Uncle Teddy himself, who had followed Mrs. Cressey, came into the room. They had searched all over the house for Jane, and at last her mother had thought perhaps the little girl might have hidden under the couch. Or, rather, it was Donald who spoke of it. He said:
“Maybe she’s there. Sometimes she hides there when we’re playing hide-and-seek.”
“We’ll look,” answered his mother.
So, back to this room they had gone and there, of course, they had found Jane.
At the sight of the sharp, shining scissors and the cut dog lying in the little girl’s lap, Mrs. Cressey exclaimed:
“Oh, Jane! what are you doing?”
“I—I—now, I want to find the Woolly Dog’s bark,” explained Jane.
“His bark?” cried her mother.
“Yes. I want to see if he’s got a bow-wow inside him.”
“He hasn’t,” said Donald, chokingly. “There isn’t any bark in my Woolly Dog. He doesn’t even squeak, does he, Uncle Teddy?”