Chapter 1
OnDecember8th,1915,MeggieClearyhadherfourthbirthday.Afterthebreakfastdisheswereputawayhermothersilentlythrustabrownpaperparcelintoherarmsandorderedheroutside.SoMeggiesquatteddownbehindthegorsebushnexttothefrontgateandtuggedimpatiently.Herfingerswereclumsy,thewrappingheavy;itsmelledfaintlyoftheWahinegeneralstore,whichtoldherthatwhateverlayinsidetheparcelhadmiraculouslybeenbought,nothomemadeordonated.
Somethingfineandmistilygoldbegantopokethroughacorner;sheattackedthepaperfaster,peelingitawayinlong,raggedstrips.
"Agnes!Oh,Agnes!"shesaidlovingly,blinkingatthedolllyingthereinatatterednest.
Amiracleindeed.OnlyonceinherlifehadMeggiebeenintoWahine;allthewaybackinMay,becauseshehadbeenaverygoodgirl.Soperchedinthebuggybesidehermother,onherbestbehavior,shehadbeentooexcitedtoseeorremembermuch.ExceptforAgnes,thebeautiful’dollsittingonthestorecounter,dressedinacrinolineofpinksatinwithcreamlacefrillsalloverit.RightthenandthereinhermindshehadchristeneditAgnes,theonlynamesheknewelegantenoughforsuchapeerlesscreature.YetovertheensuingmonthsheryearningafterAgnescontainednothingofhope;Meggiedidn’townadollandhadnoidealittlegirlsanddollsbelongedtogether.Sheplayedhappilywiththewhistlesandslingshotsandbatteredsoldiersherbrothersdiscarded,gotherhandsdirtyandherbootsmuddy.
ItneveroccurredtoherthatAgneswastoplaywith.