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I found this letter among some others, scrolled up and tied with purple ribbon, in a chest belonging to my great grandfather. The name Charles has belonged to several in our family line, but I believe I know the one who received and saved this letter, and kept it preserved for so many years. I believe the letter speaks for itself, so I will now offer it up to you. Dearest Charles: I hope this missive finds you in such good health and bright humour as I know you cherish for me. I do well enough here; my companions, although frequently lethargic, are well bred and congenial in all points. We all miss the comforting balm of regular human companionship, for, other than the staff and one another, we have none at all. Yet I fancy in my conceit that my longing for you exceeds that of any longings indulged by my fellows as we reside here in splendid isolation. You have said that you entertain hopes of my eventual recovery; this speaks well of your kind spirit, my friend, but we both know the doctors share not in your optimism. Your letters warm me inside and out, which is well since I so often feel a chill. It may be the bracing sea air of the Atlantic here in the Maritime Provinces, but I fear it is merely a symptom of my dread condition. Although they often roll us out in our chairs to "take the airs," we are thoroughly bundled up with coats and lap robes and muffs and all, yet each of us feels the chill, more perhaps within ourselves than through any external infuence. Have you seen the old place? How dear it was to me. It was there you would read to me, in my private walled garden, my sanctum sanctorum. I feared to kiss you; you above all others should best know why. Yet I suffered you to hold and comfort me, and the joys of that intimacy I shall ever keep in memory. I hope the new owners are kind to the place. I hope they feed the birds, and water the roses, and oh I hope they do not disturb the resting place of poor Dot. You laughed at my sentiment, when during one of your visits you caught me laying a wreath of my precious blooms on her grave, but you endured my folly then and eventually came to share my sentiments for the poor creature. For, as you know, there once was a lovely porcelain bisque doll in that house, a doll just the size of her owner, and they shared their days and their isolation. The girl was Dorothea, and the doll was (using Nurse's pet name for the child as well) Dot. And it is to that point I wish to speak now. You say you wish to hold yourself apart from society, especially the society of young ladies, in hopes of our eventual reunion. You are very dear to me. You have already given up, for many years now, the rounds of soirees and entertainments most suitable to young men of your age and station, out of consideration for me, since I could not enjoy them with you. It is because of your wish that I feel moved now to share a story with you, a story as private as the walled garden which you erstwhile graced with your presence, and where I spent so many hours, and years. The story is of Dorothea and Dot, and one other. Dorothea was a happy child, one who loved to go to the parish cakes and ales, and the local fairs, and to be given pony chaise rides, and go punting on the waterways of our district. She loved the open air, and the sweet breezes, and of course the many gardens. But into those bright colourful days a dark cloud intruded, a festering spot that blotted out the sun and never after departed. Dorothea fell ill. She coughed, and red spots appeared on her handkerchief. The doctors sighed and shook their heads; "Consumption" was all they said. Gone then were the fairs, the cakes and ales, the boats, the open air. In their place dark walls reared their heads. The girl must be isolated, as much for the sake of others as for her own. The place prepared was fine enough in its way. The house itself was private, set apart from other habitation by extensive grounds. The girl had fine rooms, and Nurse could not have been any better, she was a treasure. She saw Father and Mother once a day, after dinner, which was the custom in most homes at that time. They did not reject her, it was simply thought that children were not fit company for adults. Mother also saw to it that even though no more friends came to call, out of fear of the dread disease, there should still be one companion, a lovely girl with blue eyes and auburn hair, identical to Dorothea. She sent to Germany, where the finest porcelain dolls were made. This doll was not to have the translucent skin of the porcelain dolls, but the more porous texture of bisque, so similar to human skin in appearance, and even to the touch. Her head was crowned with billows of lustrous human hair, an elaborate wig. Real hair formed the lashes of her eyes, and the gracefully arched brows above them. Her delicate mouth seemed about to part its pink lips and speak. She was Dot. Dot could sit her stuffed cloth body at table