At last the afternoon of the party came, and with it arrived the boys and girls with their toys and playthings. The Woolly Dog was given a place of honor, standing on a box in the middle of the table, next to the cake with its blazing candles.
“This party is for my Woolly Dog,” explained Donald to his guests.
“Hurray for the Woolly Dog!” cried Herbert, and the boys and girls gave three cheers.
The Woolly Dog wanted to thank them, but he dared not. However, he tried not to feel proud as all the other toys looked at him. But it was a great honor—all the toys said so later on.
Oh, but such fun as there was at the Woolly Dog’s party! And then, all of a sudden, something happened.
Just how, no one knew, but the Woolly Dog fell over against the party cake and one of the blazing candles set fire to his wool. It began to smoke and singe.
“Oh, your Woolly Dog’s on fire!” shouted Arnold.
“If I only had my toy fire engine I could put it out!” cried Sidney.
But at the word “fire,” Mrs. Cressey rushed in. She saw at once what had happened, and caught up the Woolly Dog. Quickly she rolled him in a thick rug on the floor, thus smothering the flames. The fire was out almost before it started.
But when Mrs. Cressey unrolled the Woolly Dog from the rug he was a sad sight. Underneath, on his stomach, there was a black and burned patch.