Rag-Tag.

“I’ll attend to you first, before you bleed to death,” said the little old woman, frowning. Then she rapped on the floor with her cane and cried out:—

While Sweetest Susan was wondering what this meant, she saw a big Black Spider swing down from the ceiling and hang, dangling close to the little old woman’s face. Its little eyes sparkled like coals of fire, and its hairy mouth worked as if it were chewing something. Sweetest Susan shivered as she looked at it, but she didn’t scream.

“A thimbleful of fresh cobwebs, Long-Legged Spinner!” said the little old woman, in a businesslike way.

Then the big Black Spider moved his legs faster than a cat can wink her eyes, and in a few seconds the fresh cobwebs were spun.

“That is very nice,” said the little old woman. “Here’s a fat Bluebottle for you.”

The big Black Spider seized the Fly and ran nimbly to the ceiling again. The Fly buzzed and buzzed in a pitiful way, and Sweetest Susan thought to herself, “Oh, what should I do if that was poor me!”

Then the little old woman hunted in her satchel until she found a piece of mutton suet, and with this and the fresh cobwebs she quickly stopped the hole in Rag-Tag’s back. This done, she went around and doctored each one. She glued more hair on the China Doll. She fixed the nose of the Jip-jap Doll. She gave a new blue eye to the Brown Doll.

“There!” she exclaimed when she had finished, “I think you look a little more like yourself now. But you would look a great deal better if you had any clothes fit to wear. Now pay attention! What is the name of this horrible giantess that drags you about and beats you so?”

“It’s no giantess, Granny,” replied Rag-Tag. “It’s a little girl, and sometimes she’s very, very good.”

“Hush!” cried the little old woman. “Speak when you are spoken to.”

“She is a giantess, Granny,” said the Brown Doll. “She’s taller than that chair yonder.”

“Where is she now?” the little old woman asked fiercely.

“She’s asleep in the bed, Granny,” said the Brown Doll.

“Pinch her good, Granny!” cried the Wax Doll. “Put out her eyes!”

“Scratch her, Granny! Pull out her hair!” pleaded the Brown Doll.

“Bump her head against the wall, Granny! Mash her nose!” exclaimed the Jip-jap Doll.

The Rag-Tag Doll said not a word.

All this time the little old woman was searching in her satchel for something, and Sweetest Susan began to get frightened.

“I’ve come off without my specs,” said the little old woman, “and I can’t see a stiver with such a light as this.”

Just then the big Black Cat that had been sleeping quietly in a chair rose and stretched himself and gaped, showing his long white teeth. He jumped to the floor and walked back and forth purring and rubbing against the little old woman in a friendly way.

“Get out! You’ll push me over,” she cried. “Oh, will you go away? I’ll stick you with my needle! I certainly will! Keep your long tail out of my face! Oh, how can I see to do anything? Will you go away? I’ll hit you as sure as I am standing here!”

“Don’t,” said the big Black Cat, stopping and looking straight at the little old woman. “Don’t you know it brings bad luck to hit a black cat?”

“If I hit you, you’ll feel it,” cried the little old woman.

“Stop,” exclaimed the big Black Cat. “I know what you are here for. Do you see my eyes? They are as green as grass. Do you see my teeth? They are as strong as iron. Do you see my claws? They are as sharp as needles. If I look at you hard you’ll shiver; if I bite you you’ll squall; if I scratch you you’ll bleed.”

The Grandmother of the Dolls looked at the big Black Cat long and hard.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I know you,” replied the Black Cat.

“What is your name?” she asked.

THE GRANDMOTHER OF THE DOLLS AND THE BIG BLACK CAT

“Billy-Billy Blackfoot.”

“It is time for you to go hunting,” she said. She wanted to get him out of the room.

“I have found what I was hunting for,” said Billy-Billy Blackfoot.

“There’s a rat gnawing in the pantry.”

“He’ll be fatter when I catch him.”

“There’s a piece of cheese in the dining-room.”

“It won’t spoil until I eat it.”

“There’s a pan of milk in the kitchen.”

“It won’t turn sour till I drink it.”

“There’s catnip in the garden.”

“It will grow till I want it.”

The Grandmother of the Dolls then made a cross-mark on the carpet and waved her cane in the air. This was done to put a spell on Billy-Billy Blackfoot, but before the spell could work Billy-Billy made a circle by chasing his tail around. Then he glared at the little old woman and slowly closed one eye. This was too much. The Grandmother of the Dolls seized her cane and made a furious attack on Billy-Billy Blackfoot, but he leaped nimbly out of the way and the cane fell with a whack on the bald head of the Brown Doll.

At this there was a tremendous uproar. The Brown Doll screamed: “Murder!” Billy-Billy Blackfoot’s tail swelled to twice its natural size; the hair-brush fell on the floor; the dustpan rattled; the shovel and tongs staggered out from the chimney-corner and rolled over on the hearth; the Dolls scrambled and scurried under the bed, and the little old woman whisked up the chimney like a spark from a burning log.

When Sweetest Susan raised up in bed to look around she saw Drusilla sitting on her pallet rubbing her eyes, but Billy-Billy Blackfoot was sitting by the fireplace washing his face as quietly as if nothing had happened. At first it seemed to Sweetest Susan that it had all been a dream, but presently she heard a small voice that came down the chimney:

“Mr. Thimblefinger! Mr. Thimblefinger! It is nine minutes after twelve.” There was a pause, and then the small voice sounded farther away, like an echo, “Nine minutes and two seconds after twelve!”

II.

MR. THIMBLEFINGER’S QUEER COUNTRY.

The next morning Sweetest Susan was awake early. She wanted very much to turn over and go to sleep again, for her eyes were heavy and her body was tired. But the moment she remembered the wonderful events of the night before, she sat up in bed and looked around. Drusilla was still asleep and snoring very loudly, but Sweetest Susan jumped out of bed and shook her by the shoulder.

“Drusilla! Drusilla! wake up!” cried Sweetest Susan. Drusilla stopped short in her snoring and turned over with a groan. She kept her eyes closed, and in a moment she would have been snoring again, but Sweetest Susan continued to shake her and called her until she squalled out:—

“Who dat? What you want? Oh, Lordy!”

“Wake up, Drusilla,” said Sweetest Susan, “I want to ask you something.”

“Ain’t I ’wake? How kin I be any ’waker when I’m ’wake? Oh, is dat you, honey? I wuz skeer’d ’t was dat lil’ bit er ol’ ’oman. Whar she gone? Las’ time I