"She's a toy,
woolly one from the store, and my Uncle Tim, who's a sailor, gave her to
me."
"Well now, honey, I suah is sorry to heah dat!" said the colored man.
"Your toy Lamb down de coal hole! Dat is too bad!"
"Can we get her out?" asked Arnold. "I'll crawl down the hole and get
the Lamb if you won't throw any more coal."
"Oh, I won't frow any mo' coal--not fo' a while--not when I knows whut
de trouble is," said the kind-hearted driver. "But I doan believe, mah
li'l man, dat you'd better go down de coal hole."
At that moment the door of Dorothy's house opened, and her mother came
out on the porch.
"What is it, Mirabell?" she asked. "What has happened?" She saw the
children from next door talking to the coal driver, and she wondered at
it.
"Oh, my Lamb is down the coal hole!" said Mirabell.
"Oh, that's too bad!" exclaimed Dorothy's mother. "I saw you holding a
toy Lamb up to the window, before Dorothy was taken ill. How did your
toy get down the coal hole?"
Mirabell and Arnold told by turns, and the driver said:
"I suah is sorry, lady. But it w'an't mahfaulta-tall!"
"I know it wasn't," said Dorothy's mother.
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