“We’ve been very naughty,” said Thomasina, rubbing her eyes with the paint rag, “but it’s all the heat. I heard Aunt Selina telling mother the weather wore her nerves to fiddle-strings. That just meant she was cross.”
“Then it’s not our fault,” said Selim. “People say be good and you’ll be happy. Uncle Reggy says, ‘Be happy, and perhaps you’ll be good.’ I could be good if I was happy.”
“So could I,” said Thomasina.
“What would make you happy?” said a thick, wheezy voice from the toy cupboard, and out rolled the big green and red india-rubber ball that Aunt Emma had sent them last week. They had not played with it much, because the garden was so hot and sunny—and when they wanted to play with it in the street, on the shady side, Aunt Selina had said it was not like respectable children, so they weren’t allowed.
Now the Ball rolled out very slowly—and the bright light on its new paint seemed to make it wink at them. You will think that they were surprised to hear a ball speak. Not at all. As you grow up, and more and more strange things happen to you, you will find that the more astonishing a thing is the less it surprises you. (I wonder why this is. Think it over, and write and tell me what you think.)
Selim stood up, and said, “Halloa”; but that was only out of politeness. Thomasina answered the Ball’s question.
“We want to be at the seaside—and no aunts—and none of the things we don’t like—and no uncles, of course,” she said.
“Well,” said the Ball, “if you think you can be good, why not set me bouncing?”
“We’re not allowed in here,” said Thomasina, “because of the crinkly ornaments people give me on my birthdays.”
“Well, the street then,” said the Ball; “the nice shady side.”