“What do you want here?” repeated the Clerk of the Weather, growing angrier and more like Mrs. Grudge each moment.
“If you please, we’ve come——”
“I can see that!” interrupted the Clerk.
“To—to——” stammered Coppertop.
“Two and two makes four!” snapped the Clerk. “Well! what have you come for?”
“Smarty!” cried Tibbs. And the Clerk glared at him.
“We’ve come to ask you very kindly for a December day, if you please,” said Coppertop, speaking in her best party manner, to hide Tibbs’ rudeness.
“Well, I don’t please!” rapped the Clerk of the Weather. “I haven’t one! And I wouldn’t give it to you if I had! December day, indeed! The most precious thing in my whole year! What do you think I’m made of?”
“Nose and temper and teeth,” said Kiddiwee, who thought the Clerk was asking a question to be answered.
“Insolent!” yelled the Clerk, purple with rage. “Be off at once! December day, indeed! You won’t get one if I can help it!” And so saying, he shut the thundercloud door with a bang!