"Thasoots me," said Whistlebinkie.
"What's that?" said Mollie. "You still talk through the top of your hat so much that I really can't make out what you say half the time."
"I forgot," said Whistlebinkie, meekly. "What I meant to say was that that suits me. I'd like very much to see him again and hear some of his poetry."
"I don't much think he's stayed in that business," observed Mollie. "He's had time enough to be in sixteen different kinds of businesses since we saw him, and I'm pretty certain that he's tried eight of them any how."
"I guess may be so," said Whistlebinkie. "He's a great tryer, that old Unwiseman."
Mollie donned her new spring hat and Whistlebinkie treated his face and hands to a dash of cold water, after which they started out.
"It's the same old question now," said Mollie, as she stood on the street corner, wondering which way to turn. "Where would we better go to find him?"
"Well, it seems to me," said Whistlebinkie, after a moment's thought, "it seems to me that we'd better look for him in just the same place he was in the last time we saw him."
"I don't see why," returned Mollie. "We never did that before."