The Dolls’ House Read Online Free Page B

was brushing out the rooms and stairs. Then Charlotte fetched a pail of water and a cake of soap and her nail brush.
    ‘Charlotte, do you think you ought to use that?’
    ‘Hush!’ said Charlotte, beginning to use it. She washed the walls and roof and Emily, after watching a moment, joined in and, fetching her nail brush, began to wash the floor and
walls and ceilings. She was a little astonished because she was the one who usually thought of things; it was unusual for Charlotte to be the first. ‘H’m,’ said Emily, scrubbing
hard. ‘Charlotte must like the dolls’ house very very much.’ The grime was so deep, the dust so thick, that they had to change the water in the pail three times.
    ‘London grime,’ said Tottie, watching. ‘A hundred years of London grime.’
    ‘I hope she doesn’t miss the front steps,’ said Mr Plantaganet, but Charlotte did not miss the front steps. She missed nothing at all. By the time she had finished she herself
was filthy, with a filthy overall and dirt marks on her cheeks. Then she took a dry cloth and dried the walls and roof and steps all over; then took a duster and polished them. Emily watched again
and followed her.
    ‘Good work, Charlotte,’ she said.
    ‘Yes, good work,’ said Tottie.
    ‘Good work,’ cried all the Plantaganets.
    ‘Why it begins to look new,’ said Emily, stepping back from the dolls’ house.
    Indeed it looked much better. The good paint, and paint was good in those days, had come up well, and the wallpapers, from their brushing, had lost their look of grime. Charlotte had knocked
down a few more shells from the pictures, but Emily had fetched the glue and glued them on again, which was unusual for Emily because she did not usually do things for Charlotte. She also brushed
and dusted the furniture and rubbed the rust off the stove with sandpaper; she pulled the curtains down from the windows to which they had been fastened with drawing-pins and ripped the covers off
the sofa and the chairs. Soon beds, chairs, and windows were left quite bare.
    ‘Are you still wishing, Tottie?’ asked Mr Plantaganet anxiously.
    ‘Yes,’ said Tottie firmly.
    ‘You – see what I mean, don’t you?’ said Mr Plantaganet.
    ‘You must wish about the curtains,’ said Tottie. ‘You must wish about the couch and chairs. You must wish about the beds.’
    ‘Curtains, chairs, beds,’ said Mr Plantaganet. He wished he could shut his eyes in order to wish harder but, of course, he could not because they were not made to shut.
    ‘Over and over again,’ said Tottie. ‘You must never leave off wishing.’
    ‘Beds, chairs, couch, curtains; beds, chairs, couch, curtains; beds, chairs . . . ’
    ‘My cot. My own little cot,’ wished Apple.
    ‘My bird-broom-feather.’ Birdie still did not know which to think of first.
    ‘Beds, couch, curtains, chairs . . . ’
    The door opened and the children’s mother came in.
    ‘Could she have washed those carpets already?’ asked Mr Plantaganet suspiciously.
    She answered him herself. ‘I have washed the carpets,’ said Mother. ‘They have come up beautifully. Now I have brought the scrap bag; we shall need new mattresses and pillows
and sheets and blankets for the beds.’
    ‘And pillow cases,’ said Charlotte, ‘for mouse-size pillows.’
    Emily stared at Charlotte, and so did the Plantaganets. It was not usually Charlotte who said things.
    ‘Could I have a mouse-size pillow?’ asked Apple, excited. ‘A pillow for a very small mouse?’
    ‘I shall fetch the cotton wool,’ said Emily, ‘and then I can stuff them as you make them.’
    ‘But – but – I don’t want cotton for mine,’ cried Birdie, ‘I want – want – want –’ Her head rattled so that she could not say what it
was she wanted. Tottie began to wish.
    ‘I think Birdie ought to have a feather bed,’ said Charlotte suddenly.
    ‘A-aah!’ said Birdie rapturously.
    ‘Here are some bits of flannel for blankets. We can nick them