"Here! What's the matter with you kids?" said the window-cleaner. "Haven't you ever seen ladders and pails before? And what are you giving me them looks for? Anything wrong with me today? "
"No," said Larry hurriedly, for the window-cleaner sounded rather annoyed. "It's just that—er—these sliding ladders—er—are rather interesting!"
"Oh, are they?" said the window-cleaner disbelievingly. "Well, let me tell you this..."
But the children didn't listen to what he had to tell them. They hurried off, rather red in the face.
"I say! We shall get into trouble if we go squinting at every one to find out if they really are Fatty," said Larry. "Well have to look at people a bit more carefully—I mean, without them knowing it."
"There he is—I'm sure of it!" said Bets suddenly, as they went over the level-crossing to the river-side, where the side-shows were. "Look—that porter with the moustache. That's Fatty, all right!”
The porter was wheeling a barrow up the platform, and the others stood and admired him. "He wheels it exactly like a real porter," said Bets. "Why do porters always wear waistcoats and no coats at railway stations?
I'm sure that's Fatty. It's just the way he walks. And he's plump like Fatty too."
She raised her voice and hailed the porter. "Hey, Fatty I Fatty!"
The porter turned round. He set his barrow down on the ground and walked towards them, looking angry.