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Updated: June 17, 2025
She, too, hunted up old books and papers that might contain some contributions to the paper-doll houses. But afternoons were always devoted to rest, until four or five o'clock, when Uncle Steve came to pay his daily visit. One afternoon he came in with a fresh budget of letters. "Letters!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Goody! I haven't had any letters for two days.
"I don't know," the sergeant admitted. "It could be a bobcat. Canada lynx. Jink, here, has a theory that it's some escapee from the paper-doll factory, with a machete. Me, I hope not, but I'm not ignoring the possibility." The man with the matinee-idol's face nodded. "It could be a lynx. I understand they're not unknown, in this section."
Their treasures, after two months of absence, were all new and fresh to them. The Pride, reveling in her own "cozy corner," or curled up in a big chair by the log fire, reread her favorite books; the Hope and the Joy played paper-doll "ladies" on the deep couch, cutting out a whole new generation with up-to-date wardrobes from the costume pages of some marvelous new fashion magazines.
A stocking just like Patty's! What joy! Perhaps at that very moment Patty was looking at hers. It was so delightful to open the small packages, to find a beautiful paper-doll from Miss Emily, a funny cheap toy from each of the boys: a silly monkey, a quacking duck and a jumping jack; a little fairy tale book from Patty, and oh, wonder! the Roman sash from Miss Dorothy. Even Mr.
Fletcher's was a delightful shop. It had almost everything in it that anyone could want. In fact it was so full of charming things that it was hard to make a choice. Molly's eyes were fascinated by a card full of paper-doll patterns, and their pretty blue, red, and white dresses.
"If you laugh," she threatened, "I'll tip you over backward again and trample on you." "I believe you would!" said Barton with a sudden sobriety more packed with mirth than any laugh he had ever laughed. "Well, I don't care," conceded the girl a bit sheepishly. "Everybody laughs at my paper-doll book! Father does! Everybody does!
In his usual gruff voice and with his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me some of those rubbers in the window.” Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, she thought—and put them on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned to replace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. “Guess I won’t take one to-day,” Arthur said, while her back was still turned, and walked out.
"Not commonplace. A judicious paragraph anticipative of your reappearance could be arranged, in which you could be hailed as the normal hero and heroine, and greeted as a grateful relief from the hackneyed freaks and deformities of the prevalent short story, or the impassioned paper-doll pattern of the mediæval men and maidens, or the spotted and battered figures of the studies in morbid analysis which pass for fiction in the magazines.
I'll be your real Prince Quippi not a a paper-doll, thinkish one, and come after you." "Clear from China?" Leigh queried. "Yes, when I'm a big soldier like my papa, and we'll go off to the purple notches and live." "You don't look like my Prince Quippi," Leigh insisted.
At the birth of his child one present only was to be made: namely, one toy-spear, in the case of a boy; or one paper-doll, or one "mud-doll," in the case of a girl... As for the more unfortunate class of farmers, having no land of their own, and officially termed mizunomi, or "water-drinkers," it is scarcely necessary to remark that these were still more severely restricted in regard to food, apparel, etc.
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