"Dear me!" cried the grandmother, starting from her chair. "Dear, dear me! Who is hurt? What has happened? Are any bones broken?"
"Oh, no! Madam," cried the bear, rising with surprising agility for one of his size; "it's nothing! nothing at all, I assure you. I—I was only jumping and changing my feet. But I cannot do it!" he added, in an aggrieved tone, to Toto. "It isn't possible, you know, for a fellow of my build to—a—do that sort of thing. You shouldn't, really—"
"Oh, Bruin! Bruin!" cried Toto, wiping the tears from his eyes, as he leaned against the dresser in a paroxysm of merriment. "I didn't mean you to do that! Look here! this is the way. You jump—so! and change your feet—so! as you come down. There, look at Coon; he has the idea, perfectly!"
The astute Coon, in truth, seeing Bruin's error, had stood quietly in his place till he saw Toto perform the mystic manœuvre of "jump and change feet," and had then begun to practise it with a quiet grace and ease, as if he had done it all his life.
"Now, then, attention all! Forward and back!" And he played a lively air on his fiddle.—Page 97.
The squirrel, meanwhile, had obeyed the first part of the order by jumping to the top of the clock, where he sat inspecting his little black feet with an air of comical perplexity.
"Change them, eh?" he said. "What's the matter with them? They'll do very well yet awhile."
"Don't be absurd, Cracker!" said Toto, rather severely. "Come down and take your place at once! Now, then, attention all! Forward and back!" and he played a lively air on his fiddle.