with Dorothea and the two could share tea together. She could stand, if suitably propped up against the furniture. The two could be twins. If Dorothea wore her pinafore one day, then Dot would wear her own, its identical twin. If Dorothea preferred the silk blouse with green piping, Dot would echo her. At eventide the two would retire in nightgowns of the same fashion; there was not a hair's difference between the one and the other. There can be no doubt that Dorothea loved Dot with all the affection a loving child can lavish upon her only companion. It was sad that Dot could never by word or gesture return such loving attention. Other than Nurse and Dot, Dorothea's only companion was Doctor. He was most gentle with her, and never behaved toward her as if he in any way feared contagion. "I have been with too many of the ill to possess any fears," he told her. "It may be that Providence has endowed me with the ability to resist some if not all of these conditions." He encouraged her to eat, since she had become thin and frail, He discovered her favorite treats, and arranged that they be given her on a regular basis. She tried to oblige him by enjoying them but her appetite often would not cooperate. Dorothea and Dot loved to sit on a bench in the walled garden and watch the birds come and go. Sometimes the girl would toss breadcrumbs for them, while Dot would watch. One day they were amusing themselves in this way, when the oddest thing happened! The bushes at the bottom of one section of the wall began to wiggle, and some dirt flew about, and then a grubby hand appeared, as if a human hand were crawling out of a rabbit hole! The hand was followed by an arm, and then the grubbiest of all possible faces, a face in which dirt seemed to have been applied over other dirt, as the mason will trowel mortar upon the stones. A mouth opened within the face. "Hullo," it said. "Don't be alarmed, I'm not a robber or any such person. I just saw a rabbit pop out of the other side of this wall, and thought it might be fun to investigate, and the hole was larger than I expected so I kept digging, and...here I am!" Dorothea, poor dear, was in a dreadful dilemma. What she had longed for more than anything in her isolation was the joy of human company. Yet she was quite aware that simply by being near her this soiled creature could become fatally ill. "Pleased to meet you I'm sure," she said politely. "But I've got consumption, you know." "Aw, worse luck then," the mouth declared. "My mum had that, and died of it, and her mum too, and she died of it too. But I never did die yet for all that. So maybe I won't die from you either. Say, are those biscuits you two are having?" The voice sounded hungry, even famished. "We two?" The girl looked around, and then laughed. "Oh you mean Dot! Although she is my friend, I fear she seldom enjoys my food. But since I do have enough for two, won't you join me?" "Ah, I'm a bit out of form at the moment miss, you see, I could use a bathe, if you have a basin handy...?" "Hmm," she mused. And then, "Would you mind sharing your bathe with the birds? Otherwise I am afraid that the only basin is my own and it perhaps would be injurious to you despite your confidence in your healthiness." So saying, she walked over to the bird bath, which was filled with fresh water. She walked to her rooms and came back with a cloth and placed it there in the water. The creature from the rabbit hole expressed gratitude and began washing face and hands as thoroughly as might be. Eventually human features were revealed, sufficient for purposes of identification. "Why, you're a boy!" she exclaimed. He bowed. "So's half the world, miss. It should be no great shock." She laughed, quietly, then coughed but invited him to share the bench and the biscuits. For as hungry as he seemed, the boy ate with impeccable manners, and after he had found and consumed the very last crumb, he thanked her most politely. "I am no longer permitted to go beyond these walls," she confessed, "and I would dearly love to know what goes on out there in that world. Can you tell me? How is life for those who are not confined as I am?" He looked at her soberly. "There may be more than one form of confinement, miss. Although I can roam freely, I am confined by the walls of want and deprivation. But what my words can show you, I will tell." He identified himself as Dick. His father had been a porter and his mother a seamstress. They had their own apartments in the mews, filled with cats and dogs running about, and the rough sort of lads who are always being chased out of one shop after another. He told her of the parish church, and its quiet churchyard and the moss on the trees; of the poor kindly old vicar with his elbows worn out; of the greengrocer who would pretend to drop an apple and leave it there just for Tom to pick up; of the merchant who always had candle stubs in his trash which were still large enough to burn; of rolling hoops down the bumpy alleyways; of