The doll was well past her prime when she showed up on Mom's doorstep. Sadly, yours truly couldn't see much beyond the damage. Fortunately, Mom could and did. Then again, she has always been able to see beyond the first impression.
There were large gaps at every seam, and the crazing on the face was so bad I never thought she would survive. There were sections of compo missing from the back of the head.
Pessimist, that's me.
Eventually, after much internet research and a couple of trips to the hardware and beauty supply stores, I took on the project of closing the gaps, sanding the rough edges and sealing the crazing. (Really fine nail buffing blocks did amazing things with the back of the doll's head.)
Then I dropped the ball and didn't finish her ... just left a somewhat smooth, much cleaner doll in my living room.
I do love ACE hardware stores ... our local store had a supply of Benjamin Moore paint samples, 2 oz. bottles, for a song. So, hobby paint sprayer, a dozen bottles of paint, and two days later, she was more or less restored to her former painted glory. I say somewhat because she didn't turn out to be her original color (neither complexion nor hair), but she was finally finished.
The moral of the story?
Little girls who love dolls seem to love them even as they get older. Phoebe, as she has been dubbed, has been returned to her rightful owner.
I think she is as loved now as she was by her first owner.