ck me up and let's go on top of the wood-pile," said Mr.
Thimblefinger after a while. "It's suffocating down here. Ouch! don't
tickle me, if you do I shall have a fit." Buster John had lifted him
by placing a thumb and forefinger under his arms. "And don't squeeze
me, neither," the little man went on. "I was cramped under that bark
until I'm as sore as a boil all over. Goodness! I wish I was at home!"

"Where do you live?" asked Sweetest Susan when they were once more
seated on the wood-pile.

"Not far from here, not very far," replied Mr. Thimblefinger, shaking
his head sagely, "but it is a different country--oh, entirely
different."

Sweetest Susan edged away from the little man at this, and Drusilla
stretched her eyes.

"What is it like?" asked Buster John boldly.

Mr. Thimblefinger reflected a while, and then shook his head. "I can
show it to you," he said, "but I can't describe it."

"Pick 'im up an' show 'im to your ma!" exclaimed Drusilla suddenly.

"No, no, no!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger, leaping to his feet. "That
would spoil everything. No grown person living in this country has
ever seen me. No, no! don't try that. It would spoil your luck. I
wouldn't be here now if the Dolls' Grandmother hadn't begged me to
come with her last night. But I'll come to see you,"--he pointed at
Drusilla. "I'll come often."

"I des said dat fer ter see what you'd say," protested Drusilla. "You
wan' gwine ter take 'im, wuz you, honey?" This question was addressed
to Buster John, who scorned to answer it.

"Grown people wouldn't understand me," Mr. Thimblefinger explained.
"They know a great deal too much to suit me."

"How do you get to your country?" inquired Buster John, who was keen
for an adventure.

"The nearest way is by the spring," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "That
is the only way you could go."

"Can I go too?" asked Sweetest Susan. "And Drusilla?"

"Oh, of course," said Mr. Thimblefinger, shrugging his shoulders. "One
can go or all can go."

"Do you go down the spring branch?" asked Buster John.

[Illustration: FOLLOWING LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER]

"No, no," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "Below the spring and below the
branch."

"Do you mean under the spring?" Sweetest Susan inquired, with some
hesitation.

"That's it," cried Mr. Thimblefinger. "Right down through the spring
and under it."

"Why, we'd drown," said Sweetest Susan. "The spring is deep."

"Well, you'll ha' ter 'skuze me," exclaimed Drusi