THE STORY OF A WOOLLY DOG

“Now, I’m All Right,” Laughed the Clown.

The Story of a Woolly Dog.

Frontispiece—(Page 19)

MAKE BELIEVE STORIES (Trade Mark Registered)

THE STORY OF A WOOLLY DOG BY LAURA LEE HOPE Author of “The Story of a Sawdust Doll,” “The Story of a Stuffed Elephant,” “The Bobbsey Twins Series,” “The Six Little Bunker Series,” “The Bunny Brown Series,” etc. ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY L. SMITH NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1923, by GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Story of a Woolly Dog

CHAPTER I POOR TOYS

“Well, he certainly is the finest toy in my little shop, but what good does that do if I can’t sell him? His wool is very soft, and he looks so natural that I can almost hear him bark. But, oh dear! if I don’t sell him—or sell some of the toys soon—I can’t pay my rent and I’ll be turned out! Oh, if my boy Jimmie would only come home from the sea with the gold he said he’d bring to me!”

A sad-faced, poor, little, old lady moved slowly about a poor little store on a side street. In the small show window were[Pg 2] a few notions—pins, needles and thread, and a few toys.

On a shelf near the window were other toys. But they were a very poor and cheap lot, made to sell to poor children who had only a few pennies. There were dolls that cost five cents—dolls with only a thin little calico dress on, and nothing else. There were jumping jacks that could be had for as little as three pennies, and there were two-cent tops and one-cent marbles.

“The Woolly Dog is the best toy of all,” went on Mrs. Clark, who kept the little store. “The agent said I could sell him for a good sum and make money on him. Certainly he is a fine toy and I did not have to pay very much, and, since I gave him a bath and cleaned him, he looks good enough to be in a rich store.

“But, oh dear! I don’t know! If I don’t sell something soon I don’t know where I’m going to make up the rent money! Oh, this is a hard world!”

[Pg 3]

Poor Mrs. Clark sat down on a stool behind the counter and waited for customers to come in. But there was little buying that day. Christmas had passed, and though she had done pretty well in trade around the holidays, now but few children, or grown-ups, either, came in to spend their money. Perhaps they had spent it all for Christmas gifts.

“If I could only sell the Woolly Dog!” sighed Mrs. Clark again, and she wiped some tears from her eyes, for she was very sad and in trouble.

“I wish I could help her,” thought the Woolly Dog to himself. He did not dare speak out loud, though he could talk in toy language when no real persons were near by. “Yes, I wish I could help her, but I can’t go out and sell myself, or I would. This isn’t the kind of a store where rich customers will come.”

The Woolly Dog looked around at the poor toys on the same shelf with him. He was the most expensive of the lot.

[Pg 4]

As Mrs. Clark had said, some time ago, when she bought her little stock of toys from an agent, he had offered her this Woolly Dog.

“It’s a sample, Mrs. Clark,” said the man. “I have carried him around in my satchel for a long time, and his white wool is rather dirty. But he isn’t broken, and if you were to wash him with soap and water he’d be as clean as a whistle.”

“Speaking of whistles,” said Mrs. Clark, “the last ones I got from you didn’t whistle loud enough, some boys said. They brought them back and I had to return them their pennies.”

“Well, I have some louder whistles now,” went on the agent. “And I’ll allow you for the ones that didn’t sell. But what about this Woolly Dog? I’ll let you have him cheap. You can wash him, put him in the window, and I’m sure you’ll sell him. You should ask a good price, too, for this is one of the most expensive toys on the market.”

[Pg 5]

“All right, I’ll take him,” said Mrs. Clark.

And so she had bought the Woolly Dog. She had washed him, putting him right into a tub with soap and warm water.

“Oh, that was a terrible time for me!” said the Woolly Dog, telling of it afterward to his friend, the three-cent Jumping Jack. “I surely thought I would drown, and the soap got in my eyes! Burr-r-r-r!”

“If that had happened to me all my paint would have washed off,” said the three-cent Jumping Jack, one of the very cheapest of the poor toys.

You see the toys could talk among themselves when no children or grown-ups were there to listen.

“Well, I felt dreadfully about it for a while,” went on the Woolly Dog. “But after Mrs. Clark had washed me nicely she put me in the warm sun and I dried out.”

“You are quite white and fluffy now,” said the Jumping Jack.