playing at cards with his parents by the light of those candle stubs. Tom's family had coal enough for their little stove, and tea enough for the kettle, and bacon enough to make you wish for a bit more. They had each other, and were content. But then his father, who carried heavy weights for a living as a porter would, of course, had the misfortune to miss his footing coming down a narrow lane in the rain. He fell over a low wall, and broke his neck. The buried him among the pauper's graves behind the churchyard proper. After that things were desperate. Tom was young as could be, but he ran errands for whatever coins people were willing to give. He ran alongside the railraod track and picked up loose lumps of coal for their stove. He rummaged in the ash bins and refuse piles of the back alleys for whatever was not too spoiled to be used, whether for food or clothing or any other purpose. For one year, including an especially brutal winter, he helped his mother keep house and keep themselves alive. Then she began to cough, and spit up blood. She knew the signs; consumption had killed her mother. "Dick, I love you," she said one day. "In a sock under the tick on my bed is some money. Get me some brandy with it will you? And keep the rest for yourself, for you will be needing it." Tom cried. They had not even spent this last little nest egg to bury his dad; he knew by this sign that the end was near. His mom had been getting thinner, and could not take much brandy at one time, but she did sip away at it, and it seemed to comfort her. When the brandy had finally been used up, so was she. "I remember, it was Ascension Sunday" the boy related. "The vicar used to read to me, and I learned a lot about books and language from him, although the nice ladies of the parish scathed him for it. He said that this was the Sunday when Jesus was taken up into heaven, and he was sure that the same had happened to my mum, and she was up there right then with the Lord." He sniffled a little at the thought. "Without mum's work there was no way I could afford any rent at all, so I had to sell off all our goods exept for what I could carry slung over my back. I learned to make friends of a sort here and there, and eat whatever did not make me sick, and I still worked as honestly as I could and lied when people asked me about my parents, and I made shelter in sheds and under carts and wherever. I did steal some things. I am not proud of it; I just wanted to live. I stole our old coal stove, which belonged to the landlady. Eventually I found a house near the mews that had been abandoned after a fire; it still had three walls and part of the roof. I hid there with my stove, concealing its smoke as much as I could, and never lit a candle or made any light. I propped up a rusty old bed against one corner and draped carpet over it and filled the space in there with rags; it was warm enough even in bad weather, just so I did not catch anything on fire with my stove." The poor boy! Dorothea's eyes brimmed with tears. She had thought her lot a hard one, yet she had never lacked for anything other than strength and companionship. "That was two winters ago," Dick went on. "I made my living by my wits. I had many close scrapes but survived each one. Finally whoever held title to that burned house decided to have it rased, and I had no word of it and had to clear out with nothing but the clothes on my back. So I was looking for new digs, and when I saw the rabbit I figured maybe a place that lets rabbits dig under the walls might be abandoned and I could make my home here." He shrugged. Dorothea looked at him and brooded for a moment. "Are you feeling sick?" she asked. "Not at all. I suppose if I haven't died yet after all I've gone through, I'm not likely to die soon." She nodded thoughtfully. "Nobody ever comes to see me, for fear of catching my illness" she stated. "I am as lonely as can be. You need a place to stay. Maybe we can hide you here somewhere? If you start to cough or anything you can go straight away. What do you say?" The boy knew from experience that by the time you start to cough it is likely already too late, but he was desperate and besides, he trusted his luck. "Deal," he declared. "I swear it on my mum's grave, I'll never complain or give any trouble, and whatever you command I shall obey." She gave a slight smile. "Like my noble knight!" she replied. "Very well, let us see what hiding places my rooms offer." She led the way and he, obedient as promised, followed. But when they camed to the French doors which led in to her quarters, the boy hesitated. "Everything in here is so fine," he whispered. "Whatever I touch will become soiled. Not only will I spoil your place, but anyone who enters will know some dirty creature has been there. That, of course, would have to mean a stranger." He hung his head. But the girl said "Very well, just for now we will hide you in the potting shed. We do not have a full time gardener, just occasionally a special