y, as she listened to the old dame scolding to herself in the
distance. "The idea of not knowing human persons when you see them! Of
course, being so small _is_ rather unusual, and it's really quite
dangerous, you know," she went on, giving a little shiver at the thought
of what might have happened. "Just fancy being wrapped up in a piece of
stiff paper by mistake--shrieking wouldn't do the least good because, of
course, she's deaf as anything--"

* * * * *

"How much are you a dozen?" said a voice, and Dorothy, looking around,
saw that it was a Dancing-Jack in the shop-window speaking to her. He
was a gorgeous creature, with bells on the seams of his clothes and with
arms and legs of different colors, and he was lounging in an easy
attitude with his right leg thrown over the top of a toy livery-stable
and his left foot in a large ornamental tea-cup; but as he was fastened
to a hook by a loop in the top of his hat, Dorothy didn't feel in the
least afraid of him.

"Thank you," she replied with much dignity, "I'm not a dozen at all. I'm
a single person. That sounds kind of unmarried," she thought to
herself, "but it's the exact truth."

[Illustration: "'YOU KNOW YOUR SIZE DOES COME IN DOZENS, ASSORTED,'
CONTINUED THE JACK."]

"No offense, I hope," said the Jack, looking somewhat abashed.

"No--not exactly," said Dorothy rather stiffly.

"You know, your size _does_ come in dozens--assorted," continued the
Jack, with quite a professional air. "Family of nine, two maids with
dusters, and cook with removable apron. Very popular, I believe."

"So I should think," remarked Dorothy, beginning to recover her good
nature.

"But of course _singles_ are much more select," said the Jack. "_We_
never come in dozens, you know."

"I suppose not," said Dorothy, innocently. "I can't imagine anybody
wanting twelve Dancing-Jacks all at the same time."

"It wouldn't do any good if they did want 'em," said the Jack. "They
couldn't get 'em,--that is, not in _this_ shop."

Now, while this conversation was going on, Dorothy noticed that the
various things in the shop-window had a curious way of constantly
turning into something else. She discovered this by seeing a little
bunch of yellow peg-tops change into a plateful of pears while she
chanced to be looking at them; and a moment afterward she caught a
doll's saucepan, that was hanging in one corner of the window, just in
the act of quietly turn