Then she was delighted with herself, and retired to the kitchen.

It was useless for Mr. Jeminy to retreat to his den.  For sooner or later, Mrs. Grumble always found something to do there.  She would come in with her broom and her mop, and look around.  Then Mr. Jeminy would walk hastily out of the house and descend to the village.  There, it would occur to him to call on Mrs. Wicket, because he happened to have with him a book he thought she would like to look at, or a flower for Juliet.  Mrs. Wicket received each book with gratitude, and looked to see if there were any pictures in it, before giving it back again.  Juliet, on the other hand, wished to know the names of all the flowers.  When Mr. Jeminy repeated their names in Latin, from the text-book on botany, she clapped her hands, and jumped up and down, because it was so comical.

Now, in August, Mr. Jeminy was building her a doll’s house in Mrs. Wicket’s tumbledown barn.  It was the sort of work he liked to engage in; no one expected him to be accurate, it was only necessary to use his imagination.  But Juliet, swinging her legs on top of the feed bin, regarded him with round and serious eyes.  For in Juliet’s opinion, Mr. Jeminy was involved in a difficult task; and she was afraid he might not be able to go through with it.

“How many rooms,” she said, “is my doll’s house going to have?”

“I had counted,” said Mr. Jeminy, “on two.”  And he went over the plans, using his hammer as a pointer.  “Here is the bedroom,” he said, “and there is the kitchen.  There’s where the stove is going to be.”

Juliet followed him without interest.  It was apparent that she was disappointed.

“Where’s the parlor?” she demanded.

“Must there be a parlor?” asked Mr. Jeminy, in surprise.

“What do you think?” said Juliet.  “I have to have a place for Anna to keep company in.”

Anna was the youngest of her three dolls; that is to say, Anna was smaller than either Sara or Margaret.  It seemed to Juliet that to be without a parlor was to lack elegance.  Mr. Jeminy rubbed his chin.  “Isn’t Anna very young,” he asked, “to keep company in the parlor?”

“No, she isn’t,” said Juliet.

Then, as Mr. Jeminy made no reply, she added, “She’s six, going on seven.”

Mr. Jeminy sighed.  “Is she indeed?” he remarked absently.  “It is a charming age.  I wish I were able to see the world again through the eyes of six, going on seven.  What a noble world it would seem, full of pleasant people.”

“So,” declared Juliet, “we have to have a parlor.”

However, she could not sit still very long.

Presently she hopped down from the feed bin.  “Look,” she said, “this is the way to fly.”  She began to dance about, waving her arms.  “This,” she declared, “is the way the bees go.”  And she ran up and down, crying “buzz, buzz.”

She decided to play house, by herself.  Arranging her three dolls, made of rags and sawdust, on top of the bin, she stood before them, with her fingers in her mouth.  Then all at once she began to play.