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An oil-begrimed wiper crawled from under the 1031, spat at the dope-bucket and flung his bunch of waste therein. "Gur-r-r! Let 'em stop," he rasped. "The dope's bad, and the waste's bad; and the old man has cut out the 'lectrics and put us back on them," kicking a small jacket lamp to the bottom of an empty stall. "Give 's a chaw o' yer smokin' plug, Mr. Callahan," and he held out his hand.
He came over toward Teddy growling, "Gur-r-r! gur-r-r-r! Who are you, coming and frightening my little bears this way?" But as soon as he saw the Counterpane Fairy he grew quite humble. "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I didn't know it was a friend of yours." "Yes, it is," said the fairy, "and I have brought him here to stay awhile. Will you take good care of him?" "Yes, I will," said Father Bear.
There was a short GUR-R-R and a slight mix-up. "Weejee! Weejee!" called Mrs. Sopley. "How DARE you, sir! You're just a BAD dog!! Go and lie down, sir. I'm so sorry. I think, you know, it's your white trousers. For some reason Weejee simply HATES white trousers. I do hope he hasn't torn them." "Oh, no," I said; "it's nothing only a slight tear."
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