“Oh, no,” returned the other quickly. “You see, we are both lost, you and I, or we shouldn’t be here at all. So what is the use of looking for that peevish chap? He has very little backbone anyway. Very little backbone,” he repeated sadly, while a tear rolled down his crisp, fried cheek.
“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” began Sally. But her companion interrupted her with a great want of manners.
“Oh, nothing has anything to do with anything else here, because everything is lost, more or less. As soon as anything finds itself, it gets away. So will you and so will I and so will the Peppermint Stick.”
“Bless my soul, how very curious! Are you quite sure that you are not all crazy instead of being all lost?” exclaimed Sally saucily.
“Maybe you are crazy, although I don’t know what that means,” replied the other sadly.
“Well, I can’t stop to explain now. It would take too long,” returned the child smartly, “but if you ever come across it, you’ll know. Anyway, if you had your brother here now, you could mop up your tears with him,” and as she spoke, she dexterously flipped away a large, round one that hung trembling on the very end of the Doughnut Man’s stubby nose.
“There you go again! Really, it’s very upsetting when one doesn’t understand a thing you mean. Then there’s the Button Bush. She’s mad again because I came for more buttons. What good are buttons on a bush, anyway? They’ve got to be picked while they’re ripe or else they all go to seed. Really, it’s very unreasonable.”
“I suppose you have a good trade in buttons,” suggested the little girl politely. “But who, pray, is the Peppermint Stick? Is he good to e—” She caught herself hastily, somehow feeling that the Doughnut Man would be displeased by what she had been on the verge of saying. Something under her apron warned her that it must be near lunch time, for her breakfast had been but a light one, and then she was very fond of peppermint.
“Yes, indeed, I have a very good trade,” replied the Doughnut Man. “Only it would be more congenial if the Button Bush would quit giving herself such ridiculous airs. As for the Peppermint Stick, he isn’t good for anything in particular as far as I know. Long ago he was a cane and was hooked on the bough of a Christmas tree. Nobody ate him and he had a bad fracture, the result of being dropped. So in the course of time, he drifted here and the Gloo-Gloos fixed him up. The only thing I don’t like about him is that he is striped. Now I simply abominate stripes, although I adore polka dots. But tastes differ. Perhaps you like stripes?”
“I don’t mind them at all in peppermint,” replied Sally. “And I would show him that I didn’t if I only could get my teeth into him,” she added to herself.