very kind face. He wore a shabby high hat and in his hand he had a small black bag.
"I'm very sorry," I said. "I had my head down and I didn't see you coming."
To my great surprise, instead of getting angry at being knocked down, the little man began to laugh. 'You know this reminds me," he said, "of a time once when I was in India. I ran full tilt into a woman in a thunderstorm. But she was carrying a pitcher of molasses on her head and I had treacle in my hair for weeks afterwards the flies followed me everywhere. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No," I said. "I'm all right."
"It was just as much my fault as it was yours, you know," said the little man. "I had my head down too—but look here, we mustn't sit talking like this. You must be soaked. I know I am. How far have you got to go?"
"My home is on the other side of the town," I said, as we picked ourselves up.
"My Goodness, but that was a wet pavement!" said he. "And I declare it's coming down worse than ever. Come along to my house and get dried. A storm like this can't last."
He took hold of my hand and we started running back down the road together. As we ran I began to wonder who this funny little man could be, and where he lived. I was a perfect stranger to him,
