was playing with her tricycle in the street and Wilfred saw her. He loved riding on tricycles because he hadn't got one himself—so up he ran and caught hold of the handlebar.
"'Get off, Janet. I want a ride," said Wilfred.
"No," said Janet. "You are much bigger than I am, and my mother - I mustn't let bigger children ride my little tricycle in case they break it."
"Well, Pm jolly well going to ride it!" said Wilfred. He dragged Janet off her tricycle and she fell on the ground. Wilfred was always so rough. Then he got on the little tricycle himself and rode off quickly n the street, ringing the bell loudly.
My word, how quickly he went! You should have seen him. All the other children skipped out of the way, and even the grown-ups did, too. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! went the bell—ting-a-ling-a-ling!
Wilfred came to where the street began to go down a little hill. On he went, just as fast—and then he came to a roadway. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. Over the kerb he went, crash! The tricycle fell and Wilfred fell too,
He didn't hurt himself—but the tricycle was quite broken! The handlebar was off, the bell was spoilt and wouldn't ring, and one of the pedals was broken!
"YOU HORRID BOY. YOU'VE BROKEN MY TRICYCLE," CRIED THE LITTLE GIRL.
A little fat man with pointed ears and green eyes saw the accident. It was Mr. Pink-Whistle, of course, trotting along as usual to see what bad things in the world he could put right.
He hurried up to the boy who had fallen, meaning to pick him up and comfort him, but before he could get there a little girl ran up and began to scold him, crying bitterly all the time.
"You horrid boy, Wilfred! Now you've broken my tricycle and I did love it so much. My mother will be very angry with me because you rode it. I shan't be able to get it mended, and it will have to be put away in the shed and never ridden any more!"
And Janet cried bucketfuls of tears all down herself till her dress was quite damp. The other children came running up to see what had happened. They glared at Wilfred, who made a face and slapped Janet because she cried so loudly.
"It's a silly tricycle anyway!" said Wilfred. "Stupid baby one. Good gracious, I might have broken my leg, falling over like that!"
He stalked off, whistling, leaving the others to pick up the tricycle and to comfort poor Janet.
"Horrid boy!" said Tom "Don't cry, Janet."
"Yes, but it isn't fair!" wept Janet. "It's my tricycle, and he took it away from me—and now it's broken and my mother will be so cross."
Mr. Pink-Whistle was sorry for the little girl. He walked up to the children and patted Janet's golden head.
"Now, now, don't cry any more," he said. "Maybe I can mend your tricycle. Tell me some more about the boy who broke it."
Well, you should have heard the things that came pouring out about Wilfred, the mean boy! Mr. Pink-Whistle didn't care whether it was telling tales or not—he just had to know about him. And soon he knew so much that a big frown came above his green eyes and he pursed up his pink mouth.
"Hmmmm," said Mr. Pink-Whistle, deep down in his throat. "I must see into this. That boy wants punishing. But first we will mend your tricycle, little girl."
Well, Mr. Pink-Whistle took the broken tricycle along to a bicycle shop, and soon it was as good as new. The handlebar was put on again very firmly. A new bell was bought and fixed on. It was much better than the other one. The pedal was nicely mended—and then Janet got on her tricycle and rode off in delight.
"Oh, thank you!" she cried. "But I do hope I don't meet Wilfred! He will want to ride my tricycle again and break it!"
"I'll look after Wilfred!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle. And then, in his very extraordinary and sudden way, he disappeared! One minute he was there—and the next he wasn't. But really and truly he was there—but quite invisible, because, as you know, he was half-magic.
He had seen Wilfred coming along again—and Mr, Pink-Whistle meant to watch
"'Get off, Janet. I want a ride," said Wilfred.
"No," said Janet. "You are much bigger than I am, and my mother - I mustn't let bigger children ride my little tricycle in case they break it."
"Well, Pm jolly well going to ride it!" said Wilfred. He dragged Janet off her tricycle and she fell on the ground. Wilfred was always so rough. Then he got on the little tricycle himself and rode off quickly n the street, ringing the bell loudly.
My word, how quickly he went! You should have seen him. All the other children skipped out of the way, and even the grown-ups did, too. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! went the bell—ting-a-ling-a-ling!
Wilfred came to where the street began to go down a little hill. On he went, just as fast—and then he came to a roadway. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. Over the kerb he went, crash! The tricycle fell and Wilfred fell too,
He didn't hurt himself—but the tricycle was quite broken! The handlebar was off, the bell was spoilt and wouldn't ring, and one of the pedals was broken!
"YOU HORRID BOY. YOU'VE BROKEN MY TRICYCLE," CRIED THE LITTLE GIRL.
A little fat man with pointed ears and green eyes saw the accident. It was Mr. Pink-Whistle, of course, trotting along as usual to see what bad things in the world he could put right.
He hurried up to the boy who had fallen, meaning to pick him up and comfort him, but before he could get there a little girl ran up and began to scold him, crying bitterly all the time.
"You horrid boy, Wilfred! Now you've broken my tricycle and I did love it so much. My mother will be very angry with me because you rode it. I shan't be able to get it mended, and it will have to be put away in the shed and never ridden any more!"
And Janet cried bucketfuls of tears all down herself till her dress was quite damp. The other children came running up to see what had happened. They glared at Wilfred, who made a face and slapped Janet because she cried so loudly.
"It's a silly tricycle anyway!" said Wilfred. "Stupid baby one. Good gracious, I might have broken my leg, falling over like that!"
He stalked off, whistling, leaving the others to pick up the tricycle and to comfort poor Janet.
"Horrid boy!" said Tom "Don't cry, Janet."
"Yes, but it isn't fair!" wept Janet. "It's my tricycle, and he took it away from me—and now it's broken and my mother will be so cross."
Mr. Pink-Whistle was sorry for the little girl. He walked up to the children and patted Janet's golden head.
"Now, now, don't cry any more," he said. "Maybe I can mend your tricycle. Tell me some more about the boy who broke it."
Well, you should have heard the things that came pouring out about Wilfred, the mean boy! Mr. Pink-Whistle didn't care whether it was telling tales or not—he just had to know about him. And soon he knew so much that a big frown came above his green eyes and he pursed up his pink mouth.
"Hmmmm," said Mr. Pink-Whistle, deep down in his throat. "I must see into this. That boy wants punishing. But first we will mend your tricycle, little girl."
Well, Mr. Pink-Whistle took the broken tricycle along to a bicycle shop, and soon it was as good as new. The handlebar was put on again very firmly. A new bell was bought and fixed on. It was much better than the other one. The pedal was nicely mended—and then Janet got on her tricycle and rode off in delight.
"Oh, thank you!" she cried. "But I do hope I don't meet Wilfred! He will want to ride my tricycle again and break it!"
"I'll look after Wilfred!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle. And then, in his very extraordinary and sudden way, he disappeared! One minute he was there—and the next he wasn't. But really and truly he was there—but quite invisible, because, as you know, he was half-magic.
He had seen Wilfred coming along again—and Mr, Pink-Whistle meant to watch
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