The big gardener, for he it was who was going to give Carlo clean straw, examined what he had raked out. He saw something pink, and, looking at it, he said:
“Dear me, what a funny bone! Where could that have come from?�
He thought the Sawdust Doll was a bone that Carlo had hidden in the kennel.
“Why! Why, it isn’t a bone after all!� exclaimed the gardener, as he picked it up and looked at it more carefully. “It’s a doll! A Sawdust Doll! I wonder where she came from!� and he turned the toy over and over in his hands.
CHAPTER VII
IN THE RAG-BAG
The Sawdust Doll felt much better when the gardener had picked her out of the straw that he had raked from Carlo’s kennel. For, though the Sawdust Doll was only make-believe alive, she knew when real persons handled her. Surely she ought to, for she had been handled enough times since she was first made in the workshop of Santa Claus.
“Thank goodness some one has me in charge besides that fuzzy little dog!� said the Sawdust Doll to herself. “I don’t like him at all, though I don’t suppose he really meant to be mean to me. But I’m glad the gardener has me. I hope he likes dolls, and doesn’t throw me into the ash-barrel!�
The gardener was not going to do anything like that. He knew a good, new doll when he saw one. And as he looked at the rosily dressed toy in his hands, and then glanced toward the house, the man shook his head.
And the Doll stared at the man.
“I think some of the boys must have been playing tricks on the girls at the party,� said the gardener. “Some of the boys must have hidden this doll out in the straw. I’m glad I found her. I’ll take her back. Dorothy will know to which little girl she belongs.