Mrs. Cressey did not answer. She was watching her brother get out of his car. And then she and Donald, at the same time, saw the paper bundle.
“Oh, he has it! He has it!” cried Donald, jumping up and down for joy. A moment later he was in his uncle’s arms and was trying to loosen the paper and string from around the present.
And when he saw the pretty, white Woolly Dog the boy cried:
“Oh, that’s just what I wanted! Now I can have some fun!”
“You mustn’t get it dirty,” warned his mother. “It is a beautiful dog, Teddy,” she said to her brother. “But Donald must not soil it. Be careful—don’t drop it.”
“The Dog will wash. The lady I bought it of said so,” went on Donald’s uncle. “She washed it herself once, she said. I guess Donald won’t hurt it. Let him play with it and have a good time.”
And Donald certainly had a good time with the Woolly Dog. He hugged it close to him, and squeezed it hard, but the Woolly Dog did not mind that, for he was stuffed with soft cotton and could stand a great deal of squeezing.
“He seems to like it,” said Donald’s mother. “You were very kind to remember him, Teddy.”
“I thought of his birthday this morning when I happened to pass a toy store,” and Mr. Blakeley told about walking through Hoyt Street.
Donald thanked his uncle, and then showed him some of the other presents he had received. One was a little toy train of cars, and when Donald was telling his uncle that they would run on a tin track, suddenly the door of the room burst open and in rushed a little golden-haired creature with bright, flashing eyes. She caught sight of the new gift and cried: