“But suppose I wanted to kick it a long, long distance?”
“Then say ‘Og’ several times. You’ll have to try it for yourself and learn the ography of it. Now call it.”
“Come,” said Tommy doubtfully.
The next instant the football was rolling into the fireplace, having jumped from the fairy’s arms, collided violently with Tommy’s nose and bounced to the floor again.
“Save it!” shrieked the fairy, jumping excitedly about on the rug.
But Tommy’s eyes were full of tears, produced by the blow on his nose, and by the time he had leaped to the rescue the ball was lodged between grate and chimney and the fairy, still jumping and shrieking, was quite beside himself with alarm. Tommy pulled the football out before it had begun to scorch, however, and the fairy’s excitement subsided as suddenly as it had begun.
“Stupid!” he said severely. “You almost made me ill. The odor of burning leather always upsets me. It was most unfeeling of you.”
“But I didn’t know,” replied Tommy with spirit, rubbing his nose gingerly, “it was going to come so hard!”
“You should have known. Seems to me, for a boy who goes to school, you are very deficient in ography and comeology.”