When dear old Mrs. Hay went back to

When dear old Mrs. Hay went back to town after staying with the Burnells she sent the children a doll's house. It was so big that the carter and Pat carried it into the courtyard, and there it stayed, propped up on two wooden boxes beside the feed-room door. No harm could come of it; it was summer. And perhaps the smell of paint would have gone off by the time it had to be taken in. For, really, the smell of paint coming from that doll's house ("Sweet of old Mrs. Hay, of course; most sweet and generous!") -- but the smell of paint was quite enough to make any one seriously ill, in Aunt Beryl's opinion. Even before the sacking was taken off. And when it was . . .
There stood the doll's house, a dark, oily, spinach green, picked out with bright yellow. Its two solid little chimneys, glued on to the roof, were painted red and white, and the door, gleaming with yellow varnish, was like a little slab of toffee. Four windows, real windows, were divided into panes by a broad streak of green. There was actually a tiny porch, too, painted yellow, with big lumps of congealed paint hanging along the edge.
But perfect, perfect little house! Who could possibly mind the smell? It was part of the joy, part of the newness.
"Open it quickly, some one!"
The hook at the side was stuck fast. Pat pried it open with his pen- knife, and the whole house-front swung back, and-there you were, gazing at one and the same moment into the drawing-room and dining-room, the kitchen and two bedrooms. That is the way for a house to open! Why don't all houses open like that? How much more exciting than peering through the slit of a door into a mean little hall with a hat-stand and two umbrellas! That is-isn't it? -- what you long to know about a house when you put your hand on the knocker. Perhaps it is the way God opens houses at dead of night when He is taking a quiet turn with an angel. . . .
"Oh-oh!" The Burnell children sounded as though they were in despair. It was too marvellous; it was too much for them. They had never seen anything like it in their lives. All the rooms were papered. There were pictures on the walls, painted on the paper, with gold frames complete. Red carpet covered all the floors except the kitchen; red plush chairs in the drawing-room, green in the dining-room; tables, beds with real bedclothes, a cradle, a stove, a dresser with tiny plates and one big jug. But what Kezia liked more than anything, what she liked frightfully, was the lamp. It stood in the middle of the dining-room table, an exquisite little amber lamp with a white globe. It was even filled all ready for lighting, though, of course, you couldn't light it. But there was something inside that looked like oil, and that moved when you shook it.
The father and mother dolls, who sprawled very stiff as though they had fainted in the drawing-room, and their two little children asleep upstairs, were really too big for the doll's house. They didn't look as though they belonged. But the lamp was perfect. It seemed to smile to Kezia, to say, "I live here." The lamp was real.
The Burnell children could hardly walk to school fast enough the next morning. They burned to tell everybody, to describe, to-well-to boast about their doll's house before the school-bell rang.
"I'm to tell," said Isabel, "because I'm the eldest. And you two can join in after. But I'm to tell first."
There was nothing to answer. Isabel was bossy, but she was always right, and Lottie and Kezia knew too well the powers that went with being eldest. They brushed through the thick buttercups at the road edge and said nothing.
"And I'm to choose who's to come and see it first. Mother said I might."
For it had been arranged that while the doll's house stood in the courtyard they might ask the girls at school, two at a time, to come and look. Not to stay to tea, of course, or to come traipsing through the house. But just to stand quietly in the courtyard while Isabel pointed out the beauties, and Lottie and Kezia looked pleased. . . .
But hurry as they might, by the time they had reached the tarred palings of the boys' playground the bell had begun to jangle. They only just had time to whip off their hats and fall into line before the roll was called. Never mind. Isabel tried to make up for it by looking very important and mysterious and by whispering behind her hand to the girls near her, "Got something to tell you at playtime."
Playtime came and Isabel was surrounded. The girls of her class nearly fought to put their arms round her, to walk away with her, to beam flatteringly, to be her special friend. She held quite a court under the huge pine trees at the side of the playground. Nudging, giggling together, the little girls pressed up close. And the only two who stayed outside the ring were the two who were always outside, the little Kelveys. They knew better than to come anywhere near the Burnells.
