Maybe I'll get dead when it rains."
"Don't you believe it," Pee-Wee said; "Licorice Stick's been
telling you that. Didn't you say you were going to be a giant first?"
"You're not a giant."
Alas, Pee-Wee knew this only too well. He knew too that it would
be quite impossible to get anything in the way of a connected
narrative out of this stern little autocrat. Whether he had actually
been "seeing things" or had only seen something in his queer little
inner life, who should say? Evidently no one took him very seriously.
And this fact did not seem to trouble him at all. Removing the
compass cord from about his neck, Pee-Wee advanced to proffer his
second gift to the Bungel family. Little did that stiff, serious
little figure know that the much-needed money which Mrs. Bungel had
been wise enough to take from her husband, had come from the same
source. Pee-Wee searched in vain for any sign of hands in those
enveloping blankets. There were no hands, there seemed to be no
body even; just two eyes looking straight ahead as if their owner
were not going to assist at all in the transfer of the little gift.
So Pee-Wee laid the compass on the porch rail.
"There you are," he said; "that needle always points to the north.
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