A pretty brown and white dove was walking up the steep roof of Dr. Gray's house just as the door-bell rang. Perhaps she heard the bell, for she stopped and pecked her wings, then flew down to the ground, and looked up to see who was there.

It was Kittyleen. Kittyleen was a snip of a girl, three years old, whose long name was Katharine Garland. She looked like the dove, for she was brown and white all over: brown eyes and hair, brown cloak, white fur cap, and white tippet.

Her young nurse, Martha, had come with her, but there is not much to say here concerning Martha, except that she had the toothache. She did not intend to enter the house; she had only come to escort Kittyleen.

"I want to wing the bell myse'f," said Miss Kittyleen, standing on tiptoe, and bursting a button off one of her brown boots. But she could not reach the bell.

Just then the doctor's daughter, Mary Gray, opened the door, and seeing Kittyleen, threw both arms around her, exclaiming,—

"Oh, you darling, I'm so glad you've come!"

"Well, I'm afraid you'll be sorry enough by and by," said Martha, with a one-sided smile, that made her look like a squirrel with a nut in his cheek. "She's full of mischief, Kittyleen is, and her ma's painting china, and wanted her out of the way. But if she's too much trouble, her ma wants you to send her right home."

"Oh, she won't trouble anybody. She and little Ethel will have a beautiful time together," said Mary, untying the child's white tippet.

Mary Gray, or Flaxie Frizzle, as people persisted in calling her sometimes, was nine years old, and had for some time felt a great care of Kittyleen. Everybody felt the care of Mrs. Garland's children. There were six of them, and their mother was always painting china. She did it beautifully, with graceful vines trailing over it, and golden butterflies ready to alight on sprays of lovely flowers. Sometimes the neighbors thought it would be a fine thing if she would keep her little ones at home rather more; but if she had done that she could not have painted china.

Flaxie took off Kittyleen's fur cap, and patted it softly, as she hung it on the hat-tree.

"That's my white pussy," remarked Kittyleen, eying it lovingly. "But it don't hurt; it hasn't any feet."

"Well, good-by, pet, don't get into mischief," said Martha, making another wry face as she tried to smile. And then, without one word to Flaxie as to the length of Kittyleen's visit, she hurried home to put a poultice on her face and help about the ironing; for, as she said to herself, "The work was only fun, now the three youngest children were out of the way."

Flaxie led Kittyleen into the back parlor to show her to the family. Little Ethel did not look particularly pleased, for she remembered that the baby-guest was very fond of sweetmeats, and sometimes snatched more than her share. Mrs. Gray was embroidering a table-cover as a birthday present for Aunt Jane Abbott, and was feeling very much hurried; but she smiled and said to Flaxie, as she kissed the wee visitor,—

"So your little pet has come again? Well, we will do all we can to make her happy; but you know Julia and I are both busy over these presents, and you must take the chief care of Kittyleen yourself."

"Yes'm, you know I always do," replied Flaxie; "and she behaves better with me than she does with her mother."

Nobody thought of Kittyleen's staying any longer than to dinner and supper; but there was never any certainty about the Garland children's visits, especially when it began to storm. It began now at eleven o'clock, and snowed all day without ceasing; and then the wind rose, and blew the flakes east and west and north and south, till the men in the streets could hardly keep their hats on their heads, much less hold an umbrella.

Of course Kittyleen couldn't go home that night, for she lived on Prospect Street, half a mile away. Preston Gray said with a sarcastic smile that "it was a comfort to know that her mother would be easy about her."

But Kittyleen made a grieved lip. The sun had set, there were no stars in the sky, and the windows looked black and dismal. She parted the curtains and peeped out.

"All dark out there," said she, sadly. "Did God forget about the moon? I are goin' to cry! Yes, Flaxie, I are; I want to see my mamma, and I are goin' to cry."

Two tiny tears gathered in the dove-like brown eyes, ready to fall. Dr. Gray rose from his chair and paced the floor. He never could bear to see a little girl cry.

"I wonder," said he,—"I do wonder where Mary keeps that beautiful big wax doll!"

"O papa!" said Flaxie, clasping her hands, "don't, papa!"

"The wax doll is in my cabinet," replied Mrs. Gray, not regarding her daughter's distress; "and if Kittyleen won't cry she shall see it to-morrow."

"O mamma, please don't," repeated Flaxie.

But Kittyleen was happy from that moment. She wanted to stay now. She liked Flaxie's chamber, with its fine pictures and soft carpet, and the silk quilt upon the bed. She liked Flaxie's "nightie," with its pretty edging, and laughed because it had a "long end to it," long enough to wrap up her little pink toes.

Ethel, who was still younger than Kittyleen, had gone to bed long ago; but Kittyleen was too full of frolic, and when she went at last she would not lie still, but kept springing up and turning somersets all over the bed, lisping, as she caught her breath, "See dolly in the mornin'! Me velly much obliged!"

"There, there, hush, Kittyleen," said Flaxie, crossly, "I want to go to sleep."

"Wish I had dolly here now; want to luf her this way," continued the little prattler, smoothing Flaxie's cheek with her tiny hand.

"No, no, you mustn't love my doll in that way; it isn't the way to love dolls. You mustn't touch her at all; you mustn't go anywhere near her, Kittyleen Garland," exclaimed Flaxie, growing alarmed.

