“Oh, Sammie! No!”
“Yes, I have! Say, rich people don’t care what they spend for toys!”
“Oh, it must be lovely to be rich,” sighed Lizzie. “But, anyhow, we can wish we had this Woolly Dog.”
“A lot of good that will do!” muttered Sammie. “Come on, we have to go to the store for half a pound of sugar. We haven’t any money for toys.”
“No, I s’pose not,” sighed his sister. “Good-bye, Woolly Dog!” she called back to the toy in the window, waving her hand.
The afternoon passed. Though many children of the neighborhood looked in Mrs. Clark’s window—some of the boys and girls wishing they might buy the Woolly Dog—no one purchased the expensive toy.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. Clark, when night came and she had to close her store without having sold the Woolly Dog. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get the rent money!”
With the coming of night a change took place among the toys. When the store window curtain was pulled down, the doors closed and when Mrs. Clark had gone to bed, wishing she might dream of her son, there was a movement among the Dolls, the Jumping Jacks and the Wooden Animals in the cheap Noah’s Arks.
“I say, Woolly Dog!” called a voice, “are you ready for some fun?”
“Of course I am,” answered the Woolly Dog. “What do you want to do?”