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