"What do you take it for?" asked Mollie, amazed at this confession.
"I'm collecting commas and Qs," said the Unwiseman. "I always was fond of pollywogs and pug-dogs, and the commas are the living image of pollywogs, and the letter Q always reminds me of a good natured pug-dog sitting down with his back turned toward me. I've made a tally sheet of this copy of the Gazette and so far I've found nine thousand and fifty-three commas, and thirty-nine pugs."
Whistlebinkie forgot his wrath in an explosion of mirth at this reply. He fairly rolled on the floor with laughter.
"Don't be foolish, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman severely. "A good Q is just as good as a pug-dog. He's just as fat, has a fine curly tail and he doesn't bite or keep you awake nights by barking at the moon or make a nuisance of himself whining for chicken-bones while you are eating dinner; and as far as the commas are concerned they're better even than pollywogs, because they don't wiggle around so much or turn into bull-frogs and splash water all over the place."
"There-raintenny-fleeson-cues-sneether," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"I didn't catch that," said the Unwiseman. "Talk through your nose just once and maybe I'll be able to guess what you're trying to say."
"He says there are not any fleas on Qs," said Mollie with a reproving glance at Whistlebinkie.
"As to that I can't say," said the Unwiseman. "I never saw any—but anyhow I don't object to fleas on pug-dogs."