Page 290 - Neglected Arabia Vol 2

A Lifeless Leader
Mrs. Louis P. Dame
I are all sorts of dolls, big dolls, middle-sized dolls, little dolls, tiny
AM a doll. Just as there all sorts of ]>coplc in the world so there
dolls; rich dolls, poor dolls, rag dolls; dolls too ornamental except
to be gazed upon; pretty dolls to be friends with; comfy dolls to be
loved and hugged. 1 am an ordinary doll. But in another sense I am not
ordinary at all. 1 am a missionary doll; an educational missionary and
1 am proud of the fact.
I do not know where 1 was born nor how 1 came into being but my
first recollections are of being in a big shop with hundreds and hundreds
of other dolls and with all sorts of toys and playthings to delight the heart
of any American child.
I was purchased one day with a number of other dolls by a fair-haired
young lady. She belonged to a Young Woman’s Mission Band and she
had a Sunday School class. The Band was planning to send a box to
Arabia and she decided to have her Sunday School class dress some dolls
to send with it.
So one evening we dolls found ourselves in a merry group of busy
girls, laughing, chattering and sewing, making dresses, bonnets, and other
things necessary for our wardrobes. While they sewed the fair-haired
young lady told them about Arabia and the people there and the work the
missionaries were doing and 1 learned quite a bit about the land to which
I was to be sent.
When I was all dressed in my new dollies and the lillle Sunday School
girl was lying on my blue bonnet to match my nice new dress she kissed
me and whispered, “You must make some little girl in Arabia happy.”
And I resolved I would do my best.
Then we were all bundled up in cloths and girls’ dresses and little
blankets and other things packed in a box. After a long train ride we
arrived at the Board rooms in New York, where we were re|>aeked in a
big wooden box full of hospital supplies and then were trundled off to a
big ship. The journey to Arabia was a long tedious time of rollings and £
joltings and transhipments but it was over finally and one day we heard
the scrunching of a nail-puller as the top of our box was being taken off
and then the bright Arabian sunshine streamed in.
“Oh! What lovely dolls!” exclaimed a voice, “My, won’t lots of little
girls be happy this Christmas in Bahrain!” And I thrilled, remembering
my mission.
We were unpicked and put on a shelf anti exclaimed over and admired
and it was all very thrilling and pleasant after our long dull journey. We
lay on the shelf a number of days, each of us wishing that Christmas would
come soon so that our real adventures would begin.
Suddenly one day the*door opened and there was Mrs. Dame with a
suitcase in one hand and a list and a pencil in the other. She began to
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