"Watch out
fo' her!"
Mirabell and Arnold could hear him walking around on the coal under the
sidewalk. In another half minute a black hand was thrust up through the
hole, and in the hand was a white, woolly Lamb on Wheels. Wait a minute!
Did I say white? Well, I meant to have said a BLACK Lamb.
For Mirabell's white, clean Lamb on Wheels was now covered with black
coal dust.
"Oh, that isn't my Lamb on Wheels at all!" cried Mirabell, and there
were real tears in her eyes as her brother took the coal-dust covered
toy from the colored man's hand. "That isn't my Lamb at all!"
"Oh, yes, it must be, Mirabell," said Dorothy's mother. "No other Lamb
has fallen down the coal hole."
"But my Lamb was WHITE, and this one is BLACK," sobbed the little girl.
"Well, bring her in here and we'll wash her nice and clean and white
again," said Dorothy's mother. "Bring your Lamb in, Mirabell. Dorothy is
better now, though she cannot be out yet, and she will be glad to see
you. Come in and I'll wash your Lamb!"
"And I certainly do need a bath!" thought the Lamb to herself, when she
heard this talk.
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