“Dear me! This isn’t a very nice place to be shut up in,” thought the Woolly Dog, as he found himself in the umbrella closet. “And what a funny smell,” he went on. “I say,” he called aloud, “are you here, Mr. Clown? I seem to smell you.”
“It’s the rubbers and overshoes you smell,” said a voice. “They are made of rubber as, I suppose, is the Clown you speak of.”
“Oh, I see,” barked the Woolly Dog. “But who are you?” he asked. “I can’t make out where you are?”
“I’m down inside one of these umbrellas,” was the answer. “If you will give it a little jiggle I think I can get out. I’m caught on one of the ribs.”
“One of your ribs!” exclaimed the Woolly Dog.
“No, one of the umbrella ribs. That’s it—thank you,” went on the voice, and, as the Woolly Dog shook the umbrella, out of it crawled a Cat.
“Oh, bow wow! Gurr-r-r-r—rrr!” barked the Woolly Dog. “Oh, a Cat! I must chase you! Dogs always chase Cats! Bow wow!”
“No, don’t chase me,” mewed the Cat. “I am a toy like yourself. I am only a China Cat. Don’t chase me, but hear my sad story.”
CHAPTER VII
IN THE BEEHIVE
The Woolly Dog stopped short on hearing this. He did not want to be unkind, but, as he said, dogs always chased cats, and he was a Dog, even if he was made of lamb’s wool and stuffed with cotton.