"Dear me! why don't you throw it away?" cried Rachel. "An old broken thing
like that is no good."
"Oh, we wouldn't ever throw it away, Rachel," said Phronsie, in alarm.
"That's our dear top, and it used to spin beautifully," and she took it
affectionately out of Rachel's hand.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel. "Well, what's the next thing?"--as little
Dick backed away from the cupboard. "What is it?"--as he placed some
article in her hand.
"They're a pair of her doll's eyes," said little Dick.
"Oh, misery me!" cried Rachel, tumbling backward, the pair of eyes in her
hand. "Why don't you have 'em put back in your doll, Phronsie?"
"Because these are broken," said Phronsie, hanging on to the top with one
hand, while she reached out the other, "and Grandpapa took my child down
and got her new eyes."
"Well, what makes you save these?" said Rachel, sitting straight again;
"they're no use, Phronsie, now they're broken. Throw them away, do."
"No, no," protested Phronsie, holding the pair of eyes very closely in her
warm little palm, "they were my child's; I'm going to keep them always."
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel faintly, "you'll never set up your cupboard
if you're going to put everything back again the same as it was. Well, pull
out the next thing, Phronsie; it's your turn."
So Phronsie set her two treasures down in a niche in the big boulder, and
leaned over the door of the cupboard.
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