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closet a spicy retreat, rich in all the "goodies" that children love;
but Rose seemed to care little for these toothsome temptations;
and when that hope failed, Aunt Plenty gave up in despair.
Gentle Aunt Peace had tried all sorts of pretty needle-work, and
planned a doll's wardrobe that would have won the heart of even
an older child. But Rose took little interest in pink satin hats and
tiny hose, though she sewed dutifully till her aunt caught her
wiping tears away with the train of a wedding-dress, and that
discovery put an end to the sewing society.
Then both old ladies put their heads together and picked out the
model child of the neighbourhood to come and play with their
niece. But Ariadne Blish was the worst failure of all, for Rose
could not bear the sight of her, and said she was so like a wax doll
she longed to give her a pinch and see if she would squeak. So
prim little Ariadne was sent home, and the exhausted aunties left
Rose to her own devices for a day or two.
Bad weather and a cold kept her in-doors, and she spent most of
her time in the library where her father's books were stored. Here
she read a great deal, cried a little, and dreamed many of the
innocent bright dreams in which imaginative children find such
comfort and delight. This suited her better than anything else, but
it was not good for her, and she grew pale, heavy-eyed and listless,
though Aunt Plenty gave her iron enough to make a cooking-stove,
and Aunt Peace petted her like a poodle.
Seeing this, the poor aunties racked their brains for a new
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