When the Children Came

       Οne day the mice came to her in great excitement. Some children were coming to the house to stay; they had heard all about it from behind the sitting-room wainscot. The old nursery was being prepared, fresh curtains had been hung at the windows, and the house wife had baked apple pie and a whole lot of ginger cookies the mice could smell them in the oven. 

       Now the little wooden doll was filled with joy. "At last," she said, "someone is coming to play with me." She did her best to rub off the dust that had settled down on her in all these years, for she wanted to look nice and tidy when the children came. Most of it she could manage herself, but where she could not quite reach she asked the mice to help her, and they gladly brushed it off with their paws. The mice were nearly as excited as she was, for they had never seen any real children; they only knew what they were like from the stories the little wooden doll had told them. 

       Every few minutes they came running with news. "They have yellow hair, just as you said!" 

       "One of them is always jumping about!" 

       "They make a big noise with their mouths!" 

       And the little doll nodded her head with excitement, and cried, "Yes, yes! Those are surely children!" 

       Only the big spider in the corner said, "What is all this fuss about? I can't stand children. They are hateful things!" 

       The little doll knew better. 

       All that day she waited, tidied up in her corner, and the next day, and the next. It almost seemed as if the children would never find their way to the attic. Then one afternoon it rained; a shower fell and the big drops beat on the shingles. "Now they will surely come," thought the little doll, for she remembered that children love to play in the attic on wet afternoons. 

       And presently, up the old attic stairs, she heard them . . . creak . . .  creak . . . 

       The little doll was so excited that she wanted to call out and tell them she was there. She sat very still in her corner and waited, while all the little mice ran to their holes and peeped out. It was a terrible moment; perhaps they wouldn't find her at all. She heard whispers, footsteps here and there on the attic floor, stirring the dust. At last they came to the corner where she was sitting. A hand was stretched out, one of the children seized her firmly, and she was held up to the light.

       A voice cried, "Why, look at this funny old thing! It must be some sort of a doll!" And the little sister exclaimed, "Oh, look at it! Fancy any one playing with that!"

       They turned the little doll about in their hands. 

       "All the paint's rubbed off. Isn't it an ugly old thing!" 

       The little sister cried out, "Why, it hasn't even got any clothes!" And they both began to laugh. 

       The poor little doll felt terribly ashamed. She had never thought about clothes. A great lump came in her throat, and she felt that she was going to burst into tears. 

       She had been so happy, and now everything was turning out wrong. 

"Let's play shipwreck with the doll and drown her like a sailor!"

       The little boy held her up between his thumb and finger. "I know what let's do," he said. "Let's have a shipwreck on the pond, and the doll can be the drowned sailor!"

       But the little sister said, "No, that isn't any fun. I don't want to play that. Let's play something nice." 

       "But shipwreck is nice!" 

       "No, I don't want to," said the little sister. 

       "And I don't want to play with that old thing, anyway!" 

       While they were still quarreling, the supper bell rang downstairs. The boy, who had been standing near the attic window, dropped the doll on the window ledge, and they both ran away.

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