“He’ll get us in trouble yet,” said another as the group scattered.
“Go on home!” the headless man was shouting. “Go on home to your mothers, every last one of you!”
“I can’t go home to mine,” Muffs said sadly.
“Why not?” the man demanded. He came right down the steps to look at her as if he had seen her somewhere before and wanted to remember.
“I can’t go home because my mother’s in New York and I’m here,” the child replied. “That’s why.”
“She ought to take better care of you,” snapped the headless man as Muffs turned and ran with the others. Tommy was ahead. He was still waving the broom and shouting but Muffs’ flat-iron duck had grown heavy and hard to pull.
“Tommy! Tommy!” she called after him. “Don’t run so fast! I can’t keep up with you.”
So Tommy turned around and the Tailor turned around and, for the first time, the headless man saw that he was wearing glasses. The bows were hooked securely to his fibre ears, giving him the appearance of a creature half-man, half-cat.
“Wait a minute!” he shouted. “Whose glasses are you carrying around on that ridiculous-looking broom?”
“Whose glasses!” gasped Tommy, stopping for breath.