“Repeat, if you please!” said the fairy. Tommy did so, stumblingly.
The fairy grunted. “Stupid!” he muttered. “Didn’t know the incan. What are we coming to? What are we coming to? In the old days boys didn’t have to be told such things. Modern education—puh!” And the fairy fairly glared at Tommy.
“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Fairy,” he said.
“Hm, at least you have manners,” said the fairy, his ill temper vanishing. “Well, here it is.” He tapped the football he held with the claw-like fingers of his other hand.
“But—but I didn’t wish for a football,” faltered Tommy disappointedly.
“Of course you didn’t! Who said you did? You wished you might play in Thursday’s football game and be a hero and win the game for your team, didn’t you? Or, if you didn’t, how much? Or, other things being as stated, when?”
“Yes, sir, I did! And could I—could you really give me my wish?”
“Drat the boy! What am I here for? Wasting my time! Wasting my time! Fiddledunk!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said fiddledunk. I always say fiddledunk when angry. What do you say?”