“Not much helpin’ me pushin’ you!” said Ginger bitterly.
“Your false teeth seems to be makin’ you very grumpy!” said William severely. “Oh, come on! They’ll be comin’ out soon.”
Ginger began to push the bath-chair at first reluctantly, but finally warmed to his task. He tore along at a break-neck speed. William’s face was wreathed in blissful smiles. He held the precious horn-rimmed spectacles in place with one hand and with the other clutched on to the side of the bath-chair, which swayed wildly as Ginger pursued his lightning and uneven way. They stopped for breath at the end of the street.
“You’re a jolly good pusher!” said William.
Praise from William was rare. Ginger, in spite of his breathlessness, looked pleased.
“Oh, that’s nothin’,” he said modestly. “I could do it ten times as fast as that. I’m a bit tired of false teeth though. I’m goin’ to stop clickin’ for a bit.”
William tucked in his rug and adjusted his spectacles again.
“Do I look like a pore old man?” he said proudly.
Ginger gave a scornful laugh.
“No, you don’t. You’ve gotter boy’s face. You’ve got no lines nor whiskers nor screwedupness like an old man.”