The two dolls who had spoken were almost exactly alike: they had round pink faces and round blue eyes; on either side of their cheeks hung beautiful golden curls—no wonder they laughed at the black mop on his dusky head. They really were the most elegant ladies. They wore frilled silk pelisses, with handsome ruffles at the neck; large silk hats, tied under their chins with bows, and enormous sashes. On their feet were openwork socks and bronze shoes with rosettes; their muffs we know all about. The only difference between them was that one was dressed in blue and the other in pink. Their mouths were like rosy buttons; to look at them, who could guess that such rude words had ever come out of them? (My grandmother always used to make that remark, for she had a good bringing-up and knew manners.) The third doll was not nearly so fine as her companions. To begin with, she had no muff, and her sash was tied round her waist, and not halfway down her skirt, which showed at once she was out of the fashions in the doll world. Her frock was plain and torn and she had lost one shoe; all the same, she had a dear little face. When she saw poor Master Bogey’s downcast looks, she got off her chair and went to him. “Don’t mind what they say,” she said. “They have just got new dresses and it makes them proud. They mean no harm. Your hair is very nice, and it is a great blessing to have so much.” You may fancy how grateful Master Bogey was! She held out her hand, and he took it. “Come,” she said, “let us go and sit at the other end of the room. You are a stranger, and I have heard nurse say that one should always be polite to strangers.” [Illustration: “SHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT.”] So they went, and the ladies in blue and pink cried out “Pooh!” very loud and both at the same time. “Take no notice,” whispered the doll. It was not long before she persuaded Master Bogey to confess his curiosity about the house and the people in it, and he began to enjoy himself immensely. He heard all about the pictures that had astonished him so much, and how the holly and yew branches had managed to get on to the frames, and about the Christmas party which was just over. He saw the rocking-horse, and even had a ride on it; the cupboard where nurse kept the jams for tea, and the door which led to the attics overhead. But the most delightful part of all was when he led his companion to the window and showed her the tree in which he lived standing black in the whiteness and the starlight. “You can’t see my parents, for they are asleep,” he remarked; “but I _think_ that round sort of bump where the branches fork is the back of my mother’s head. I wish you could see all of it.” “Does she know where you are?” asked the doll. “Well, no,” replied he, “she doesn’t; she had gone to bed when I left, and I really couldn’t wake her. But I’ll tell her everything in the morning, and all about you, and how charming you are.”