"Matter!" screamed the Man; "why, your porridge is so hot it has
burned me."
"Fiddlesticks!" she replied, "the porridge is quite cold."
"Try it yourself!" he cried. So she tried it and found it very cold
and pleasant. But the Man was so astonished to see her eat the
porridge that had blistered his own mouth that he became frightened
and ran out of the house and down the street as fast as he could go.
The policeman on the first corner saw him running, and promptly
arrested him, and he was marched off to the magistrate for trial.
"What is your name?" asked the magistrate.
"I have n't any," replied the Man; for of course as he was the only
Man in the Moon it was n't necessary he should have a name.
"Come, come, no nonsense!" said the magistrate, "you must have some
name. Who are you?"
"Why, I 'm the Man in the Moon."
"That 's rubbish!" said the magistrate, eyeing the prisoner severely,
"you may be a man, but you 're not in the moon-you 're in Norwich."
"That is true," answered the Man, who was quite bewildered by this
idea.
"And of course you must be called something," continued the
magistrate.
"Well, then," said the prisoner, "if I 'm not the Man in the Moon I
must be the Man out of the Moon; so call me that."
"Very good," replied the judge; "now, then, where did you come from?"
"The moon.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85