Now, can't we, Turly ?" Turly, who was riding from Kimberley to Pretoria on the newly-painted rocking-horse, waved an assent, and Nurse Nancy left the nursery without misgiving.
She was not long gone before Terry began to get impatient with the new dolls.

She had inspected them inside and outside, found what they were made of, satisfied herself as to whether or not their clothes came off and on, tossed up their curls and smoothed them down again, shaken them up and told them to stand up straight, which they promptly refused to do.

At last it seemed that there was nothing more to be done with them.
"Oh, you _are_ stupid!" she exclaimed; "staring with your glassy eyes, always your same pink cheeks, and never saying a word." "Dolls don't talk," said Turly, who was now solemnly engaged in making a play on the floor with a box of soldiers.
"Of course they don't," said Terry.

"That's just what it is.

I hate playing with things that have got no life in them!" "Soldiers aren't alive," said Turly, as one tumbled over and he set it up again, "but I'm having a splendid battle." "Oh, Turly, how can you?
Oh, I do so want things to be alive! Now, do just come over to the window and look down into the yard at Vulcan sitting in his kennel, poor dear, when he is longing to be running all over the world! Oh, I declare, he sees us, and is wagging his tail! Just look at his big eyes and his nose pointed up at us.