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Updated: May 26, 2025
"I'd give a good deal, sister, if you wouldn't always count your chickens before they're hatched!" Whereupon she climbed down and went over to sit by her mother, where she glared indignantly at her sister. Her dear "bawheady" doll was in her arms. This doll was so called because early in life he had lost his wig, and thereby developed a capability for being a baby, a bishop, or a boy.
"I'm sorry for his folks." "This is Handel." "What of?" and Nan got up to look. "Not a dipper-handle, but a man of that name. He could play too." "He looks kind of like a woman look at his hair." "That is his wig." "Was he a bawheady?" and Beth got up to look more closely at the man who was afflicted like her beloved doll. "I s'pose he must have been.
"Your grandfather left you a great deal of money, children, and you must learn to use it generously. It was his wish, and mine, that you should begin at once to think about such things before you learn to love money for its own sake, and what it will buy." "O, we don't care at all, do we, sister?" said Beth, stretching up on tiptoe to get her "bawheady" from the bureau.
The rainwater barrel, half sunken in the ground, was at one of the rear corners of the house. "We are not allowed to play in that, I think," said Elizabeth uneasily. "That doesn't mean me, I'm older'n you. Here, give me the doll without a wig." Down went the beloved "bawheady" with a thud that carried desolation to Beth's tender heart.
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