[Pg 6]

“Yes, I believe I am considered a very good sort of toy,” admitted the Woolly Dog, trying not to speak proudly. “I am made of real lamb’s wool, you know.”

“I can see that,” put in a Calico-Dressed Doll, who sold for five cents—very little for a doll, I’m sure. “It is very nice of you to stay here among such poor toys as we are,” went on the Doll.

“Oh, I think it is quite jolly here!” barked the Woolly Dog. “It’s such a cute little store, you know!”

“But Mrs. Clark does hardly any business,” said the Jumping Jack. “I was one of the lot of a dozen she bought from the agent, and there are eight of us left. She’ll never get rich selling toys, I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid not,” agreed the Woolly Dog. “But if she could sell me and get the price I ought to bring, she would have several dollars. I ought to be sold for five dollars, but I heard the agent say she could let me go for three.”

[Pg 7]

“Three dollars! Think of that!” exclaimed the Calico-Dressed Doll. “That’s almost a million, isn’t it?”

“Almost, but not quite,” answered the Woolly Dog, and again he did not speak proudly as some toys might have done.

So it had come about that the Woolly Dog was among the poor toys in Mrs. Clark’s little store—the best toy of all, it might be said of the Woolly Dog. Mrs. Clark knew this, and she hoped the Woolly Dog would soon sell, so she might get enough money to make up the full amount for the rent, which must be paid in a day or two.

“I need just that three dollars the Woolly Dog would bring,” sighed the poor old lady. “Or if my son Jimmie would come home, he would pay the rent.”

But Jimmie was a sailor lad and at this time was far away, on a sort of treasure hunt. He hoped to come back with gold to give his mother, and he had written[Pg 8] some letters in which he said he might be home almost any day now.

“But my eyes are weary watching for him,” sighed Mrs. Clark.

She moved about her store, looking at the few things she had to sell. After her husband had died she had started the store. For a time she did fairly well, but times grew hard and she lived in a poor neighborhood, where few people had money to spend on toys. They bought needles, thread and pins of Mrs. Clark, but there is not much money to be had selling these.

“I think I’ll put the Woolly Dog back in the window,” said Mrs. Clark to herself, after dusting her store for the day. “He will be seen better there, but I don’t like to keep him in the window too long, for the sun might take the curl out of his wool. But I’ll put him there this afternoon and leave him there to-morrow. Maybe someone will see him and buy him. True, I’ve had him in the window before[Pg 9] and no one even came in to ask how much he would cost. But I’ll try it again.”

The Woolly Dog was glad to hear Mrs. Clark say this, for he liked being in the show window. There was more to be seen from the window—he could watch the children playing in the street and hear their laughter.

Of course he liked being on the shelf with the other toys, but he felt, deep down inside him, that it would be best for him to be sold so Mrs. Clark could get the money for her rent.

“Into the window you go, my friend!” said the storekeeper lady, as she patted the Woolly Dog to get out of his coat any dust that might make him look dingy. “Into the window you go, and may someone buy you!”

Not long after the Dog had been placed in the window with the needles, pins and spools of thread, a boy and a girl pressed their little noses up against the glass, making them look quite flat.

[Pg 10]

“Oh, see the new dog in the window!” cried the girl.

“’Tisn’t a new dog. I’ve seen him before,” said the boy.

“Well, he looks new to me,” went on the girl. “I wonder how much he costs.”

“I guess more’n a dollar, Lizzie.”

“Oh, he couldn’t!” gasped the little girl. “No toy could cost that much—not ever, Sammie!”

“Pooh! You just ought to see some of the toys in the stores on Main Street!” replied Sammie. “Why, I’ve seen price tickets on ’em marked—ten dollars!”

“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.”

[Pg 11]

“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?”

[Pg 12]

“Of course I am,” answered the Woolly Dog. “What do you want to do?”

“Will you give me a ride on your back?” asked a little Rubber Clown, who had a whistle in his back that squeaked when you squeezed him.

“Surely, I’ll give you a ride on my back,” said the Woolly Dog kindly. “Where are you?”

“Up on the shelf over your head. Wait a minute and I’ll jump down,” said the Rubber Clown.

“Oh, now for some fun!” exclaimed the Calico-Dressed Doll.

