"But would that be wise?" ruminated Notta, rubbing his forehead anxiously. "Let's try the last door, Bob." "Don't try me too much or I'll fall on your head," wheezed a disagreeable voice. "Haven't you anything better to do than go trying poor hard-working doors?" After a talking sign, Notta and Bob should not have been surprised. But they were--simply astonished--and for a moment could do nothing but stare. "This door answers itself," said the plate on the seventh and strangest of all the strange doorways. "No bread, no ice, no milk; and if you're selling brushes you might as well go at once," continued the door sulkily. "We don't need any." "We're not!" interrupted Notta, in a slightly choked voice. "We just want to get in." "What for?" asked the door stubbornly. "Is it a door matter? Have you cards of admission?" "We're hunting Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion," volunteered Bob timidly. "A likely story," sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to the other. "But what could one expect of people with curly ears." "We have not curly ears," cried Bob, stamping his foot indignantly. "Don't argue," said the door stiffly. "How's your temper--long or short?" It rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at Notta. "What's that got to do with our getting in?" asked the clown impatiently. "Short!" muttered the door triumphantly to itself. "No, you'd better stay out, I think. Her highness is very slammish to-day, and the last time I let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. That's the trouble around here--when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the door. Sometimes I almost wish I were a sofa cushion." "I wish you were, myself," frowned the clown, "for then I'd toss you out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. Are you going to let us in or not?" "Not!" snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. "And I don't care a slam what you wish." "Bob," said Notta, turning his back on the door, "did you ever hear anything like that? Let's try Number Two. I'd rather risk wakening a baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself." "I'm not afraid of babies," said Bob following manfully. The knob of Number Two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush that both Notta and Bob fell through. At the first glimpse of that baby, Notta clapped his hand over Bob's mouth and, rising with quaking knees, pulled him toward the door. For you see it was a baby dragon--a snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. It gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and Notta and Bob sat down in a weak heap. "Baby," choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon smoke. "Well, if that's the baby, preserve me from the rest of the family!" "Will it come after us?" shuddered Bob, in a frightened whisper. "How did you like our little doorter?" The seventh door looked sideways at the two and chuckled wickedly. "Still want to get in?"