hire. While you are there, we can use water from the rainbarrel to give you a proper wash-up. And, would you please call me Dot?" "Righty-o! And who is your friend?" "She's really Dot but can you please call her Dorothea? My real name is so stuffy sounding, and I love the way Nurse calls me Dot, it feels so friendly." So from that day the names were changed, as far as the three of them were concerned. Dick remained Dick, but Dot was now Dorothea and Dorothea was Dot. That evening at twilight she crept out to the shed with food and tea. Tom said his thank-yous very nicely but devoured his provisions like a wolf. Dot noticed that his clothes were hanging loosely from his frame. If they once had fit him, he must have lost considerable weight from his hard life in the back alleys. She had also brought an extra blanket and pillow. He rubbed his face in the pillow and smiled. "I haven't had a real pillow in ever so long," he murmured. Dot just beamed. Surely there could be nothing wrong with helping out this stray child; she felt so benevolent. Next morning when Nurse came to bathe her and remove last night's dishes, she exclaimed "Heavens! I haven't seen you eat so well in years! Are you feeling better, my dear?" And Dot smiled at her but said nothing, keeping her thoughts to herself. Nurse, encouraged by this apparent change, brought bread and butter and marmalade, and tea with cream and sugar. Dot made a good show of enjoying it as best she could, but as soon as she was alone she slipped out again to the shed to share her treats. "I'll bet you might think a lad like me has never had marmalade, but you'd be wrong!" Dick exclaimed with his mouth full. "Three years ago Christmas, I had some at the vicarage. Good? Wasn't it just, though!" And they both smiled broadly, but perhaps for different reasons. After that, Dick would spend his days in the shed, and in the gloaming Dot would appear with food and they would visit. She and he both napped at midday in order to save more time for their nightly chats. In that mild time of year their hours of safety, when they would not likely be discovered, were limited, but they cherished them all the more. While they could still make out objects in the dimming light, they would arrange a little garden near the shed, with flowers and other growing things transplanted there freom other parts of the garden. They made a village of sticks and stones, with moss for grassy lawns, and pine sprigs for trees. They enacted dramas in their little village. They dug a little pool in the centre to be a lake, and filled it with water from the birdbath. They made boats of leaves, and Dot would imagine she was punting once more. Dorothea accompanied them at their playtimes, but remained a silent spectator. Mother and Father were delighted. Their child was exhibiting new signs of appetite, and surely there was a new spring in her step and a new light in her eyes. True, she had not filled out yet, but were there not signs of hope? Then the evening lengthened and became chill. For a short while the children were delighted, since this meant more time for their evening play together. Soon however not even an extra blanket for the boy could ward off the cold. They took thought to other arrangements to see them through the oncoming winter. Dick had by now been thoroughly washed of his original grime. He had put the birdbath to good use, and caught occasional rainwater in a bucket from his shed as well, so that he resembled any properly bred child. His clothing had been filthy and there was no discrete way to launder it, so the children had taken old sheets and formed them into robes and pantaloons for him, using pins and rather poorly basted stitching. He looked like some adventurer returned from Arabia, needing only the keffiyeh. One unfortunate side effect of cleanliness and the wearing of sheetcloth was to render him easily visible even in the twilight, and so the children had to always be on guard as they played. Now they were especially wary as they crept into the house, looking for a suitable hiding place where Dick might hibernate. Nurse went through Dot's closets to select outfits each day so he could not stay in there. He could not live in the commode since she simply used a chamber pot. There was a sort of parlor attached to her bedroom, and a small library, making altogether a little suite. Those two room possessed tables and chairs and a settee, but no place of concealment. Finally Dot hit on the solution. "My bed is raised above the floor high enough to give you ample room beneath it," she declared, "and you would be hidden by the parmentage, the dust ruffle." "What if Nurse changes your sheets, won't she notice?" "She does not often change the dust ruffle when she brings new sheets, it just stays there. Truth to tell, she rather resents that part of her work since she considers it more fit for the upstairs maid, but the maids refuse to enter my rooms for fear of contagion. So you should be safe enough." And