Chapter X: A Strange Discovery

Donald’s mother slowly turned over the Woolly Dog. She looked carefully at the under side of his stomach.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “it’s the same Dog. I know my stitches very well. This is Donald’s toy! I suppose you won’t mind my taking it?” she asked.

“Oh, not at all,” answered Mrs. Ward. “Frank found him in a snow bank——”

“Just where Donald lost him off his sled, I suppose!” exclaimed Mrs. Cressey.

“And he brought the toy home here,” went on Mrs. Ward. “Frank is too big for such playthings, and he often said he wished he knew to whom the Dog belonged. I’m so glad you have found him.”

“Donald will be glad, also,” said Mrs. Cressey.

She talked a little longer, arranging a day for Mrs. Ward to come and wash, and then Donald’s mother said:

“I want to reward Frank in some way. I know he is fond of reading, for he told me so one day when he was doing errands for me. I have some books I’d like to give him.”

“That will please him,” said Mrs. Ward. “He likes books much better than a Woolly Dog.”

“Well, everything seems to be turning out for the best,” thought the Woolly Dog, as Mrs. Cressey took him home. “If I could get rid of that ticklish feeling inside me I’d be very happy. But then one mustn’t complain of small troubles. I’ve gotten over some big ones—the beehive and the snow bank.”

Donald was very glad to get his Woolly Dog back.

“Oh, look, Jane!” he cried when his mother gave him his lost birthday plaything. “My Woolly Dog has come home!”

“Where was he?” asked Jane.

Mrs. Cressey told where she had, by the merest accident, found the Woolly Dog, and Donald and his sister smoothed out his rumpled woolly coat, for he had been sadly mussed when the Rat dragged him along in the closet.

“Oh, Don, I know what we ought to do!” cried Jane.

“What?” asked her brother.

“We ought to have a little play party for your Woolly Dog,” went on Jane. “Always when somebody comes back after they been away they have a party.”

“Yes, that’ll be fun,” answered the little boy.

The children ran to their mother.

“May we have a party?” begged Donald.

“For his Woolly Dog,” explained Jane. “He ought to have a party because he was lost and now he’s home again.”

“Just a little party,” begged Donald.

“Oh, I guess so!” laughed Mrs. Cressey.

And so the party was arranged for. After some talk Mrs. Cressey suggested that it would be nice to make it a “toy party”—that is, each boy and girl who came should bring his or her favorite toy. And when this was told to Donald and Jane they clapped their hands in delight.

The invitations were sent out. Dorothy was to come with her Sawdust Doll and Dick with his White Rocking Horse. Sidney would bring his Calico Clown, Herbert his Monkey on a Stick, Madeline her Candy Rabbit, Arnold his Tin Soldier and Mirabell her Lamb on Wheels. There were to be other toys—the China Cat, the Stuffed Elephant and many more.

“Oh, what a fine time we’ll have!” laughingly cried Jane.

“And there’s to be a cake with candles on!” exclaimed Donald. “For, as the Woolly Dog was my birthday present, this is a birthday party—sort of.”

At last the afternoon of the party came, and with it arrived the boys and girls with their toys and playthings. The Woolly Dog was given a place of honor, standing on a box in the middle of the table, next to the cake with its blazing candles.

“This party is for my Woolly Dog,” explained Donald to his guests.

“Hurray for the Woolly Dog!” cried Herbert, and the boys and girls gave three cheers.

The Woolly Dog wanted to thank them, but he dared not. However, he tried not to feel proud as all the other toys looked at him. But it was a great honor—all the toys said so later on.

Oh, but such fun as there was at the Woolly Dog’s party! And then, all of a sudden, something happened.

Just how, no one knew, but the Woolly Dog fell over against the party cake and one of the blazing candles set fire to his wool. It began to smoke and singe.

“Oh, your Woolly Dog’s on fire!” shouted Arnold.

“If I only had my toy fire engine I could put it out!” cried Sidney.

But at the word “fire,” Mrs. Cressey rushed in. She saw at once what had happened, and caught up the Woolly Dog. Quickly she rolled him in a thick rug on the floor, thus smothering the flames. The fire was out almost before it started.

But when Mrs. Cressey unrolled the Woolly Dog from the rug he was a sad sight. Underneath, on his stomach, there was a black and burned patch.

“Oh, I shall die! I know I shall die!” thought the Woolly Dog. “This is certainly the end of me!”

Donald saw what had happened to his plaything.

“Oh, my poor Woolly Dog!” he cried. “He’s no good any more!”

