Baby lost his hold on the teething ring, and fell on his back. The teething ring stayed up in the air and then by itself moved toward baby's waving hands and let him get a hold of it.
Mabel screeched through her teeth, "Baby's got it, the monster's got it, now baby's got it!" She began to collapse.
"Don't faint," I snapped, "and don't let's play tennis." I was shaking. I reached into the crib. My hands closed around something that put ice-water in my vertebrae. It was a monster.
"It's got fur!" I whispered. I felt some more. "And clammy scales!" I lifted it out of the crib. "And a trunk!" I was determined to save baby. Baby cried!
We got some chairs and sat there for ten minutes close together while baby played with the invisible monster. "I don't know what to do!" I said. "It's alive. Maybe it's poisonous. But it's friendly. Maybe it's another baby!"
"From another dimension," said Mabel.
"Rot," I said; I think I picked that up from the detective in the Saturday Evening Post serial. "Let's keep our heads."
"If baby keeps his," said my friend Mabel.