performance.

Bim, under the window and quite close to Lucy, was giving a party. He
had possessed himself of some of Dorothy's dolls' tea things, he had
begged a sponge cake from nurse, and could be heard breaking from time
to time into such sentences as, "Do have a little more tweacle pudding,
Mrs. Smith. It's the best tweacle," and, "It's a nice day, isn't it!"
but he was sorely interrupted by the noisy festivities of the Indians
who broke, frequently, into realistic cries of "Oh! Roger, you're
pulling my hair," or "I won't play if you don't look out!"

It may be that these interruptions disturbed the actuality of Bim's
festivities, or it may be that the rattling of the rain upon the window
panes diverted his attention. Once he broke into a chuckle. "Isn't they
banging on the window, Lucy?" he said, but she was, it appeared, too
deeply engaged to answer him. He found that, in a moment of abstraction,
he had eaten the whole of the sponge cake, so that it was obvious that
the party was over. "Good-bye, Mrs. Smith. It was really nice of you to
come. Good-bye, dear, Mrs. ---- I think the wain almost isn't coming
now."

He said farewell to them all and climbed upon the window seat. Here,
gazing down into the Square, he saw that the rain was stopping, and, on
the farther side, above the roofs of the houses, a little splash of gold
had crept into the grey. He watched the gold, heard the rain coming more
slowly; at first, "spatter-spatter-spatter," then, "spatter--spatter."
Then one drop very slowly after another drop. Then he saw that the sun
from somewhere far away had found out the wet paths in the garden, and
was now stealing, very secretly, along them. Soon it would strike the
seat, and then the statue of the funny fat man in all his clothes, and