Jane had run into the sewing room in her flight to get away from Donald and keep her brother’s birthday Dog. And in the sewing room were needles, pins, spools of thread and many things such as were in the window of Mrs. Clark’s store.
“Well, I feel quite at home here,” thought the Woolly Dog, as he looked around and saw the needles and pins. But these were not what Jane wanted. She found what she was looking for in her mother’s sewing basket—a pair of sharp, shining scissors.
Jane picked up the scissors and sat down on the floor with the Woolly Dog in her lap. There was a serious look on the little girl’s face.
“Now I see where it is,” she whispered to herself. “Now I find out all ’bout you!”
The Woolly Dog saw the points of the sharp, shining scissors in the chubby hands of Jane coming nearer and nearer to him.
“Oh, what dreadful thing is going to happen now?” thought the Woolly Dog. “Can she be going to cut me?”
He wanted to close his glass eyes, but he dared not. He wanted to howl in terror, but he dared not. He wanted to bark and scare little Jane, but he dared not.
He dared do none of these things. He dared not pretend to come to life while the eyes of Jane were upon him. And she was looking at him closely.
Jane turned the Woolly Dog over on his back in her lap. She opened and closed the scissors with a clashing sound.
“This is the end of me!” thought the poor Woolly Dog. “Oh, if I were only back in the store with the poor toys!”