cutting up, and playing jokes. But I work myself. I hold ink for the
Boss."

"I see you do," answered the Clown. "I suppose I don't really belong
here, made only for fun, as I am. And I did not want to come here. It
was quite accidental. I was brought."

"How!" asked the Ink-Well Dwarf.

"In the pocket of the Man they call the Boss," was the reply. And then
the Clown told of how he had fallen out of the tree.

All the remainder of the day the Calico Clown sat on the desk of the
Man, wondering what would happen to him. At last he found out.

At the close of the afternoon, when no more business was to be done,
the Man arose and closed his desk. He put papers in his different
pockets to take home with him, and then he saw the Calico Clown.

"Oh, I mustn't forget you!" he said, speaking out loud as he sometimes
did when alone. And he was alone in the office now, for the boy and
the typewriter girl had gone. "I'll take you home and ask Arnold or
Mirabell to whom you belong," went on the man. "You are some child's
toy, I'm sure of that, and one of my children may know where you
live."

The Calico Clown knew this to be so, and he knew that either Arnold or
Mirabell would at once be able to say that the Clown belonged to
Sidney, for they had seen Sidney playing with this toy.