Chapter I

CONCERNING A DOLL IN AN AMBER-COLOURED GOWN

IT was a wretched evening, only a few days before the joyful Christmas season. The weather was damp and chill, and the London streets were slippery and comfortless. Pale, shivering forms sheltered themselves in every conceivable nook which was safe, for a time at any rate, from the keen scrutiny of the police; business men and women were wending their different ways homewards from the City, and the theatres and other places of amusement were not yet open. The shops were with enticing articles displayed to the best advantage, and many a poor child stood wistfully gazing at the fruit in the grocers' windows, so temptingly set out, as though to purposely tantalize hungry eyes.

And then the toys! Wonderful inventions made for the children of the wealthy! Engines worked by machinery! Dolls that opened and shut their eyes, and even walked and talked! Noah's arks of marvellous workmanship, containing every known animal on the face of the globe!

A young man, hurrying along, turned his head and glanced smilingly at a shop window full of dolls of all sizes and conditions and prices, from the gorgeously apparelled waxen bride-dollie in satin and orange blossom to her penny Dutch sister with flat figure and nondescript features.

"That would be the place to buy a doll for Nellie!" exclaimed the young man, as he came to a full stop and stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the motley faces that seemed to stare at him unblinkingly with their glassy eyes. "I suppose she would rather have a doll than anything else, although she has so many already!"

He was a good-looking lad, a medical student, Jim Blewett by name, and Nellie was the only child of his brother in Cornwall, and a great favourite with her uncle.

"I think I could afford half-a-sovereign," he ruminated; "for that price it would appear one can get a most desirable dollie!"

He was turning into the doorway of the shop when he espied a child at his side, watching him with great interest, and he paused. She was a little girl of about seven years old, with a pale, thin face, and large dark eyes. She drew back when she saw he had observed her, and coloured. His shrewd glance noted she was poorly though neatly clad, and that her toes had worn through her boots, whilst her head was covered by an old sailor hat much too large for her, and with a dilapidated brim.

"I suppose I must have been talking aloud," Jim Blewett thought; then nodded encouragingly at the child, who responded with a smile.

The young man was not a Londoner; he was only studying at one of the London hospitals, and looking forward to the day when, fully qualified, he would be at liberty to practise his profession in the country. Brought up in a small provincial town, where he had known all the inhabitants, at any rate by sight, he could never understand the unconcern with which Londoners regard those who cross their path. He was always picking up acquaintances in an eccentric manner, as his fellow students declared, or mixing himself up in other people's business.

"It would be a much more unhappy world than it is, if no one interfered with what did not immediately affect himself!" Jim would retort good-naturedly. He was certainly in disposition very unlike the priest and the Levite in the parable, for he was always ready to go out of his way to assist any one; his desire was to be neighbourly to all the world. The young man was a general favourite, and though many of his acquaintances laughed at him, they could not help admiring him for his open, manly Christianity.

"Well, little one," he said cheerily, "are you having a peep at the dolls?"

"Yes, sir," the little girl responded, in a slightly abashed tone.

"I suppose you have a doll of your own at home?" he proceeded to enquire.

The child shook her head, whilst a smile crossed her face, as though she was amused at the thought. Then she turned to the window again and sighed. After watching her a few moments in silence, Jim drew nearer and asked:

"If you had the money, which would you buy?" She glanced at him doubtfully, being mistrustful of a stranger, but, reassured by his kind face, pointed to a large rosy-cheeked doll, in a gaudy amber-coloured frock. Jim saw it was ticketed half-a-crown.

"If I gave you that doll, would you be pleased?"

She looked at him hesitatingly, then drew back, the tears springing to her eyes, her cheeks crimsoning.

"You're making game of me!" she cried.

"On my honour I am not! See here!" Jim seized the child's chill hand in his warm clasp, and drew her into the brilliantly-lighted shop. "Will you please let us see one of the dolls in the window?" he asked of the young woman who came forward to serve him. "It is the one in the yellow dress we want. The one marked half-a-crown."

In a minute the much-coveted doll was laid on the counter, and Jim turned to his companion.

"Is that the one you would like?"

The little girl lifted her eyes to his smiling countenance, her face alternately paling and flushing with excitement.

"Oh, sir!" she gasped. "Oh, sir! Do you really mean it?"

"Mean it? Of course I do! I'm going to give you a Christmas present because I have a little niece about your age, and you remind me of her, and I know if she was here she would want you to have this doll!"

"Oh!"

"I will put the doll in paper," said the young woman behind the counter.

"Perhaps you would rather take her as she is?" asked Jim. "Or shall the lady wrap her up for you?"

"She might feel the cold!" the child answered, looking at the doll with longing eyes.

"She might," he agreed laughingly. "We will have her put in paper, please."

The assistant turned aside, and in a minute brought forward a cardboard box, into which she carefully laid the doll, then, after wrapping the box in paper and securely fastening the parcel with a string, she handed it across the counter.

"There, my dear," she said, as the little girl took possession of her present, "your doll will be perfectly safe now."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am!"

"Thank you," Jim said, as he paid his half-a-crown. "You are very good to take so much trouble!"

"Not at all, sir! I am only too pleased!"

The young woman, who was weary with standing all day, and had been feeling decidedly cross and disheartened, seemed considerably cheered by the sale of the doll. She watched Jim and his companion leave the shop with interested eyes.

"What an odd couple!" she thought. "Fancy him spending his money on that street child! Well, he must have a kind heart!"

Meanwhile Jim Blewett was saying good-bye, and refusing to listen to the thanks which the delighted little girl was trying to put into words.

"Run away home," he said, "and take care of your dollie. I hope she'll be a good child, and give you no trouble!"

"Oh, sir! I can never, never thank you!"

"Never mind. I don't want thanks. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, sir!"

The child gave him a long look full of gratitude; then, clasping her treasure closely in her arms, she darted down the street, and was soon lost in the hurrying crowd of pedestrians.

"Poor little soul!" Jim thought. "I'm glad I was able to gratify her desire. Well, Miss Nellie will not have such an expensive present as I intended, but she won't mind, and I think I'll write and tell her of this little adventure; she will be interested."

The young man hastened home, swinging along with easy strides, his thoughts busy with his little niece in Cornwall and the child whom he had rendered happy in his impulsive way. Arrived at his lodgings, he found his tea awaiting him, and his landlady forgot her household cares as she answered his cheery greeting.

"A dull evening, Mrs. Metherell," he remarked, as she brought in the tea-pot, and he sat down to his frugal meal; "but I never mind the weather! We shall soon have Christmas now, and I begin to feel quite Christmassy already!"