IT IS DIFFICULT TO PLAY WHEN ANY ONE IS WATCHING YOU, ESPECIALLY A POLICEMAN.
“Oh, you naughty, silly children,” said the Bouncible Ball, turning red with anger, except in the part where he was green with disgust; “it makes me bounce with rage to see how you’ve thrown away your chances, and what a seaside resort you’re making of ‘Whereyouwantogoto.’”
And he did bounce, angrily, up and down the beach till the housemaid looked out of the cave and told the children not to be so noisy, and the policeman called out—
“Now then, move along there, move along. You’re obstructing of the traffic.”
And now I have something to tell you which you will find it hard to make any excuses for. I can’t make any myself. I can only ask you to remember how hard it is to be even moderately good, and how easy it is to be extremely naughty.
When the Bouncible Ball stopped bouncing, Selim said—
“I wonder what makes him bounce.”
“Oh no, don’t!” cried Thomasina, for she had heard her brother wonder that about balls before, and she knew all too well what it ended in.
“Oh, don’t,” she said, “oh, Silly, he brought us here, he’s been so kind.” But Selim said, “Nonsense; balls can’t feel, and it will be almost as good to play with after I’ve looked inside it.”