"Oh, let me have un!"
Mrs. Gray took it down and handed it to her, and she hugged it to her
in an ecstasy of delight. Then she held it off and looked at it, and
hugged again, and for very joy she wept. It was only a poor little rag
doll with face and hair grotesquely painted upon the cloth, and
dressed in printed calico--but it was a doll--a _real_ one--the first
that Emily had ever owned. It had been the dream of her life that some
day she might have one, and now the dream was a blessed reality. Her
happiness was quite beyond expression as she lay there on her bed that
Christmas morning pressing the doll to her breast and crying. Poverty
has its seasons of recompense that more than counterbalance all the
pleasures that wealth can buy, and this was one of those seasons for
the family of Richard Gray.
Presently Emily stopped crying, and through the tears came laughter,
and she held the toy out for her father and mother to take and examine
and admire.
A little later Mrs. Gray came from the closet holding a mysterious
package in her hand.
"Now what be _this_? 'Twere in th' closet an' looks like somethin'
more Santa Claus were leavin'."
"Well now!" exclaimed Richard, "what may _that_ be? Open un an' we'll
see."
An investigation of its contents revealed a couple of pounds of sugar,
some currants, raisins and a small can of butter.
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