Well, that’s what was happening to the Woolly Dog. He was being tickled on the inside!
How he wanted to laugh, in spite of his pain, but he dared not.
“Where is it? I wonder where it is?” said Jane over and over again, as her fingers wiggled in among the wads of cotton stuffing.
Then, suddenly, the door of the sewing room opened and in came Donald. He gave one look at what Jane was doing, and cried:
“I’ve found her! Oh, Mother, I’ve found her!”
“Where is she?” asked his mother, for they had been searching all over the house for the mischievous little girl. “Where is she, Donald?”
“She’s in the sewing room. And, oh, Mother! she’s killed my Woolly Dog. She’s killed him dead! Oh! Oh!” And Donald burst into tears at the sight of his birthday toy.
CHAPTER V
A LOST DIAMOND
“Donald! Donald! What do you mean? What has Jane done?” asked Mrs. Cressey, as she followed closely after her little boy and entered the room where Jane had hidden.
“Look! Just look!” sobbed Donald, with the tears streaming down his cheeks. He was getting to be a big boy he thought, and hated to cry, but this time he just couldn’t help it. To have his new birthday Woolly Dog cut up so soon after he had received it from Uncle Teddy! Wasn’t it sad?