Her
neat white socks had slipped in crinkled folds around her little black
boots, and the pink of her legs was visible for three or four inches
below the hem of her brown velvet Sunday dress. Down her back
cascaded a mane of carefully curled hair, sparkling in the sun; not
red and not gold, but somewhere in between. The white taffeta bow
which held the front curls back from her face hung draggled and
limp; dust smeared her dress. She held the doll's clothes tightly in
one hand, the other pushing vainly at Hughie.