'Then you've forgotten it,' she said; 'you're nothing but a big baby, that you are!'
'Yah!' retorted the clown; 'so are you a big baby!' which, as even Tommy saw, was not a very brilliant reply. It was a singular fact about the clown that the slightest check seemed to take away all his brilliancy.
'You know you're not telling the truth now,' said Barbara, so contemptuously, that the clown began to weep bitterly. 'She says I don't speak the truth!' he complained, 'and she knows it will be my aunt's birthday last Toosday!'
'You great silly thing, what has that to do with it?' cried Barbara, indignantly. 'What is there to cry about?' which very nearly made Tommy quarrel with her, for why couldn't she be polite to his friend?
However, the clown soon dried his eyes on the tablecloth, and recovered his cheerfulness; and presently he noticed the Times lying folded by Tommy's papa's plate.
'Oh, I say, mister,' he said, 'shall I air the newspaper for yer?'
'Thank you, if you will,' was the polite reply.
He shook it all out in one great sheet and wrapped it round him, and waddled about in it until Tommy nearly rolled off his seat with delight.
'When you've quite done with it——' his father was saying mildly, as the clown made a great hole in the middle and thrust his head out of it with a bland smile.