“I haven’t seen him for a couple of hours,” answered the Policeman.
“Last me see him,” grunted the Indian, “him go down garden path to big house.”
“Well, I think something must have happened to him, for he is always the first to the dinner table,” said the General, anxiously.
“I think so, too,” put in the Lady of Fashion, “for he knew we were going to have a strawberry for dinner, and that would bring him, if nothing else did.”
“Just as soon as we have finished dinner I think some of us had better go out and look for him,” said the General.
So, as soon as the meal was over, the Teenie Weenies started out to search for the Dunce.
The Indian pointed out the house near which he had last seen the Dunce, and crawling under the door the Teenie Weenies began to look all about the place.
“Listen,” cried the Cook, as he stepped over a safety pin, “I thought I heard him call.”
“Help—h-e-l-p!” came a voice faintly from the next room.
“That’s him—that’s the Dunce’s voice,” cried the Sailor, and running through the doorway, they saw the tip of the Dunce’s cap bobbing up and down over the top of a sideboard.