And one day, after having been cooped up in his box for a long time, so, at least, it seemed to him, the Plush Bear’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a flash of light.

“I wonder if I am back at the North Pole,” he thought.  “Has that Eskimo boy caught me again, and is he taking me to his igloo?  Are these Northern Lights that flash in front of me?”

But they were not, though they came from the same cause—­electricity.  The glare that dazzled the eyes of the Plush Bear came from the electric lights of a large store, where he was being unpacked, together with other toys.  There was a rustle of paper as the Plush Bear was unwrapped, and then a voice cried: 

“Oh, Father, see what a fine toy!  And it’s the kind you wind up!  Oh, I shall love this Plush Bear!”

“Do not squeeze him too tightly, Angelina,” said a white-haired and white-whiskered old man, who was helping two women lift the toys out of the big box in which they had come.  “You may break some of the wheels or springs.”

“Oh, I shan’t hug him too tightly,” said Angelina, laughing.  “But he is certainly a lovely Plush Bear.”

“Yes, he is very nice,” said the old gentleman.  “What have you, Geraldine?” he asked his other daughter.

“An Elephant,” was the answer.  “But he doesn’t wind up.  However, he will look well in the window.”

“Yes,” said the old man, “to-morrow we will decorate the show windows for the Christmas trade.  The Plush Bear must surely stand in the window.  Some one will see him and buy him.”

“Well, at last I seem to have reached a toy shop—­the very place I most wanted to come to,” thought the Plush Bear.  “I wonder who the old gentleman is?”

Had the Plush Bear been able to read he would have seen in white letters on one of the windows the name: 

Horatio Mugg
toy dealer

But the Plush Bear did not need this to tell him he was in the very place he wished to be.

“Now some girl or boy will buy me, I hope, and I shall have more adventures,” thought the new toy.

The Plush Bear, who was taken from his box by Angelina, one of Mr. Mugg’s daughters, was placed safely on a shelf, and the unpacking of the toys went on.  It was evening, and the store was closed for the day.  But Mr. Mugg took this time to open his new shipment of Christmas goods.

Geraldine had just lifted out the Wax Doll, and the Plush Bear was wondering when he would have a chance to talk to her and his other friends from the shop of Santa Claus when, all of a sudden, from the rear of the toy store, which was in darkness, came a strange sound.

There was a banging, slamming noise, then several bumps, and finally a loud whistle.

“Goodness; what’s that?” exclaimed Angelina.

“I hope that isn’t a policeman whistling, to tell us there is another fire!” said Geraldine.

“Or that burglars are trying to break in to take the new toys,” added her sister.