"No, it was a new dog. I'd never seen him before. Oh, dear! He'll bite my doll!"
"It won't hurt her to be bitten a little," said Bert with a laugh. "You can't hurt dolls."
"You can so!" sobbed Flossie, who was crying real tears now. "And I don't want my best doll bitten."
"Don't laugh at her, Bert," said Nan in a low voice. "Try to get her doll back for her."
"I will," promised Bert. "Which way did the dog go, Flossie? Tell me."
"He went around back of the house."
"Maybe he thought your doll was a bone, and he's going to bury it," Bert said. "Was she a thin doll, Flossie; thin like a bone?"
"No, she wasn't! She was a nice fat doll, with red cheeks! And I want her back. Oh dear!"
"I'll get her for you," Bert said again.
"I'm glad the dog didn't take my doll," broke in Alice. "I'll let you play with mine, Flossie."
"Thank you, but I—I want my own dear doll!" and Flossie sobbed harder than before.
"Never mind, Brother Bert will get her from the dog," said Nan. "Don't cry."