She had more treasures of value, perhaps, than any other little girl in Rosewood, and was always afraid of their being injured. Indeed, she was too anxiously careful of some of them, and it was partly for this reason that her mother had promised to show Kittyleen the wax doll. Of all Flaxie's possessions this was the very chief, and she loved the pretty image with as much of a mother's love as a little girl is able to feel, always calling her "my only child" in forgetfulness of all her other dolls, black, white, and gray. The "Princess Aurora Arozarena," as she was called, was as large as a live baby six months old. Flaxie had owned her for two years, keeping her mostly in close confinement in her mother's cabinet, and never allowing little sister Ethel anything more than a tantalizing glimpse of her majesty's lustrous robes. This august being was dressed in fine silk, with gloves and sash to match, and always when she mounted the throne, and sometimes when she didn't, she wore a crown upon her regal head. Her throne, I may add, was a round cricket, dotted with brass nails. You will see at once that it would be no light trial to have this adorable doll breathed upon by such a little gypsy as Kittyleen.

"O mamma," pleaded Flaxie next morning, "please hold her tight when you show"—and then, as Kittyleen skipped into the room she added, "Hold the w-a-x d-o-l-l tight when you show it!"

"I heard," said Kittyleen. "Diddle o-k-p-g! I heard!"

Mrs. Gray and Flaxie both laughed; but the terrible child added, dancing up and down, "See dolly now! me velly much obliged!" "Me velly much obliged" was her way of saying "if you please," and Flaxie often remarked upon it as "very cunning"; but she saw nothing cunning in it now, and frowned severely as Mrs. Gray led the way up-stairs to her own chamber, unlocked the cabinet, and took out the much-desired, crowned, and glittering Aurora Arozarena.

"Kittyleen may look at it, but she is not to touch it. Ethel never has touched it. And when you hear the breakfast bell, Mary, you may put the doll back in the cabinet, and that will be the last of it; so try not to look so wretched."

"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Kittyleen, too full of delight to do anything but scream. "Open eyes! shut eyes! Oh! oh! oh!"

She did not offer to touch the shining lady; and this grand exhibition would have been the last of it if Flaxie had not somehow, in her anxiety and haste, forgotten to turn the key on the royal prisoner when she put her back in the cabinet.

The storm was not over. The snow turned to rain and poured continually. Mrs. Garland had nearly time to paint a whole set of china; for of course Kittyleen could not go home that day.

In the afternoon the child, having quarrelled with little Ethel, strayed alone into Mrs. Gray's chamber. There on the great bracket against the wall stood that wonderful inlaid cabinet, pretty enough in itself to be gazed at and examined by curious little folks, even if there had been nothing inside. Kittyleen knew, however, that it contained the doll—Flaxie's doll—that was too sacred for little girls to touch. She could not have told afterwards why she did it, but she climbed on a chair and pulled at one of the doors of the cabinet. She certainly did not expect it would open, but to her intense delight it did open, and there in plain sight on a shelf lay the beautiful princess, fast asleep.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Kittyleen in a perfect tremor of joy.

The princess lay there and smiled. You could almost see her breathe.

"Mustn't touch!" whispered Kittyleen to her meddling fingers.

Touch? Oh, no indeed!

But she swayed to and fro upon the chair and gazed. And evermore as she gazed, the longing grew upon her to know how much of Princess Arozarena was wax and how much was living flesh and blood. Had she teeth? a tongue? were there two holes in that pretty nose?

"I've got a nose, dolly, you've got a nose; everybody in this house has got a nose, two holes—way—in."

Here she picked a pin out of her collar and flourished it over those waxen nostrils. If they were hollow—

Oh, she wasn't going to hurt dolly! Not for anyfing in this world! But would the pin go in? That was all she wanted to know; and she never would know till she tried. "Why, it went in just as easy!" Such a tender, soft dolly!

Kittyleen admired her more than ever. "Some dollies are so hard!"

But why did this one lie with her eyes closed? She had slept long enough. "I fink her eyes are booful. Wake up, dolly." That was what Flaxie had said in the morning, and dolly had opened her bright eyes very wide. But she wouldn't open them now for Kittyleen. Kittyleen blew upon them; the lids would not stir.

"I fink it's funny! I fink it's velly funny," said baby, her breath coming short and fast. What was the way to get them open? They must be in there just the same. Yes, they must be in there; but where?

She wouldn't hurt those dear eyes, oh, not for anyfing! But the longer they hid away from her the more she wanted to see them. What were they made of?

There was one way to get at the secret of their wondrous beauty. She could explore a little with the pin. Dolly wasn't alive; pins wouldn't hurt.

Gently! gently! Oh, yes, Kittyleen meant to be very gentle! But somehow that was a bad old pin! What made it bend right up? What did make it dig so and scratch?

I grieve to tell the rest. Princess Arozarena had been beautiful, but when she lost one eye she was horrid. Kittyleen caught her up in remorse, and the other eye flew open. Kittyleen screamed in fright. It seemed as if the doll was alive, as if that eye was looking right at her.

It was too much to bear. Trembling, she opened the closet door, and threw the poor, scratched, miserable doll, with her one blazing eye, head-first into the clothes-bag.