“THE PORTER SEEMED TO BE VERY ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING.”
“I wonder what’s the matter with him,” she thought, trying to get nearer to him. “How do you do, Mr. Crocodile?” she called out, when she had got within speaking distance.
The Crocodile started and turned around nervously. “Oh! how do you do?” he said, when he saw her. “Stop a minute and I’ll come over to you”; and, pushing his way through the crowd, he was soon by Girlie’s side.
“How is your tea getting on?” she asked, after they had shaken hands.
The Crocodile burst into tears. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked, sobbing.
“No,” said Girlie. “What’s the matter?”
The Crocodile shook his head sadly.” I had a dreadful accident with him on the day that I last saw you,” he said. “After I left you, I was wheeling him down the road, and had just got to the corner, when I stumbled against a stone and turned the perambulator right over.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Girlie. “And what happened to your tea?”
“He was so upset, poor little thing! that he never got over it,” said the Crocodile, sobbing convulsively.
“Oh! don’t cry,” said Girlie. “It’s positively absurd to cry about a cup of tea, you know.”