“I took a correspondence course, you see.”
“A correspondence course?” murmured Tommy questioningly.
“In Non-Stupidity. Try it.”
“Thank you, I—I might some time.”
“Time!” exclaimed the fairy, twirling his hat again on the tip of the feather and counting the spins; “dear me! Dear me! I’m—seven—eight—nine—nine minutes late! Did you ever? I really must go, I really must. Here is the Magic Football——”
“Oh, is it a magic football?” exclaimed Tommy in surprise.
“Of course it is! There you go again with your silly questions! Taking up my time! Didn’t I just tell you that I was—— How many minutes late did I say?”
“Nine, I think.”
“‘You think’! You ought to know. Now I’ll have to do it again.” He spun the hat and it stopped at six. “I thought you were wrong,” he said in triumph. “You said it was nine! Stupid!”
Tommy thought it best not to argue with him. “What—what do I do with the football?” he asked.