f　the　kitchen　and　housekeeper’s　room；　generally　bearing　the　candle　along　with　her。　I　then　sat　with　my　doll　on　my　knee　till　the　fire　got　low；　glancing　round　occasionally　to　make　sure　that　nothing　worse　than　myself　haunted　the　shadowy　room；　and　when　the　embers　sank　to　a　dull　red；　I　undressed　hastily；　tugging　at　knots　and　strings　as　I　best　might；　and　sought　shelter　from　cold　and　darkness　in　my　crib。　To　this　crib　I　always　took　my　doll；　human　beings　must　love　something；　and；　in　the　dearth　of　worthier　objects　of　affection；　I　contrived　to　find　a　pleasure　in　loving　and　cherishing　a　faded　graven　image；　shabby　as　a　miniature　scarecrow。　It　puzzles　me　now　to　remember　with　what　absurd　sincerity　I　doated　on　this　little　toy；　half　fancying　it　alive　and　capable　of　sensation。　I　could　not　sleep　unless　it　was　folded　in　my　night…gown；　and　when　it　lay　there　safe　and　warm；　I　was　paratively　happy；　believing　it　to　be　happy　likewise。

Long　did　the　hours　seem　while　I　waited　the　departure　of　the　pany；　and　listened　for　the　sound　of　Bessie’s　step　on　the　stairs：　sometimes　she　would　e　up　in　the　interval　to　seek　her　thimble　or　her　scissors；　or　perhaps　to　bring　me　something　by　way　of　supper—a　bun　or　a　cheese…cake—then　she　would　sit　on　the　bed　while　I　ate　it；　and　when　I　had　finished；　she　would　tuck　the　clothes　round　me；　and　twice　she　kissed　me；　and　said；　“Good　night；　Miss　Jane。”　When　thus　gentle；　Bessie　seemed　to　me　the　best；　prettiest；　kindest　being　in　the　world；　and　I　wished　most　intensely　that　she