[Pg 13]

CHAPTER II A RICH MAN

“Get ready down there! I’m coming!” called the Rubber Clown to the Woolly Dog. “Is your back strong enough to hold me if I jump?”

“Indeed it is,” answered the Dog. “And I’ll give you a fine ride around the show window.”

If you have read some of the other books in these Make Believe Stories you know that the toys told about could pretend to come to life, move about and play among themselves, as well as talk. But of course all this must be done when no human eyes see them.

And as Mrs. Clark had gone to bed, and[Pg 14] as her son Jimmie, the sailor lad, was far away at sea, there was no one to spy on the Woolly Dog, the Rubber Clown, or the other playthings. They could do as they pleased during the night.

“Well, here I come!” cried the Rubber Clown. He was fat, jolly and good-natured even though he was a poor toy, selling for only five cents. And, though he had a tin whistle in his back, he was not at all proud.

The Rubber Clown moved over to the edge of the shelf on which he had been standing for several weeks, as no one seemed to care to buy him. Below him was the platform—or floor—of the show window, where, at this time, the Woolly Dog was the only toy.

“Wait a minute,” barked the Woolly Dog, as he looked up at the Clown, who was about to jump.

“What’s the matter?” the Rubber Clown wanted to know.

“I want to move over a little closer to[Pg 15] you,” went on the Dog. “You might not land on my back where I am.”

The Dog, who had fat little stuffed legs, moved them slowly to and fro, and walked over just beneath the end of the toy shelf.

“One,” began the Clown, counting before he leaped. “Two——”

“Wait a minute!” barked the Woolly Dog again.

“What’s the matter now?” the Clown asked.

“Mind the needles and pins,” warned the Dog. “If you land on them you’ll be stuck.”

“I intend to land on your soft, woolly back,” laughed the Clown. “Three!” he cried, finishing his count. “Here I come!”

With that he toppled off the shelf, turning two somersaults as he went down, for he was quite an acrobat, was this Clown.

“Oh, isn’t that perfectly wonderful?”[Pg 16] gasped one Calico-Dressed Doll to another.

“Gorgeous!” was the reply. “It’s as good as going to a circus. I didn’t know the Rubber Clown could turn somersaults.”

“Pooh! You ought to see me somersault!” boasted one of the cheap Jumping Jacks. “If I could get rid of this stick and the strings that jiggle my legs I’d show you some somersaulting!”

The Jumping Jack was afraid lest the Calico-Dressed Dolls think too much of the Rubber Clown. The Jumping Jack was a bit jealous, I’m thinking.

Down, down, down, went the Clown, turning over and over as he aimed to land on the Woolly Dog’s back to get a ride.

“Hi! Yi!” yelled the Rubber Clown, in toy language of course. “Here I come!”

“He’s a great trickster,” said a little Penny China Doll.

[Pg 17]

Then the Rubber Clown did a trick he had not counted on. He missed landing on the Woolly Dog’s back and hit the floor of the show window with both feet. And, being made of rubber, the Clown did just what I think you have guessed he did—he bounced high up in the air. Up he bounded!

“Hold on there! I say! what are you doing?” cried the Woolly Dog. “I thought you were going to ride on my back!”

“I—thought—so—too!” gasped the Clown. He had to speak in jerks because his breath was bounced out of him.

The Rubber Clown bounded nearly as high as the shelf from which he had turned a somersault and then down to the floor of the window he went again.

“Come on—get up on my back!” barked the Dog.

The Clown tried, but he could not. Up in the air he sprang again, like a rubber ball.

[Pg 18]

“Oh, isn’t this exciting!” cried the Penny China Doll.

“I should say it was!” agreed the Jumping Jack. “It’s the best fun I’ve seen in a long while.”

“It may be—fun for—you,” gasped the Clown. “But it—isn’t any—fun for—me!”

Up and down he bounced, a little less and a little slower each time until at last he bounded only as high as the Woolly Dog’s back.

“Now’s your chance. I’ll run under you and you can sit on me!” barked the fluffy toy.

And that’s just what he did. When the Clown was up in the air the Woolly Dog moved over a bit and stood squarely beneath the Clown. Down came the rubber toy, landing safely on the Dog’s back. He bounced up a little, but not much, for you know rubber will not rebound from anything soft, like a bed. And the Dog’s back was even softer than a hair mattress.

