"Of course!" said the little girl, "you're—why, you're the Toaster!"
"Yes, ma'am," said the little man, with a bow, "at your service, Miss Mary Frances."
"Try me, and see what I can do," went on Toaster Man. "Just put a slice of that bread into my head, and hold me over the fire."
Mary Frances leaned over and gravely put a slice of bread in Toaster. He looked so funny standing there that she wanted to smile, but thought it wouldn't be exactly polite to so helpful a friend. But when he said, "Slide up my collar," in a thick, smothery sort of voice, she laughed aloud before she could stop, but turned the sound into a cough so quickly that Toaster Man looked up at her queerly only a moment; and she pulled the ring up until it held the bread tightly in place.
"Now, lift me up over the fire!" he demanded.
Mary Frances hesitated—she couldn't tell where to take hold of him.
"Never mind my legs," he said, as though he read her thoughts, "I'll see to them," and he folded them up so close that when Mary Frances lifted him up, she could find no sign of them.
"Oh, you'll be burnt!" she cried, as she held what Toaster Man had called his head over the bright fire.