Very deep in one box I found a stealthy little collection of secret
playthings which it used to be my fond belief that nobody knew of but
myself. It may have been Anna's graspingness, when four years of
seniority gave her double my age, or Arthur's genial instinct for
destructiveness, which drove me into such deep concealment of my dearest
idols. But, whether for those or more mystic reasons, I know I had dolls
which I nursed only in the strictest privacy and lavished my firmest
love upon. It was because of them that I bore the reproach of being but
a lukewarm mother of dolls and careless of their toilets; the truth
being that my motherly passion expended itself in secret on certain
outcasts of society whom others despised or had forgotten. They, on
their limp and dissolute bodies, wore all the finery I could find to
pile on them: and one shady transaction done on their behalf I remember
now without pangs. There was one creature of state whom an inconsiderate
relative had presented to Anna and myself in equal shares. Of course
Anna's became more and more lionlike. I had very little love for the
bone of contention myself, but the sense of injustice rankled in me. So
one day, at an unclothing, Anna discovered that certain undergarments
were gone altogether away. She sat aghast, questioned me, and, when I
refused to disgorge, screamed down vengeance from the authorities.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147