so it was decided. Dick even got some old clothing bundled together to use as a tick; it was as comfortable as any bed he had enjoyed in the past several years, or more so. At first Nurse was concerned that the chamber pot seemed fuller every morning than it had used to be, but then she considered that after all the dear little girl did seem to be eating better these days so of course there would be more offal. Now of an evening he would crawl out and the two would read to each other from books in her library. They both delighted in the myths and fables found in Bullfinch, and imagined themselves playing the parts of the ancients. Dick was a surprisingly apt reader, thanks to the efforts of the old vicar, and books had been a favorite means of mental escape for the invalid girl. They also used card stock to create a castle and outbuildings on the library table, with crenellated walls and a moat (of paper) and drawbridge. Dot also had a Noah's ark with little animals figures carved of wood and painted; with these they would at times populate their castle and create a fantasy kingdom of the animals. The lions were king and queen, naturally enough, and the horses were their noble knights. Swans were ladies of court. Zebras were knights from another country, sometimes jousting or battling with the knights of the kingdom, and at other times enjoying royal hospitality and swapping war stories. As in the summer, Dorothea was included in their play. In some ways she made a fine extra companion, since she ate little and never interrupted. One morning, after Nurse had left, Dot was sharing her bit of porridge with Dick. He ate after her, using the same utensils since to do otherwise would raise suspicion. He wiped the spoon first but they both knew the practice was unsanitary. Just then they heard a bustling in the hallway, and a rapping on her chamber door! "Dorothea, it is I, your good Doctor! May I enter?" And without even awaiting permission, in he came just a split secong after Dick had dived under the bed. Doctor examined Dot thoroughly, listening to her chest, looking inside her mouth as if she were a horse and he a buyer, weighing her upon a set of scales. "Hmm, ha," he murmured. "We are all glad to see you showing signs of renewed vigor young lady, and surely your appetitie has increased. But your lung function is still weak, and I am grieved to report that you have not yet regained any weight. How can you account for this, that you are eating better yet not gaining?" The girl shrugged. "I am no physician" she stated simply. "I imagine my disease must be eating away any weight I try to put on?" But the doctor shook his head. "It is most odd. I have other consumptive patients, and too few ever do regain their appetite, but for those few, weight gain soon follows. All except you." "ACHOO!" For the very reason cited by Dot, that no one often attended to the dust ruffle, it had been faithfully doing its job of collecting dust, and despite heroic efforts, Dick could not help sneezing at this least opportune of times. The doctor startled. "What was that?" "Er, achoo?" said the girl weakly. Clearly she could not imitate the vigor of that sternutation. Her guest looked about the room, his keen eyes squinting shrewdly. Finally he noticed that one section of the dust ruffle on the bed was less dusty than the rest. Quietly he approached. "Oh please don't!" Dot begged. WIth finger to his lips urging her to silence, he pounced, reaching beneath the bed and grabbing Dick out by the ankle. The boy presented an odd sight, a rather dusty bedraggled Arab with a runny nose. "What have we here? An intruder, eh?" Dot placed herself defiantly under the doctor's chin. "He is my friend! Unhand him this instant!" She spoke with the air of authority of one accustomed to be obeyed. Doctor was, after all, an employee. He eyed her with curiousity and amusement as he released Dick and sat himself down on the bed. "It is my assigned duty, young lady, to keep you from physical harm, as much as I am able. Therefore I feel I deserve an explanation." So, having no alternative, she told him all. The physician nodded his head, looking from one child to the other, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Young man, you do realize that this escapade could cost you your life, do you not? Dorothea is isolated here for a reason. You may already be infected. Please allow me to examine you." And he undressed the lad, who blushed becomingly as he listened to the boy's chest and examined his skin all over. "Remarkable. Nine months exposure yet no sign at all of any infection. You did say that your mother and her mother both succumbed; perhaps you are blessed with some resistance to the disease. Remarkable." The doctor then made a remarkable statement. "Young lady, I owe you a great deal. Because of a slip of the knife, I lost a prominent client and a great deal of my once prominent practice. Your apparent resiliency has brought me new custom, and for that I