"Found it."
"You didn't. You've been stealing. You stole it from my box that I left
on the porch yesterday. What were you going to do with it?"
"Make a frock for Floridy Alabamy."
"Why didn't you ask for something, instead of taking what didn't belong
to you?"
Bubbles was silent.
"You told a story too, when you said you found it; you knew it was mine.
Now you shall be punished."
"Don't send me to the orphan asylum," said Bubbles, beginning to cry.
"No, I promised mamma I wouldn't say that any more, but I shall do
something. The idea of your doing such a thing. I really used to think
you were nearly as nice as a white girl, Bubbles, but I never shall any
more."
Bubbles cried harder than ever at this.
"What shall I do with her, Florence?"
"Take her doll away," suggested she.
"No! no! no! please, Miss Dimple, I'll never do so no mo'," cried
Bubbles, "'deed an' 'deed, I won't. Don't take my doll away. Yuh can
whup me, or anything, but don't tek my doll away," and she hugged it
tightly, rocking herself to and fro.
Dimple thought a moment, and then she said, "I know, we will leave her
here on the roof, and take the ladder away; then when mamma calls us to
come in to dress we can put the ladder up again, and she can get down."
This was agreed upon, and Bubbles was left a lofty prisoner.
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