"
And I went and put it on Tabby, and Hildegarde saw me do it;
But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind, I don't believe she knew it!"
But I know that she knew it now, and I just believe, I do,
That her poor little heart was broken, and so her head broke too.
Oh, my baby! my little baby! I wish my head had been hit!
For I've hit it over and over, and it hasn't cracked a bit.
But since the darling _is_ dead, she'll want to be buried of course;
We will take my little wagon, Nurse, and you shall be the horse;
And I'll walk behind and cry; and we'll put her in this--you see,
This dear little box--and we'll bury them under the maple tree.
And papa will make a tombstone, like the one he made for my bird;
And he'll put what I tell him on it--yes, every single word!
I shall say: "Here lies Hildegarde, a beautiful doll who is dead;
She died of a broken heart, and a dreadful crack in her head."
_St. Nicholas._
* * * * *
AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT.
How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick and I stepped in to cheer
you up a little.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180