"Oh, dear me!" thought the China Cat. "I can't bear to be wet, and now
it is raining! But I hope it will wash from me some of the black smoke."
However, it was not rain that the China Cat felt, but water from the
hose of a real engine. The firemen were beginning to squirt water on the
blaze, to save as much as they could of Mr. Mugg's store and of his
toys, and some of the water from the hose sprayed on the China Cat.
By this time it was getting to be morning, and crowds of men and boys,
with a few women, on their way to early work, stopped to look at the
fire. Smoke was pouring out of Mr. Mugg's basement, and some one had
hurried to the toy-shopkeeper's house to awaken him and his daughters
and tell them what was happening.
"Oh, look at the toys!" cried a group of boys, as they came running up
the street to see where the fire was. "Oh, look at 'em!"
"Keep back now! Let those toys alone!" warned a policeman who was on
guard.
Most of the boys stepped back off the sidewalk, but when the policeman's
back was turned a little black boy, who stood somewhat apart from the
others, sneaked up to the packing box into which the China Cat and the
Talking Doll had been thrown.
"Golly, what a lot ob toys!" murmured the little negro boy, whose name
was Jeff. "I reckon as how I kin git one fo' nuffin, if dat p'liceman
don't see me.
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