The Doll Collector

“HYPERS! ” George exclaimed, as she scrambled to her feet and rubbed her knee. “Where’d the cyclone come from? ”

Nancy brushed the dirt from her clothes and pointed down the path. Rose was precariously jerking to a halt on a bright-red motorbike. “There’s our culprit! ”

The young girl hopped off the vehicle and skipped toward them. “Jiminy crickets! When you get up speed on that thing, it’s hard to stop, ” she explained, then added, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Nancy assured Rose that fortunately both she and her friend were all right, and introduced Rose to George.

“Aren’t you a little young to be riding around on a motorbike? ” George asked.

“Regular bikes are too slow, ” Rose declared.

“I traded mine for this one, but it doesn’t work right.”

“Does your grandmother approve of your having it? ” Nancy asked.

“Granny doesn’t approve of anything I do.” Rose pouted, then laughed. “She couldn’t interfere in this deal. I traded my two-wheeler for this secondhand motorbike before she could say no.”

“Your name ought to be Wild Rose, ” said George, disgusted.

Rose frowned. “You’re a meanie. You’re a girl and they call you George! ”

“Have you a license for the motorbike? ” George asked her.

Rose’s face grew red. “No.”

“Then it’s against the law to ride it.”

“I’ll watch out for the police.” Rose giggled. “Say, did you come to see Granny? ”

“Yes, she invited us to tea, ” Nancy replied.

“Well, don’t let her get you into her clutches—not with all those funny dolls of hers! ” Rose warned.

Before the girls could ask what she meant, Rose ran off to retrieve her motorbike.

“You heard what she said? ” George asked in a hushed voice. “Maybe we’re heading straight for trouble! ”

Nancy nodded but did not offer to turn back. Always fascinated by an intimation of something unknown or mysterious, she had, in the past, become involved in many exciting adventures. Friends often declared that she was good at finding the key to a baffling enigma partly because she was a “chip off the old block, ” referring to her brilliant father.

Nancy was quick to share the credit for her successes with her friends. Now, as she rang the bell of the Struthers residence, Nancy was glad that George was along. She could participate in what the young sleuth sensed was to be an unusual assignment.

“How nice to see you again, Nancy, ” Mrs. Struthers greeted her, as she opened the wide door. “And this must be the friend of whom you spoke. Come right in.”

Introductions were acknowledged and the hostess led the girls into a tastefully decorated living room. Several bowls of flowers were attractively arranged, and a silver tea service had been set out on a low, carved antique table.

Although eager to hear about the mystery Mrs. Struthers had mentioned the evening before, Nancy restrained herself from bringing up the subject. “We met your granddaughter outside, ” she said. “Rose mentioned something about your dolls. Do you have a collection? ”

“Does she! ” cried Rose, who popped in the door. “Jiminy crickets, there are hundreds of dolls! ”

“Rose, dear, don’t shout so, ” Mrs. Struthers remonstrated quietly.

She turned to Nancy and George and told them that collecting dolls had been her hobby for the past few years. She had acquired them from nearly every country in the world.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in seeing them, ” she offered. “There’s a great deal to be learned from dolls, even after we have given them up as playthings.”

“Why is that? ” inquired George, who had seldom played with dolls.

As Mrs. Struthers led the way down a long hall, she explained, “One can learn about people of long ago and about other countries from dolls.”

Nancy caught her breath as the woman pushed a door open. Straight ahead against one wall of a large room was a tremendous rosewood cabinet with glass windows. On the shelves was Mrs. Struthers’ collection.

“How lovely! ” Nancy exclaimed. “You must have some real treasures here! ”

Mrs. Struthers reached into the cabinet and selected a little old lady dressed in a red cape and black silk bonnet. Over her arm was a tiny basket.

“I have been fortunate in getting some unusual dolls, ” she told her guests. “This is one of the original peddlar dolls made in London in the nineteenth century. Notice the contents of her basket.”

The girls were fascinated to see so many miniature objects, including musical instruments, ribbons, and laces.

“Oh look! ” George marveled. “There are even little pots and pans! ”

“Imagine making something like this! ” Nancy interjected. She reached into the basket and picked out a tiny set of knitting needles holding a half-completed miniature sock.

Just then the girls’ attention was diverted by the sound of a tinkling melody. Rose motioned toward a small table where a beautiful doll stood on the velvet-covered box from which the music was coming.

“Watch! ” she directed.

The doll began to move her head from side to side in time with the music. To add to her charm, she brought up one hand to smell a wee bouquet of flowers she was holding, while with the other she demurely waved a tiny, jeweled fan.

“She’s darling, ” Nancy said.

Mrs. Struthers was delighted by her visitors’ reaction, but suggested they return to the living room and have tea.

“Not for me, ” Rose sang out and left them.

“I’m afraid I have very little control over my lively granddaughter, ” the hostess lamented as she poured the tea. “Perhaps it’s because she does not have the strong hand of a father.

“I feel I can tell you girls about this without fear of your violating my confidence, ” she went on. “Rose’s father was a Spanish gypsy and a talented violinist. He gave many concerts in this country. My daughter became entranced with him and his exquisite playing. Against Mr. Struthers’ and my wishes she left home to marry him.”

Nancy now understood the reason for the woman’s tears at the recital. “It must have been a great shock to you, ” she said.

Mrs. Struthers nodded. “We were very upset by my daughter’s act and, I regret to say, rather harsh with her. She was banished from the family. When Rose was eight years old her father deserted them, and we pleaded with Enid to come home with her child.”

“Did they? ” George asked eagerly.

“Yes, but too late. My daughter was in poor health and heartbroken besides. Within a few months she died. Three months later, my dear husband passed away.”

“I’m so sorry, ” Nancy said sympathetically.

“Rose is now my problem, ” the woman confessed. “She is not aware of her background, for her parents did not live with the tribe and never told her, Naturally, I never have breathed the truth.

“My granddaughter is very headstrong. She doesn’t study in school, and runs off whenever it suits her fancy. If I leave her with adults or other children, she disgraces me by the things she says and does.”

“Perhaps if you took Rose away for a year, ” Nancy suggested, but Mrs. Struthers shook her head.

“We did travel abroad for many months, but that only seemed to arouse wanderlust and a desire for freedom in her. Personally I enjoy traveling, and it gives me an opportunity to collect dolls. This means a great deal to me. I have been searching for one particular doll. Now I must stop, but I want you to continue the search. You will be given money to do it. I shall not be satisfied until I find the doll.”

“Is it a rare one? ” Nancy asked, intrigued by the assignment.

“Yes, the doll is connected with Rose’s past. If I tell you my secret, you must never repeat it to her.”

Nancy and George said they would respect the woman’s wishes.

“When my beloved daughter lay on her deathbed, she talked half-deliriously about a doll. Almost her last words were, ‘The doll! It’s gone! Oh, Mother, you must find it for Rose.”’

“What did she mean? ” George asked.

“I tried to find out, but Enid was too ill. I thought she said, ‘Important. Very important. Clue—’ ”

At this instant a piercing shriek filled the air. Nancy was on her feet immediately and ran outside in the direction of the sound. George and Mrs. Struthers followed.

A car was driving away from the house with Rose half in, half out, of one of the open back doors. She was struggling with a woman.