'She ain't my granny, and, if she was, I'd let you trip her up, I would; I ain't selfish. I shan't stop with you any longer.'
'Oh, do,' said Tommy; 'we'll go and play somewhere else.'
'Well,' said the clown, relenting, 'if you're a good boy you shall see me make a butter-slide in the hall.'
Then Tommy saw how he had wronged him in thinking he had pocketed the butter out of mere greediness, and he felt ashamed and penitent; the clown made a beautiful slide, though Tommy wished he would not insist upon putting all the butter that was left down his back.
'There's a ring at the bell,' said the clown; 'I'll open the door, and you hide and see the fun.'
So Tommy hid himself round a corner as the door opened.
'Walk in, sir,' said the clown, politely.
'Master Tommy in?' said a jolly, hearty voice. It was dear old Uncle John, who had taken him to the pantomime the night before. 'I thought I'd look in and see if he would care to come with me to the Crystal——oh!' And there was a scuffling noise and a heavy bump.
Tommy ran out, full of remorse. Uncle John was sitting on the tiles rubbing his head, and, oddly enough, did not look at all funny.
'Oh, uncle,' cried the boy, 'you're not hurt? I didn't know it was you!'