“You shouldn’t be drawing things like that,” she says to Nellie. “Make something pretty instead.” She grabs Nellie’s drawing and crumples it into a ball.

“What did you do that for?” Nellie protests.

“Draw something nice,” Stephie says. “Something for Auntie Alma.”

But Nellie doesn’t feel like drawing anymore.

“Come with me and I’ll show you something,” she says to Stephie, pulling her by the hand into the front room. There’s an old-fashioned overstuffed couch with a stiff back, a little round table with a crocheted cloth, and armchairs with puffy cushions. There’s a little white organ, too. That’s what Nellie wants Stephie to see.

“A piano,” she says, “there is a piano.”

“That’s not a piano, it’s an organ,” Stephie corrects her. “You remember, we had one at school.”

“Who cares?” Nellie says, sitting down on the organ bench. Her short legs just barely allow her to reach the pedals.

“I’m allowed to play it. Auntie Alma said so.”

She starts playing a children’s song, while Stephie investigates everything in the room. Against one wall, she sees a glass-paned cupboard filled with knickknacks: a little box decorated with all kinds of seashells, a porcelain basket full of china rosebuds, two statuettes-a shepherd and shepherdess-and many other treasures.

There’s even a small china dog. It’s brown and white, with a gold-tipped, rather than a black, nose. It has a blue collar and is standing with its head cocked.

“Nellie,” Auntie Alma calls from the kitchen. Nellie stops playing, hops down from the organ bench, and runs out of the room.

Stephie remains mesmerized by the china dog. It’s adorable and she longs to hold it. She notices a brass key in the cupboard door. She turns it, opens the door, and carefully removes the dog. The china feels cool in the palm of her hand. She inspects the dog from every angle, stroking it gently.