For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind of place their parents would have chosen if there had been any choice. But there was none. It was the only school for miles. And the consequence was all the children in the neighborhood, the judge's little girls, the doctor's daughters, the store-keeper's children, the milkman's, were forced to mix together. Not to speak of there being an equal number of rude, rough little boys as well. But the line had to be drawn somewhere. It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the children, including the Burnells, were not allowed even to speak to them. They walked past the Kelveys with their heads in the air, and as they set the fashion in all matters of behaviour, the Kelveys were shunned by everybody. Even the teacher had a special voice for them, and a special smile for the other children when Lil Kelvey came up to her desk with a bunch of dreadfully common-looking flowers.
They were the daughters of a spry, hardworking little washerwoman, who went about from house to house by the day. This was awful enough. But where was Mr. Kelvey? Nobody knew for certain. But everybody said he was in prison. So they were the daughters of a washerwoman and a gaolbird. Very nice company for other people's children! And they looked it. Why Mrs. Kelvey made them so conspicuous was hard to understand. The truth was they were dressed in "bits" given to her by the people for whom she worked. Lil, for instance, who was a stout, plain child, with big freckles, came to school in a dress made from a green art-serge table-cloth of the Burnells', with red plush sleeves from the Logans' curtains. Her hat, perched on top of her high forehead, was a grown-up woman's hat, once the property of Miss Lecky, the postmistress. It was turned up at the back and trimmed with a large scarlet quill. What a little guy she looked! It was impossible not to laugh. And her little sister, our Else, wore a long white dress, rather like a nightgown, and a pair of little boy's boots. But whatever our Else wore she would have looked strange. She was a tiny wishbone of a child, with cropped hair and enormous solemn eyes-a little white owl. Nobody had ever seen her smile; she scarcely ever spoke. She went through life holding on to Lil, with a piece of Lil's skirt screwed up in her hand. Where Lil went our Else followed. In the playground, on the road going to and from school, there was Lil marching in front and our Else holding on behind. Only when she wanted anything, or when she was out of breath, our Else gave Lil a tug, a twitch, and Lil stopped and turned round. The Kelveys never failed to understand each other.
Now they hovered at the edge; you couldn't stop them listening. When the little girls turned round and sneered, Lil, as usual, gave her silly, shamefaced smile, but our Else only looked.
And Isabel's voice, so very proud, went on telling. The carpet made a great sensation, but so did the beds with real bedclothes, and the stove with an oven door.
When she finished Kezia broke in. "You've forgotten the lamp, Isabel."
"Oh, yes," said Isabel, "and there's a teeny little lamp, all made of yellow glass, with a white globe that stands on the dining-room table. You couldn't tell it from a real one."
"The lamp's best of all," cried Kezia. She thought Isabel wasn't making half enough of the little lamp. But nobody paid any attention. Isabel was choosing the two who were to come back with them that afternoon and see it. She chose Emmie Cole and Lena Logan. But when the others knew they were all to have a chance, they couldn't be nice enough to Isabel. One by one they put their arms round Isabel's waist and walked her off. They had something to whisper to her, a secret. "Isabel's my friend."
Only the little Kelveys moved away forgotten; there was nothing more for them to hear.
Days passed, and as more children saw the doll's house, the fame of it spread. It became the one subject, the rage. The one question was, "Have you seen Burnells' doll's house?" "Oh, ain't it lovely!" "Haven't you seen it? Oh, I say!"
Even the dinner hour was given up to talking about it. The little girls sat under the pines eating their thick mutton sandwiches and big slabs of johnny cake spread with butter. While always, as near as they could get, sat the Kelveys, our Else holding on to Lil, listening too, while they chewed their jam sandwiches out of a newspaper soaked with large red blobs.
"Mother," said Kezia, "can't I ask the Kelveys just once?"
"Certainly not, Kezia."
"But why not?"
"Run away, Kezia; you know quite well why not."

At last everybody had seen it except them. On that day the subject rather flagged. It was the dinner hour. The children stood together under the pine trees, and suddenly, as they looked at the Kelveys eating out of their paper, always by themselves, always listening, they wanted to be horrid to them. Emmie Cole started the whisper.
"Lil Kelvey's going to be a servant when she grows up."
"O-oh, how awful!" said Isabel Burnell, and she made eyes at Emmie.