“Oh, yes, I can fix him,” said Mrs. Cressey. “I have a piece of white lamb’s wool up in the sewing room. I’ll cut off the burned part and sew on a new piece. Then your Dog will be as good as ever.”

“May we come up and watch you fix him?” asked Mirabell, who owned a lamb on wheels which had the same kind of wool that was on the Dog.

“Yes, come up to the sewing room,” answered Mrs. Cressey.

With her scissors she cut away the burned wool. The Dog was brave. He never uttered a whimper or a cry as the scissors went snip—snip.

But Mrs. Cressey suddenly exclaimed:

“Oh! Oh, my! What’s this?”

“Did you cut yourself?” asked Donald.

“No. But look what I found inside your Woolly Dog!” answered his mother. “My lost diamond ring! It has been inside the Dog all this while! My ring must have slipped off my finger when I was sewing up your Dog the time Jane cut him, and I sewed my diamond up in the cotton stuffing. Oh, how glad I am! My lost diamond ring is found!”

And there it was, sparkling like a rainbow inside the Woolly Dog. Mrs. Cressey put the ring on her finger, a happy smile was on her face, and she hugged the Woolly Dog.

“I must telephone Daddy,” she said, and when Mr. Cressey heard the good news he, too, was glad.

Then Donald’s mother put the new piece of wool in place of the burned patch, she sewed the Dog together again and gave him to Donald.

“Now we’ll finish the party!” shouted the little boy.

Once again the Woolly Dog was placed in the middle of the table, but this time far enough away from the blazing candles on the cake to be safe. The Calico Clown looked strangely at the Dog. Perhaps the Calico Clown remembered the time his trousers were burned by a gas jet in the toy store.

“Hurray for the Woolly Dog!” cried the children.

“And hurray for Mother’s diamond ring!” shouted Donald.

That night, when the party was over, the Woolly Dog was placed in the playroom with the other toys.

“What has happened to you?” asked the Celluloid Doll. “You look different, somehow or other.”

“I feel different,” was the reply.

“Perhaps it’s the new piece of wool that was sewed on him,” said the Jack-in-the-Box, after the Dog had told of his adventure.

“No, it doesn’t seem to be that,” said the Celluloid Doll.

“I know what makes me look different,” said the Woolly Dog. “It’s because that ticklish feeling is gone. All the while, after Jane cut me open and I was sewed up, I had the queerest feeling. It was as though I itched or tickled on the inside.”

“What made it?” asked the Jumping Jack.

“It was the diamond ring,” answered the Woolly Dog. “That ring inside me kept tickling me all the while. Now that it’s out I no longer feel tickled.”

“That’s good,” said the other toys.

“And I am very happy,” went on the Woolly Dog. “Do you think I shall ever be put in a book?” he asked the Jumping Jack.

“Maybe,” answered the Jumping Jack.

And the Woolly Dog was put in a book. This book is the story of his adventures, and I hope you like it.

THE END

THE STORY LADY SERIES

By GEORGENE FAULKNER

Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself

What child does not love to hear again and again these charming and thrilling tales that have been handed down through the ages from generation to generation—the best liked and the most famous of the world’s myths, legends and fairy lore about animals, birds, witches, fairies, giants, dwarfs and beloved heroes and heroines from many different countries. These are the stories that children read and re-read with wonder and delight. In these volumes they are told in simple, charming language by Georgene Faulkner, known by thousands of youngsters and grown-ups as “The Story Lady.”

_THE STORY LADY BOOKS_

SQUEAKY AND THE SCARE BOX
THE FLYING SHIP
THE SNOW MAIDEN
THE GOLDEN FISH
THE GINGERBREAD BOY
THE THREE BEARS
THE LITTLE RED HEN AND THE FOX

GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK

THE HONEY BUNCH BOOKS

By HELEN LOUISE THORNDYKE

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations Drawn by

WALTER S. ROGERS

Honey Bunch is a dainty, thoughtful little girl, and to know her is to take her to your heart at once.

Little girls everywhere will want to discover what interesting experiences she is having wherever she goes.

HONEY BUNCH: JUST A LITTLE GIRL
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE CITY
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS ON THE FARM
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE SEASHORE
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST LITTLE GARDEN
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS IN CAMP
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST AUTO TOUR
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST TRIP ON THE OCEAN
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST TRIP WEST
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST SUMMER ON AN ISLAND
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST TRIP TO THE GREAT LAKES
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST TRIP IN AN AIRPLANE
HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE ZOO

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Notes

pg 64 Changed: diamong ring was highly prized
to: diamond ring was highly prized