"I’ll come and buy another balloon from you," said Bets eagerly. "That will make it all seem real."
"Oh, it'll be real enough," said Fatty. "All I hope is that Goon won't come and ask me for my licence again."
"He won't, if you are sitting in the middle of the village street, and he thinks you've got to hunt all through your petticoats for it, and make him look silly," said Larry. "He can't bear to be made to look silly. And anyway, he won't want to draw attention to himself if he's watching for any possible gang members. He won't think you're one."
"Quite right," said Fatty. "Well reasoned out, Larry. Now—am I ready?"
"You look simply marvellous," said Bets admiringly. "You really do. I can't think how you manage to make your face go so different, Fatty. It doesn't look a bit like you."
"Oh, I practise in front of a mirror," said Fatty. "And "I've got some marvellous books about it. And, of course, I've got the gift—you see..."
"Oh, shut up, Fatty," said Larry good humouredly. "We all know you're marvellous, without you telling us!"
The Balloon-woman suddenly screwed up her face, and her mouth went down at the corners in a most pathetic manner. She fished out a big red handkerchief, decidedly dirty, and began to weep most realistically.
"Don't be so unkind to me," she wept, and the others roared with laughter. Fatty peeped out at them from the corner of his hanky. "A pore old woman like me!" he wept. "Sleeping out under hedges at night..."
"With layers of petticoats to keep you warm!" chuckled Larry. Then he stopped and looked quickly out of the window of the shed.