"All right," said Dorothy; "tell him to come right up."
"Never mind; let 'em all come up," replied Dorothy.
This little girl, Dorothy, was like dozens of little girls you know.
Aunt Em once said she thought the fairies must have marked Dorothy at her birth, because she had wandered into strange places and had always been protected by some unseen power.
When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, Aunt Em had been so startled by the child's laughter that she would scream and press her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy's merry voice reached her ears; and she still looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find anything to laugh at.
It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as gray as her other surroundings.
"Yes," agreed Dorothy, "it was pretty wet, for a time, I know.
"I'd like to know that, too," said Dorothy. "But, tell me; how does it happen that you are able to talk?
The girl was no taller than Dorothy, although more slender; nor did she seem any older than our little heroine.
As she faced them, shy as a frightened fawn, poised upon one foot as if to fly the next instant, Dorothy was astonished to see tears flowing from her violet eyes and trickling down her lovely rose-hued cheeks.
"Now you must feed me, Dorothy, for I'm half starved."
The children were inclined to be frightened by the sight of the small animal, which reminded them of the bears; but Dorothy reassured them by explaining that Eureka was a pet and could do no harm even if she wished to.