"Oh, ho!" exclaimed Dick's Daddy, when he came home and heard the story. "A Rocking Horse with a broken leg! Of course I'll take him to the toy hospital."
And, not waiting for his supper, lest the hospital be closed, Daddy wrapped the White Rocking Horse in a sheet, put him once more in the back of the automobile and started off.
A little later the White Rocking Horse found himself in the toy hospital. It was not such a place as you have seen if you have ever been in the buildings where sick people are made well. There were no beds and no doctors and no queer smells. Yes, wait a minute, there were queer smells of glue and paste, but the White Rocking Horse rather liked them.
Instead of a doctor there was a jolly-looking man, with a long apron, and a square, paper cap.
"Can you mend the broken leg of this Rocking Horse?" asked Dick's father. The hospital toy doctor looked at the White Rocking Horse.
"I shall have to put a new piece in his leg," he said. "It is badly splintered half way down."
"Will it be as strong as before, so my little boy can ride?" asked
Daddy.
"It will be even stronger," answered the hospital toy doctor. "I will have him ready for you in a few days; perhaps tomorrow."
"And will the broken leg show?" asked Daddy.
"Hardly any," was the reply. "I will paint it over so you will never know it."