About
As I write this, I have before me on my desk, propped up against the telephone, an old rag doll. Dear old Raggedy Ann!
The same Raggedy Ann with which my mother played when a child.
There she sits, a trifle loppy and loose-jointed, looking me squarely in the face in a straightforward, honest manner, a twinkle where her shoe-button eyes reflect the electric light.
Evidently Raggedy has been to a "tea party" today, for her face is covered with chocolate.
She smiles happily and continuously.
True, she has been nibbled by mice, who have made nests out of the soft cotton with which she has been stuffed, but Raggedy smiled just as broadly when the mice nibbled at her, for her smile is painted on.
What adventures you must have had, Raggedy!
What joy and happiness you have brought into this world!
And no matter what treatment you have received, how patient you have been!
What lessons of kindness and fortitude you might teach could you but talk; you with your wisdom of fifty-nine years
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