anxiously over her. In a few moments she reached the scene of the
accident, and found them all gathered around the Kewpie, who lay in
the lap of the Snimmy's wife with both legs broken. Sara ran and knelt
beside her.

"Now, here, don't you go and burst into tears," said Schlorge,
speaking in the gruff tone an anxious doctor uses toward an excitable
patient. "I'll have my hands full mending your baby here, without
having to mend you. He has no internal injuries," he added, turning
the Kewpie upside down and peering down the stumps of his legs (which
were hollow) into a perfectly pink and smooth and healthy-looking
interior, "and you might have. Besides, we'll fix it up all right."

"Can you really, Schlorge?" asked Sara. There were tears in her voice,
but, by trying very hard, she did keep from bursting into them.

"Of course I can!" said Schlorge, speaking quite crossly to conceal
his sympathy. "Here--you Gunki! A stretcher!"

So the Gunki came running with a stretcher made out of a large
mullein-leaf, and they put the Kewpie and his legs tenderly upon it.
He was a trifle pale, but still smiling, and insisted that he did not
suffer at all.

"Only it's inconvenient, you know, not to be able to walk," he
explained, "and I didn't want to miss the fun. Would it be too much
trouble--could you take me this way? These gentlemen, now--"

"Sure!" said the four Gunki at once, in tenor, baritone, bass, and
second bass. Sara, even in her distress, was charmed; for that was the