“Oh, I feel so queer!” bleated the Lamb as, faster and faster, she slid down the ironing-board hill.  “Oh, what a strange adventure!”

CHAPTER V

IN GREAT DANGER

“Look, Mirabell!” cried Arnold, pointing to the Lamb as she went down the ironing board.  “Didn’t I tell you she could coast without any snow?”

“Yes, you did, and she really is doing it!” laughed the little girl, clapping her hands.  “Oh, isn’t it nice?  I never thought a Lamb could coast downhill!”

“I never did, either,” said the woolly Lamb to herself.  “This is the first time I was ever made to do a thing like this, and I hope it will be the last!  Oh, how fast I am going!”

“It’s the wheels on her that make her coast so nice,” explained Arnold, when the Lamb was half way down the ironing-board hill.  “If she didn’t have them she wouldn’t roll down at all.  A Sawdust Doll can’t do it, nor a Rocking Horse.  It’s got to be something with wheels.”

When the Lamb heard this, as, of course, she did hear, having ears, she thought to herself: 

“Well, maybe this will not be so bad, after all.  I can do things, it seems, that the Sawdust Doll and Rocking Horse cannot do.  Not that I am going to be proud, or stuck up,” went on the Lamb to herself.

“Oh, look at her go!” cried Dick.

“Yes, but I hope she won’t be hurt,” said the little girl.  “I wouldn’t want my Lamb on Wheels that Uncle Tim just gave me to be hurt.”

“I should say not!” thought the Lamb to herself.  “Sliding down ironing-board hills may be something not many other toys can do, but I don’t want anything to happen.”

Faster and faster she went, and finally she reached the end of the board and came to the smooth oilcloth on the floor.  Then the wheels carried her across that to the far side of the room, and the Lamb brought up with a little bump against the baseboard.

“Oh, I hope she isn’t hurt!” cried Mirabell, as she ran to pick up her toy.

And the Lamb was all right—­there was not even a kink out of place in her soft, woolly coat.

So Mirabell and Arnold had fun letting the Lamb on Wheels coast down the ironing-board hill.  Again and again they gave her a nice, long slide across the smooth oilcloth on the kitchen floor.

“Now this is the last,” said Mirabell, after a while.  “I want to put her to sleep.”

Once more the Lamb was lifted to the high part of the ironing board and allowed to coast down on her wheels.  But, alas! this time, just as she was rolling over the kitchen floor, one of the wheels hit against Arnold’s foot.  Instead of going in a straight line the Lamb swung off to one side.  Straight toward the outside door she rolled, and just then Susan, the cook, came in from out-of-doors.

Susan held the door open for a moment, and before either Mirabell or Arnold could stop the Lamb, out she rolled to the back steps.