am grateful. I see now that the cause of your remarkable well being is not my efforts but this new companion. Of course the presence of a friend would be beneficial to you, but we could never have allowed it for fear of contagion. Now however the friend has found you despite our efforts, and contagion has not yet appeared. To deprive you of his company would doubtless cause your condition to worsen, which I as a servant of Hippocrates could not permit. Also, it would most certainly have an adverse effect upon my practice." He took a deep breath. "For your sake and mine, yet I hope you realize it is at great professional risk to myself, I shall become the ally of you two. Together we shall conspire to save some happy days, while we can. What is your name, young man." "Dick, sir." "And you do not ask mine in return? It is Foster, William Foster, a modernised version of Forester, which is what we once were, our family. Do you have a surname?" "Hosgood, sir." "Well enough, I once served some Osgoods, a fine old name. Now Mr. Richard Osgood, can you apply your wits and help us determine a more suitable method of disguising your presence here? You cannot always hide under the bed, you know. Sooner or later you will be discovered, and by someone less understanding than I. So...?" The three of them looked around. Nothing. "Oh if only Dorothea could talk! Maybe she would have some inspiration to share with us" Dot opined. "Oh, have the two of you switched names now?" the doctor chuckled. "Yes, she probably knows your quarters as well as anyone...hmm, I wonder... disguising your presence...the doll can help...hmm..." He placed his hands on the girls shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. "Is Dick's companionship important to you, child?" "It is," she stated firmly. "Would you be willing to make a sacrifice in order to retain that companionship?" "What have I that would be suitable for a sacrifice? My books? I suppose I could offer them..." the girl hesitated. Then she caught his meaning. "Dorothea? But why? We have comforted each other for years now." "Yet if my plan succeeds, she will still remain with you, after a fashion. Will you hear me out?" Dot nodded. "It strikes me that the three of you are nearly of the same proportions. In truth, the doll is a bit smaller now because the two of you have been growing, but the difference is not noticeable. You, Dot, have not grown as you should, no doubt because of the debilitating effects of your illness." "Yes," she replied sadly. "And you, young man, have no doubt lacked proper nourishment for some time; you are neither as plump as some chaps your age, nor as muscular as others." "I was indeed hungry for a long time sir, before I arrived here," Dick admitted. "Let us make a comparison. Dot, come sit here at your little dining table. Now let us put Dorothea in the other chair, and have Dick kneel in between the two of you. Thank God, he has blue eyes. The hair will not be a problem. The mouth? Close enough. Lashes? Perhaps some kohl should be applied. I hear that Mssr. Rimmel has developed a system of combining kohl with wax and brushing the composition on the lashes, to great effect; I shall have to investigate. Brows? They will need to be shaped. Your teeth are not well formed, son, but since the doll never opens her mouth that will not matter. For that matter, Dot's teeth are also not ideal. Your nails need better care, my lad; I shall bring you an orange stick and you shall work on your cuticles every day; also an emery board, for buffing and filing your nails. See how nicely manicured Dot's are?" "Yes, I do now, but I just never thought to think about it, if you know what I mean." The doctor chuckled again and said he did indeed know, but that they were going to have to think of a great many things if they were to pull off this grand deception. He got some tape out of his medical bag, and measured the dimensions of the doll with it, around her forehead, and from the brow to the crown of her head and then to the nape of her neck. He measured her waist, and height, and the length of her arms, and the length and circumference of her neck, jotting down his findings in a little notebook. Then he took the same measurements again, only this time it was Dick he was measuring. Finally he sighed, and put away his things. "It will have to do," he said. "The resemblance will not be perfect, but since no one will have any cause to suspect an imposture, it should succeed." After he left, Dick was relieved and felt that a great weight of apprehension had been lifted from his shoulders. After all, he had lived daily in fear of discovery. Not only would he likely have been beaten in such event, but he would have been bodily ejected from the premises. He would miss the food and warmth, and he would miss the company of his friend, one of the few persons he had encountered in his difficult life who showed any sign of caring for his welfare. Dot on the other hand was melancholy. She came to