“Here is a pitcher of milk,” he added, as he sat it on the table; “and, here are two mugs. O dear, O dear, why this mug has no handle! Now how could that handle ever {6} have jumped right off the mug and we not see it! The first thing tomorrow, I must get a new handle.”
“Please, sir,” said Tommy, “the handle is gone from the pitcher, too.”
“No, you don’t mean to tell me that that handle also is gone?” said Mr. Poodle, taking the pitcher. “Yes, it certainly has. Now, how could that have happened? Oh, I know. Those two handles were lonely the same as I was lonely, and the mug handle said to the pitcher handle: Mr. Pitcher handle, you can stay in this house if you wish, but as for me, why was I trimmed all up with colored paint and made so handsome, if it wasn’t for some little boy; and now, there is no boy in this house, so I am just going to leave! Of course, then the pitcher handle thought he would be very lonely without the mug handle, and so they went away together.”
Tommy laughed merrily. “You are a very funny man,” he said. “Handles couldn’t say all that, but it was just a fine story. Please tell it to me again.”
“Well, if I tell all that again,” said Mr. Poodle, “why then our roast turkey will be getting cold.”
Tommy laughed gaily. “You certainly are a very funny man,” he said. “This isn’t roast turkey, this is bread!”
“Let me see,” said Mr. Poodle. “Well, so it is. Now, how could I ever have made such a silly mistake.”
“Never mind, sir,” said the boy. “I am sure the bread is very nice, and I just love milk. Can we play now?”
“Yes indeed,” answered Mr. Poodle.
When Tommy had eaten the bread and milk, Mr. Poodle took him in his arms to the big easy chair. “What shall we play now?” asked the toymaker. {7}