that Man's pocket. I was nearly smothered there, but of course it was
better than being in the tree. I'll do some more tricks for them if
the Man pulls more strings."

And the Man did. He pulled the strings fastened to the Clown's arms,
and they jiggled and joggled in a merry fashion, so the girl and the
office boy laughed harder than ever.

"Well, how in the world did that Clown toy come to be in my pocket?
That's what I want to know," said the Man, very much puzzled.

"Maybe one of the children put it in," suggested the girl. She knew
the Man had children at home.

"No, I hardly think it was any of MY children," said the Man. "Arnold
has no toy like this. He has a Bold Tin Soldier, as he calls him, and
some soldier men. And my little girl, Mirabell, has a Lamb on Wheels.
But neither of them has a Calico Clown."

"Perhaps some of their playmates called at your house, to have fun
with Arnold or Mirabell," said the typewriter girl, "and they may have
dropped the Clown into your pocket as your coat hung on the rack."

"Yes, that could have happened," said the Man. "But I remember I put
my hand in my pocket as I left the house, to make sure I had some
letters I was to mail. The Clown was not in my pocket then. He must
have got in after I left my house. And how could that happen, I should
like to know! I didn't go in any place. How could it have happened?"

Of course neither the office boy nor the typewriter girl could tell.