And not ordinarily mad--not mad just by herself--the Choolies
were divinely incensed as well.
"The Choolies are mad!" she hummed again like a battle-cry "Choolies are
dolls and all the Choolies are mad!"
The Choolies were only mad on rare occasions. It took something genuinely
out of the ordinary to turn an inoffensive pink celluloid doll with one of
its legs off into an angry Choolie. But when they were mad the family had
discovered by painful experience that the only thing to do was to leave
Jane Ellen quite entirely alone.
"The Choolies are mad, mad, mad!" she chanted end chanted, her plump legs
swinging, her mouth set like a prophet's calling down lightnings on
Babylon the splendid.
Then she stopped swinging. Somebody was coming up the path--any of the
people she was mad at?--no--only Uncle Ollie. Were the Choolies mad at
Uncle Ollie? She considered a moment.
"Hello, Jane Ellen, how goes it?"
The small mouth was full of rebellion.
"Um mad!"
"Oh--sorry. What about?"
Defiantly
"Um _mad_. And the Choolies are mad--they're mad--they're mad--"
Oliver looked at her a moment but was much too wise to smile.
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