[Pg 19]

“Now I’m all right,” laughed the Clown. “I thought I’d never get here, though. But here I am! Start off, if you please, Woolly Dog. But wait a minute! I’ll blow my whistle!”

The Rubber Clown made a low bow, compressing the air inside his hollow body just as if he had been squeezed. Out through the tin hole in his back rushed the air, making a whistling sound. The other toys laughed and the Woolly Dog barked, and then he trotted around and gave the Rubber Clown a fine ride in the show window.

Light came in from a street lamp through a crack in the window curtain, so the toys could see to play about. And fine fun they had! After the Clown had been given a ride, the Dog kindly let some of the Dolls get up on his back and, much to their delight, he paraded them around.

The Jumping Jacks did some tricks and the Animals from the Noah’s Ark marched around like a circus procession.

[Pg 20]

But at last the Clown cried:

“Daylight is coming! To your places, all of you!”

For the coming of daylight meant that Mrs. Clark would open the store for the day’s business, and then the toys could neither speak nor move, for human eyes would see them.

Up to his shelf leaped the Rubber Clown, the Calico-Dressed Dolls laid themselves out straight in their boxes. The Penny China Doll took her place near the Tops and the Woolly Dog walked to the middle of the show window where he had been put so passersby would best notice him.

The store became lighter. The street lamps were put out one by one, and the sun began to shine.

“Another day has begun,” said Mrs. Clark, as she entered her store to raise the curtain. “I certainly hope I do more business to-day than I did yesterday. Rent time is coming very near and I need[Pg 21] three dollars! If I could only sell the Woolly Dog!”

She put her tiny stock of toys and goods in order, got her breakfast and then sat down to wait for two things. One was the postman who, she hoped, would bring her a letter from her sailor son. The other was for customers, especially a customer who would buy the Woolly Dog.

It was almost noon when a man passed through the street on which Mrs. Clark’s store stood. This man wore very good clothes, and he carried a cane with a gold head. He looked to be a very rich man, and he was.

“But I don’t see why a rich man is walking through our poor street,” said Lizzie to Sammie.

“Maybe he’s looking for a washerwoman for his wife,” suggested Sammie. Many came to the street for that purpose.

However, Mr. Theodore Blakeley, for that was his name, had not come to Hoyt[Pg 22] Street to look for a laundress. He had never been in that street before—in fact, he hardly knew its name or that there was such a street—and his coming to it was a sort of accident.

That morning he had started out in his automobile to go down town to business. He did not like to travel in trolley cars, and as for a jitney, he had never ridden in one in his life!

But even rich men, in autos, have their troubles, and the trouble that came to Mr. Blakeley was that, half way to his office, something made a hole in one of the tires. It was punctured near Hoyt Street, where Mrs. Clark had her shop.

“I shall have to change a tire, sir,” said the chauffeur, touching his hat to Mr. Blakeley.

“Hum! That means delay, I suppose. I think I’ll walk on. It isn’t far, is it, James?”

“No, sir, not if you take the short cut through Hoyt Street.”

[Pg 23]

“All right, I’ll do it. Come for me this evening, as usual.”

“Yes, sir.”

So the rich Mr. Blakeley alighted from his automobile and started to walk through Hoyt Street—a place where, as far as he could remember, he had never before been. It was not often that rich and well-dressed men were seen there.

And, as it happened, Mr. Blakeley passed Mrs. Clark’s poor little store. And just then the sun shone on the Woolly Dog—on his clean, white, curling coat of lamb’s wool.

“Bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Blakeley, for he was rather an old-fashioned gentleman. “Bless me! There’s the very thing for Donald’s birthday! It will save me going down town.”

Donald Cressey was the son of Mr. Blakeley’s sister, and the boy was a great favorite of his uncle. Mr. Blakeley’s sister was not as rich as was he, and she could not afford to buy expensive presents.[Pg 24] But Mr. Blakeley always saw to it that on Donald’s birthday and at Christmas the boy had something nice.

“Yes, that Woolly Dog will just do for Donald,” went on Mr. Blakeley. “He can’t hurt himself with it, and he can have lots of fun. I’m glad I remembered it was his birthday—came near forgetting it. And it’s lucky I happened to walk through this street. I didn’t know they kept toys here. I’ll go in and get that Dog.”