It was Monday morning, and the Clerk of the Weather was never at his best on Monday. A muddler at all times, on Monday he was usually the most muddled muddler who ever muddled muddles!
“He’s cross as two sticks!” whispered Tibbs; “we shan’t get much help from him.”
“I wonder if he is related to Mrs. Grudge,” said Coppertop in a subdued voice; “he has her nose——”
“And her temper,” agreed Tibbs.
“Yes,” continued Coppertop, “and that’s about all there is of Mrs. Grudge—nose, and temper, and teeth.”
“’Es, and not always teeth, only sometimes,” added Kiddiwee.
“Hush!” corrected Coppertop, “you should never notice uncertain teeth.”
The Clerk of the Weather.