“The leg isn’t broken all the way off,” said Miss Geraldine, who was washing the face of a China Doll, that, somehow or other, had fallen in the dust.

“Yes, that is a good thing,” observed Mr. Mugg.  “I can glue the parts together and the Donkey will be as strong as ever.  Leave it here, Mr. Richmond.  I’ll fix it.”

“And may I have it back this week?” asked the other.  “My boy is going to the hospital to have his legs made strong, if possible, and I think he would like to take the Donkey with him.”

“You may have it day after to-morrow,” promised the toy man.

The Nodding Donkey was still in such pain from his broken leg that he did not pay much attention to the other toys in the store.  But Mr. Mugg lost no time in getting to work on the broken toy.

“Heat me the pot of glue, Geraldine,” he called to his daughter, “and get me some paint and varnish.  When I mend the broken leg I’ll paint over the splintered place, so it will not show.”

The Nodding Donkey was taken to a work bench.  Mr. Mugg, wearing a long apron and a cap, just like the workmen in the shop of Santa Claus, sat down to begin.

With tiny pieces of wood, put in the broken leg to make it as strong as the others that were not broken, with hot, sticky glue, and with strands of silk thread, Mr. Mugg worked on the Nodding Donkey.  The toy felt like braying out as loudly as he could when he felt the hot glue on his leg, but he was not permitted to do this, since Mr. Mugg was looking at him.  So he had to keep silent, and in the end he felt much better.

“There, I think you will do now,” said Mr. Mugg, as he tightly bound some bandages on the Donkey’s leg.  “When it gets dry I will paint it over and it will look as good as new.”

The mended Donkey was set aside on a shelf by himself, and not among the toys that were for sale.  All day and all night long he remained there.  He was feeling too upset and in too much pain to be lonesome.  All he wished for was to be better.

In the morning he was almost himself again.  Mr. Mugg came, and, finding the glue hard and dry, took off the bandages.  Then with his knife he scraped away little hard pieces of glue that had dried on the outside, and the toy man also cut away some splinters of new wood that stuck out.

“Now to paint your leg, and you will be finished,” said Mr. Mugg.

The smell of the paint and varnish, as it was put on him, made the Nodding Donkey think of when he had first come to life in the workshop of Santa Claus.  He was feeling quite young and happy again.

“There you are!” cried Mr. Mugg, as he once more set the Donkey on the shelf for the paint and varnish to dry.  And this time the Donkey was allowed to be among the other toys, though he was not for sale.

That night in the store, when all was quiet and still, the Nodding Donkey shook his head and spoke to the China Cat, who was not far away.