“Can’t you say thank you?”
“Fank you,” said Pollio with a fearful pull at his front-hair; and over he went in a somerset.
The strings were long, and the balloons flew up like birds into the morning sky.
“Oh, if they had only made such things when I was a boy! It’s sad to think how much I’ve lost!” said Nunky with a make-believe sigh.
Pollio was very sorry for his uncle. It must be hard to grow up and not care for balloons! Nunky would never, never, be a boy again: his good times were over.
“Poor Nunky! He has got to stay old,” thought Pollio as the young man walked into the house with a bounding step.
He was very far from old, and, as for good times, felt much happier than either of his little nephews, if they had only known it. Teddy had gone in swimming the day before without leave, and naughty Pollio had just got a grass stain on the knees of his new “pair o’ clo’es;” so how could either of the boys be quite happy?
When they went in to breakfast, their mother and aunt Ann were talking about the Fantastics.
“Billy Barstow and a few other wild boys are to ride colts and mules,” said aunt Ann; “and I’m afraid somebody will get hurt.”
“Oh, no! everybody will keep out of the way,” returned uncle Rufus. “The Fantastics will pass by at eight o’clock, and then the danger will be over.”