I kept it on an oak table under the sash of stained glass windows in my bedroom. Dainty things had always been at peril in my large hands, and the dollhouse was for me to admire but never to touch. But the house was enclosed in a glass case and I was never allowed to touch the family inside - indeed, I was not even permitted to touch the glass case, for fear of leaving smudges. It was a magical miniature world, with beautiful tiny porcelain dolls, furniture, even paintings and chandeliers and rugs all made to scale. When I was a little girl, my father bought me a priceless handcrafted dollhouse. And knowing the truth, judge me if you dare. Those of you who remain below will here come to know the true story. Now I have gone to Him, the only judge whose verdict matters, and accepted His pronouncement on my soul. Because of ignorance, I have been judged. Cruelty comes in many forms - ignorance is one of them. Had others not decided to tell my story for their own gain, the secrets of the Foxworths would have been buried in my grave with me. To be opened twenty years after my death. Addendum to the last will and testament of Olivia Winfield Foxworth.
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