the realization before Dick did, that the doctor meant to disguise the boy to resemble her lifesized doll, Dorothea. The boy could then occupy these apartments without fear. But they would have to dispose of the true doll, the original. Dot and Dorothea had spent years together, and even though they shared little conversation, a definite bond had grown between them. Their parting would be a sad occasion. That night she brushed her doll's luxuriant hair with especial care. She twined ribbons there, and held her old friend on her lap as she read to Dick in the library. Then she took extra care to dress them both in identical nightgowns, and even in matching kerchiefs. Dick for his part took extra care to dust under the bed. There would be no more inadvertent sneezing! The doctor surprised them by appearing again next morning. Ordinarily he visited only one time per week. He had forgotten to take the measurements of Dot, he explained. His story to her parents was that he was going to give her a treat, new matching sets of clothes for her and her doll. In reality there would be three sets, but only the doctor and the children would know of this. Dick's matching set would be slightly larger than those which the real doll would wear. At first, Nurse and even Mother and Father would be shown the doll wearing the new outfits, so that they could become accustomed to her appearance. Then, it was hoped, when Dick began to play the role of the doll, no change would be detected. At last Dick understood the full scope of the plans which were to envelop and shape his life and his future. Was he dismayed? No, the thought of wearing nice clean things appealed to him, and the fact that they would be designed for a girl bothered him not at all. His life as a boy had not been a rewarding one. This change could be for the best, and if so he would welcome it. For several weeks, when the doctor made his regular visits, he kept the children informed of the profress of their new clothing. "If only one could instantly purchase dresses which fir perfectly!" he exclaimed. "But good seamstresses do not like to be rushed, and I want to stay on the good side of this one." Dick for his part offered the opinion that his mum had been a seamstress and he had always been proud of her work so please be kind to this one for his mum's sake. "Thank the Lord you won't have to speak in your role as the doll, boy," the doctor exclaimed. "Your uncouth accent would be jarring coming from her delicate lips." Dick let his friend ignore him during those ensuing weeks; she needed time to say her farewells to Dorothea. Once Dick took over that role, the doll would have to vanish forever. The snows were beginning to melt by this time, so the two children went out after sunset to survey the garden for a suitable burial plot for Dorothea. "Her body is just cloth and sawdust and plaster" Dot declared, as she sniffled back her tears, "and she could just be crushed and then burnt, but I could not bear it. I would dream of her burning up like that. So we shall bury her like a decent Christian, with prayers, and she shall have a cross standing over her resting place." Dick assented, not without regrets for the poor burial honors shown to his own father (he had not dared even remain to see his mother interred, for surely he would then have been sent to the workhouse). Together they carefully examined the substantial grounds of her private park, rejecting one potential final resting place after another, until at last they returned to the old potting shed. After all their searching and deliberation, it was decided that here was the ideal spot. There by the side of that shed stood an arbor of yew, a suitable shrub for a gravesite. The spot also had ilex, which they would try to dig up and replant over the grave itself. Dot resolved to procure an azalea for a touch of colour there as well. Dick always took pains when returning to the house after a tour of the garden, to remove his shoes so that if any footprints were seen, they would only be those of his hostess. He resolved to remember this precaution once he took upon himself the role of Dorothea. The household would surely become alarmed if they imagined the doll had been walking around the grounds with her mistress! The next day, Dick could not bring himself to eat anything. "Are you ill?" Dot queried. "You always seemed to love cook's creations." "Not ill, just worried" Dick confessed. "After he measured us, I noticed that my middle is two inches wider than Dorothea's and one inch wider than yours. Will not people notice that I am unusually stout? I should take care not to gain any additional weight!" "Tush! Bosh!" Dot returned, with a smile. "Doctor remarked on how lean you were, remember? I doubt any fasting will render you smaller, and if you starve yourself you may become ill. Certainly everyone I know is always urging me to eat heartily so that I may become healthier." Dick nodded glumly but still merely played with his food. