Ever since I was a child, a very small girl, I was fascinated by dolls. Despite which, I never did have a doll, not until I became much, much older; in fact an adult woman and mother of young children. Since then I have collected dolls. I'm not a purist, if a doll attracts me because of its face, its costume, I enjoy it. I do have antique French and German dolls in my collection, but I have never focused primarily on them, though I do like 'fashion dolls' of the 19th Century. When living in Japan I loved Japanese ceremonial dolls and acquired those at antique shops in Tokyo and Yokohama.

When I acquired Abigail early this month I was surprised to see her within a few steps of entering a group antique shop in New Hampshire. She agreed to come home with us.

When we were paying for her, an elderly woman standing nearby surprised me by asking what I planned to name her. I had never named any of the dolls I've collected over the decades, but I quickly responded 'Jennifer'. In reconsideration now, however, Jennifer doesn't seem to reflect her too well, but Abigail does in my opinion.

I've no idea when she was made, how she was made, and by whom. There is no signature on her back or the back of her head, her neck or anywhere I can see. Not that it matters, but it is a curious thing since dollmakers tend to identify themselves with pride on their products. She is large, a pudgy little girl with aspirations toward becoming a chatelaine when she grows up. She already possesses some of the outer manifestations of a well-bred lady, and is accoutered with fine clothing and jewellery and a silver mirror.

A few days ago I decided to tackle what I'd been putting off; undressing her to examine her more intimately, to wash her clothing and her as well, and gently brush her hair. Washing her clothing did extract some dust, though it's difficult to determine how old the garments are. There is hand-crocheting, there is lace, there is fine lawn cotton and her clothing was expertly made to fit her precisely. I was not able to entirely remove waterstains, but the end result is pleasing enough.

I carefully ironed the garments once they had dried in the sun, finding that some of the ribbon-work was fraying; these things must be handled with great care. The lace flower that once sat on top of her crocheted cap completely disintegrated; I carefully snipped it away.

I took my time re-dressing her. She is articulated so her arms and legs move, as does her head. She has a Mona Lisa smile; slight and discreet. Her eyes are large, luminous and beautiful. The careful manner in which she was designed and created closely mimics reality. Her finger have fingerpads and creases where they should be on her hands, along with fingernails, and the same is true for her feet.

She is quite the lady, in fact.