Emmie swallowed in a

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когда старый милый миссис сено вернулся в город, после пребывания в burnells она отправила детей кукольный дом.он был настолько большой, что картер и пэт провели его во двор, и остался там, опирается на две деревянные ящики, не кормить дверь.никакого вреда, может быть его; он был летом.и, возможно, запах краски бы не ушел к тому времени, когда оно будет рассматриваться.о, действительно, запах краски из этой кукольный дом ("милый старый миссис сено, конечно, самые сладкие и щедрый!")- но запах краски было вполне достаточно, чтобы какой - либо серьезно болен, тетя берил мнения.еще до увольнения не взлетел.и, когда это было..там стоял кукольный дом, темно - зеленый, жирные, шпинат, выбрала с ярко - желтого цвета.два твердых мало труб, клеить на крышу, были окрашены красным и белым, и дверь, мерцающие с желтыми лаком, была как маленькая плита ириски.четыре окна, реальная окна, были разбиты стекла, широким полоса зеленых.там был небольшой крыльцо тоже краской желтого цвета с большими кусками краски для повешения вдоль кромки.но идеальный, совершенный домик!кто мог бы внимание на запах?это было частью радость, часть новизны."открывай быстро, некоторые один!"крюк в сторону застрял быстро.пэт нашел его открытым с пером - нож, и весь дом фронта качнулся назад, и там был ты, глядя на одно и то же время в гостиной, столовой, кухни, двух спален.это способ для дома, чтобы открыть!почему не все дома, открыть это?как более захватывающе, чем заглядывая через щели в двери в мало что значит, зал с шляпу стоять и два зонтики!это правда?- то, что ты давно знал о доме, если вы положите свою руку на молоток.возможно, это как бог открывает домов в глубокой ночью, когда он играет тихо очередь с ангелом..."о - о!"The бернелл детей звучит, как если бы они были в отчаянии.это слишком прекрасно, это было слишком много для них.они никогда не видели в своей жизни.все номера были papered.там были фотографии на стенах, написанные на бумаге, с золотыми рамами.красный ковер, охватывает все полы, кроме кухни; красные плюшевые кресла в гостиной, зеленые в столовой; столы, кровати с реальными постельного белья, колыбель, плиту, комод с крошечными тарелки и один большой кувшин.но что kezia любил больше, чем что - либо, что она понравилась ужасно, был огонь.он стоял посреди столовой, изысканная мало янтарь фары с белой планеты.было даже заполнены все готово для освещения, хотя, конечно, вы не зажигал.но там было что - то внутри, что выглядит, как нефть, и что переехали, когда ты потряс его.отец и мать куклы, которые валялись очень жесткой, как будто они потеряли сознание в гостиной, и двух маленьких детей спать наверху, оказались слишком большой для кукольный домик.они не выглядят так, словно они принадлежат.но огонь был идеальным.казалось, с улыбкой на kezia, говорить: "я здесь живу." лампа была реальной.The бернелл детей едва мог ходить в школу достаточно быстро, на следующее утро.они сожгли, чтобы сказать всем, чтобы описать, а похвастаться их кукольный домик в школе прозвенел звонок."я сказал," - говорит изабель, "потому что я старший.и вы можете присоединиться к после.но я скажу первой ".нечего было ответить.изабель была властная, но она всегда была права, и лотти и kezia знал слишком хорошо державы, которые отправились со старшим.они часто через густой лютиках на дороги края и ничего не сказал."и я могу выбрать, кто пришел и посмотрел его первым.мама сказала, что я могу ".для этого были организованы в том, что, хотя кукольный домик стоял во дворе они могут попросить девочек в школе, в два раза, иди и посмотри.чтобы не остаться на чай, конечно, или иди тащась через дом.но просто стоять спокойно во дворе, а изабель отметил красавиц, и лотти и kezia выглядел польщенным...но, скорее, как они, возможно, к тому времени, когда они достигли заасфальтировали palings из мальчиков площадка колокол начал жить.они только - только успела сделать свои шляпы и делятся на линии до избирателей звали.неважно.изабель пыталась исправить это, посмотрев очень важные и загадочных и шепчутся за руку к девушкам, рядом с ней, "кое - что тебе на время".игра пришла и изабель была окружена.девочки в классе почти боролись за то, чтобы поставить их оружием вокруг нее, уйти с ней, света flatteringly, для нее особый друг.она провела довольно суда под огромные сосны на стороне площадки.катать, хихикая, маленькие девочки настаивали близко.и только два, которые остались за пределами кольца - два, которые всегда были за пределами, мало kelveys.они знают лучше, чем на приближался к burnells.для того, школы бернелл дети отправились не в то место их