've gone back in time I suppose, over eighty years ago," said Jane, turning at the head of the attic stair. "That was the date on the sampler, anyhow."

       "It might be even more."

       "Maybe!" Mallory went to one of the high backed chairs and sat primly erect with the doll upon her lap. "I hardly dare to move anymore," she said. "Come back quickly."

       In a few moments, Jane's steps were heard outside the latched door of the attic. She was back with a dripping hairbrush and proceeded to slick Mallory's hair straight off her forehead. With a band of quaint old ribbon Jane tied it all down tightly, passing the ribbon in front of Mallory's ears. Mallory surveyed herself in a bit of cracked mirror that hung from the attic beams. "You wouldn't know me, would you?" she asked. "I surely look just like those little girls in the Godey book. Now for the coral silk."

Mallory puts on the hoop skirt!

       Jane slipped it over Mallory's smoothed hair and fastened it behind while Mallory drew her breath in as much as she could and exclaimed over the snugness of the tight fit. "But I can stand it," she declared. "Where are those funny stockings?"

       The stockings went on as easily as had the other things. Cinderella herself could not have had less trouble fitting into her glass slipper! Mallory struggled to fit into the tight black slippers that had been worn long ago by Great-grandmother.

       She stood finally triumphant before the mirror, perfect in her old-fashioned quaintness, doll in her arms. "I'm not myself," she declared. "Oh, it feels so funny! Now, Jane, you go ahead and watch out. If there's anybody around, you whistle. And I'll run back. Watch out! Don't let anybody see me now." She stepped softly down the attic stair after Jane, who peered to right and left as she went and called from time to time, "Oh, come on. Come on," as Mallory lingered, hesitating in the doorway.

       The maids were in the kitchen. Nobody was about downstairs at all. The two managed to get outdoors without detection. Around the back of the big white house they ran and through the garden to the front doorway under its colonnade of great white pillars.

       "You hide behind the big box bush, Jane," whispered Mallory. "Watch!"

       Mallory ran up the short flight of steps that led to the big front door. She used the knocker and waited. Jane peeked from the side of the box bush, giggling.

       The two did not have long to wait for Vinci, their housemaid, to answer the door. It swung back. She gave a sudden cry of surprise.

       "Oh, oh, this is not little Miss Mallory, is it?" she said, looking at the small figure in pink coral silk and pantalettes who stood in the doorway.

       "Sure warned Mallory. I'm not myself at all. I'm somebody else. And please is Mrs. Deming in? I would like very much to see her." She walked into the parlor and sat down upon the old-fashioned sofa that was covered with old gold brocade.

       Vinci stared in amazement. Then she laughed and turned upstairs to look for Mallory's mother. She understood. Her face was as sober as could be. She wasn't going to give her away if Mallory wanted to play a joke.

       "Mrs. Deming will be down at once. Miss," she announced as she came back, but she went into the sitting' room and the door stayed open. Mallory waited. Mother did not come at once. Mallory wondered what Jane was doing and why she didn't go into the sitting room to watch the fun too.

       She was surprised, suddenly, to hear the doorbell ring again and, thinking it must be Jane who was playing her side of the joke, she stayed where she was. Again came Vinci. There was a voice in the hall.

       Before Mallory knew what was happening, into the parlor walked a lady very elegantly dressed in a tailor' made dress of gray cloth. She stared at the sight of Mallory sitting upon the gold brocade sofa with the doll in her arms "Why, why, why" she gasped, coming toward Mallory through the open doorway.

       But just at that moment Mallory's mother came downstairs and she too drew back in amazement.

       Mallory curtsied. "I have come from the Long Ago," she laughed. "And this is my doll."

       "The very image of her Great-grandmother's portrait," declared the lady.

       Mother laughed. "I suppose you found them all in the attic," said Mother. "You certainly did surprise us, Mallory. But dear, you had better not run about anymore like that for those are very delicate old things and you might hurt them. Did you find that doll in the attic too? Oh, isn't she a love of an old doll!"

       Both Mother and the guest admired Mallory and the doll tremendously. They wanted to know all about everything that had been happening in the attic that morning. They were tremendously interested. Someday the guest wanted to see all the dinner-set, the trunk, the old dresses in the toy trunk, and the magazines. Her name was Miss Weed. She had come to have lunch with Mother.

       By the time Mallory found Jane, she had become quite used to walking about in the queer hoop skirt that had at first been so hard to manage. The hoops went right up straight in front when she tried to sit on a chair! She carefully removed the old clothes and replaced them with her own in the attic.

       The doll, meanwhile, lay in her wooden cradle in the corner of the girl's attic playhouse. It was almost lunch time and Jane had been invited to eat with Mallory's family. The two girls neatly folded and wrapped the old things while putting them back into the trunk, just as Malloy's Mother had insisted.

       "I wish we could keep her to play with," sighed Mallory, again in her short dress, socks and tan sandals. I'm going to ask Mother to let me have her for keeps. I like her better than any doll I've ever had. She's real. I'd like to play with her! And, besides that, my toy-box is lost and I have no dolls at all now! I ought to have her, for I know she wants somebody to love her and show her all the new things that have happened since she fell asleep in the old trunk and it was locked up and left long ago."

       "There'd be lots of new things for her to see," suggested Jane.

       With a backward glance at the closed lid of the old trunk, arm in arm, the two little girls went down the attic staircase. It had been a wonderful morning. They enjoyed pretending to live in the past, dressing as the children did from the Godey magazine!

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