A TROUBLESOME CALL

We were going, on Saturday, ever so far,--
My mamma and I,--to the Dollies' Bazaar,
Where fifty wax dollies,--the loveliest show,
Went walking about when they wound 'em, you know.

You wouldn't believe half the things they could do:
Why, one said "Good morning," as plainly as you.
One played the piano, and one, dressed in lace,
Walked up to a mirror and powdered her face.

Well, when we were ready we stepped in the hall,
And there was a lady a-coming to call.
She said she just chanced to be passing that way,
And she really had only a minute to stay.

We waited and waited, and hoped she would go,
Till I saw it was almost the time for the show,
For I heard the clocks striking all over the town,
And I knew that the dollies would all be run down.

And so I just said, "I should s'pose, Mrs. Black,
Your little girl wonders why don't you come back."
That's all that I spoke, every 'dentical word;
But she said, "Little girls should be seen and not heard."

I guess that's a proverb, so maybe 'tis true;
But, if people won't see, what can little girls do?
My mamma looked queer, but that ended the call,
And we went to the Dollies' Bazaar, after all.

****

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