And so the little couple set off down the hill, and were fortunate enough to find the old gentleman at home.
"Break it to him gently," whispered Whistlebinkie.
"I will," answered Mollie, under her breath, and then entering the Unwiseman's house she greeted him cheerily. "Good Morning, Mr. Me," she said.
"Is it?" asked the old gentleman, looking up from his newspaper which he was reading upside-down. "I haven't tasted it yet. I never judge a day till it's been cooked."
"Tasted it?" laughed Mollie. "Can't you tell whether a morning is good or not without tasting it?"
"O I suppose you can if you want to," replied the Unwiseman. "If you make up your mind to believe everything you see, why you can believe a morning's good just by looking at it, but I prefer to taste mine before I commit myself as to whether they are good or bad."
"Perfly-'bsoyd!" chortled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
"What's that?" cried Mollie.
"Still talks through his hat, doesn't he," said the Unwiseman. "Must think it's one of these follytones."
"Never-erd-o-sutcha-thing!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "What's a follytone?"