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined embarking upon such an escapade. He would be a trespasser out in the open, a spy within the gates. It made him feel strangely uneasy, not the part of dressing like a girl, but the part of fooling people, of playing out the role. He was an honest boy, and deception did not come easily to him. The following day Nurse came to bathe her young mistress, before bringing her dinner. She brought in a large basin, and then two huge pots of steaming water. Dick from his position under the bed could only hear the pouring and splashing and rubbing, but it occurred to him that from her usual seat in the corner Dorothea would be witnessing the whole procedure. He would need to be sitting there in her place, stock still, eyes wide open, and watch while his friend's naked body was laved. How would she feel about that? They should discuss it. Maybe the doll's seat could be moved or repositioned somehow. His face felt warm; he was embarrassed. He had been sleeping under this girl's bed for nearly a year, and never had a qualm, but for some reason the thought of witnessing her nakedness troubled him. This was going to be too much for him, he was not up to the task. He had scrapped together a living for himself in the dirty back alleys of the city but never before faced such a daunting challenge. Maybe he could run away. The rabbit hole beneath the wall had never been repaired. But then Dot would be alone again. Dick did not want to disappoint her. She so much needed the company of a friend; hers was a lonely existence. Only later did he share his feelings with her, disclosing how close he had come to abandoning her. Finally there came the week when the doctor appeared and, good to his word, brought several charming outfits. He presented one set apiece to Dot, Dick and Dorothea. Then he stood back in eager anticipation to savor the results of his labours. There was a long white dress with ruffles around the neck and shoulders, gathered sleeves, and a red satin sash. a pretty white dress with colourful trim, pintucking, flounces, and gracefully detailed half-sleeves a red velvet dress to be worn over a white cotton blouse with a schoolboy's collar and long flowing sleeves and a pale shell-pink satin dress adorned with cabbage roses and a long flannel nightgown, floral, with a ruffled yoke, bell sleeves, and box pleats in the back. Since summer was approaching, there were also batiste gowns in the same pattern. "The work was not easy; I had to pay the seamstress extra. Some pieces she already had on display and simply altered them, which bought us a little time. But of course she then had to fabricate their duplicates!" "Thank you, sir" both children said politely. Dick modestly went into the library to change into his new things. The boy had never worn much in the way of underthings, let alone a chemise or a half slip, but he learned quickly enough. He noticed the clean smooth feel of the fabric against his skin; he had never before felt anything so fine. Soon both children appeared before him in the matching dresses with red satin sashes; clearly this would become their favourite. They then dressed Dorothea up and stood before the doctor for inspection. "Impeccable! Perfection!" he beamed. The difference in waistline between Dot and Dick was barely noticeable. The cut of the dresses was forgiving in that way. "Now, my lad, the truly hard work commences." The older man reached into his medical bag and withdrew a fancy box. "This expensive item comes from the leading cosmetic purveyor of our age, Eugene Rimmel. In here are creams, lotions, tints, brushes, and all else necessary and proper for the young lady of fashion. I was delighted to see that he had indeed created the treatment for the eyelashes, the one of which I had heard, using carnuba wax and kohl, to be applied with a tiny brush and some water. I confess lack of skill and experience in the art of applying cosmetics, so I hope I can persuade young Dot to lend me her expert eye as we work?" He smiled at the girl, and she returned his smile. Dick stood as if frozen to the spot, not out of fear, but out of concern that he might spoil the application of the pigments. "Relax, boy! This won't hurt," the man cajoled. "Here, take a chair. Fear not, the finest ladies in London have sported these creations and been none the worse for it." The doctor reached into his bag and removed a brown bottle filled with clear but pungent liquid some of which he shook out onto a cleam cloth. "Uhm, is that medicine?" asked Dick nervously, who had never received a dose in his life. "Fear not," the older man chuckled, "''Tis merely a cleanser, witch hazel. Men apply this before or after shaving, it braces the skin. You should never apply cosmetics over dirty or oily skin; it can cause blemishes and infection. Kindly remember this as you begin to apply your own paints." *********************************************************************** (This ends part One}