“It’s not like respectable children,” said Selim sadly.
The Ball laughed. If you have never heard an india-rubber ball laugh you won’t understand. It’s the sort of quicker, quicker, quicker, softer, softer, softer chuckle of a bounce that it gives when it’s settling down when you’re tired of bouncing it.
“The garden, then,” it said.
“I don’t mind, if you’ll go on talking,” said Selim kindly.
So they took the Ball down into the garden and began to bounce it in the sun, on the dry, yellowy grass of the lawn.
“Come on,” said the Ball. “You do like me!”
“What?” said the children.
“Why, do like I do—bounce!” said the Ball. “That’s right—higher, higher, higher!”
For then and there the two children had begun bouncing as if their feet were india-rubber balls, and you have no idea what a delicious sensation that gives you.