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f the kitchen and housekeeper’s room; generally bearing the candle along with her。 I then sat with my doll on my knee till the fire got low; glancing round occasionally to make sure that nothing worse than myself haunted the shadowy room; and when the embers sank to a dull red; I undressed hastily; tugging at knots and strings as I best might; and sought shelter from cold and darkness in my crib。 To this crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something; and; in the dearth of worthier objects of affection; I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image; shabby as a miniature scarecrow。 It puzzles me now to remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy; half fancying it alive and capable of sensation。 I could not sleep unless it was folded in my night…gown; and when it lay there safe and warm; I was paratively happy; believing it to be happy likewise。
Long did the hours seem while I waited the departure of the pany; and listened for the sound of Bessie’s step on the stairs: sometimes she would e up in the interval to seek her thimble or her scissors; or perhaps to bring me something by way of supper—a bun or a cheese…cake—then she would sit on the bed while I ate it; and when I had finished; she would tuck the clothes round me; and twice she kissed me; and said; “Good night; Miss Jane。” When thus gentle; Bessie seemed to me the best; prettiest; kindest being in the world; and I wished most intensely that she