"Did they have any humps?" inquired the Highlander with an air of great interest.
Dorothy went off again into a burst of laughter at this. "He's really the most ignorant little creature I ever saw," she said.
"I thought they was something to ride on," said the Highlander, sulkily; "otherwise, I say, let 'em keep out of arks!" The rest of the Caravan evidently sided with him in this opinion, and after staring at Dorothy for a moment with great disfavor they all called out "Old Proudie!" and solemnly walked off in a row as before.
"I believe I shall have a fit if I meet them again," said Dorothy to herself, laughing till her eyes were full of tears. "They're certainly the foolishest things I ever saw," and with this she walked away through the shop, and was just beginning to look at the toys again, when she came suddenly upon an old dame sitting contentedly in the shop in a great arm-chair. She was eating porridge out of a bowl in her lap, and her head was so close to the edge of the shelf that Dorothy almost walked into her cap.
"Drat the toys!" cried the old dame, starting so violently that her spectacles fell off her nose into the porridge. "Drat the new-fangled things!"—and here she aimed a blow at Dorothy with her spoon. "They're enough to scare folks out of their senses. Give me the old-fashioned kind—deaf and dumb and blind and stiff"—but by this time Dorothy, almost frightened out of her wits, had run away and was hiding behind a doll's sofa.
"She's a nice person to have charge of a shop," she exclaimed indignantly, as she listened to the old dame scolding to herself in the distance. "The idea of not knowing human persons when you see them! Of course, being so small is rather unusual, and it's really quite dangerous, you know," she went on, giving a little shiver at the thought of what might have happened. "Just fancy being wrapped up in a piece of stiff paper by mistake—shrieking wouldn't do the least good because, of course, she's deaf as anything—"
"How much are you a dozen?" said a voice, and Dorothy, looking around, saw that it was a Dancing-Jack in the shop-window speaking to her. He was a gorgeous creature, with bells on the seams of his clothes and with arms and legs of different colors, and he was lounging in an easy attitude with his right leg thrown over the top of a toy livery-stable and his left foot in a large ornamental tea-cup; but as he was fastened to a hook by a loop in the top of his hat, Dorothy didn't feel in the least afraid of him.
"Thank you," she replied with much dignity, "I'm not a dozen at all. I'm a single person. That sounds kind of unmarried," she thought to herself, "but it's the exact truth."
