“I’m going to have some fun with him when the Boss goes out to lunch,” said the office boy to himself.

Now the Clown felt rather strange in the office.  His part in life was to make joy and laughter, and he could not do it sitting up straight and stiff on a desk.  He looked around, and he saw, not far from him, a jolly little man, like a dwarf.

“I wish I could speak to him,” thought the Clown.  “He looks as if he belonged to the toy family.”

And you can imagine how surprised the Clown was when, all of a sudden, the Man lifted the head right off the queer-looking little dwarf and dipped his pen down inside him!

“Why, he’s an ink well!” thought the Clown.  “That’s what he is!  An ink well!  And his head comes off the same as the Porcelain Cat’s head lifts off for matches to be put inside her.  How very odd!  I’d like to talk to that chap.”

When the Man went out to lunch, into the office hurried the office boy with a grin on his face.

“What do you want?” asked the typewriter girl.  “I want to make that Clown jiggle,” was the answer.  “I’m going to have some fun with him.”

“No, you mustn’t!” exclaimed the girl.  “The Boss won’t like it if you touch him.  If you break him—­”

“Aw, I won’t break him!” cried the boy.  “Let me have him!”

He made a grab for the Calico Clown, and the girl tried to stop the boy.  As a result the Clown was knocked off the desk to the floor.

“Oh, dear!  I hope my glued leg is not broken!” thought the Clown.

CHAPTER VII

IN THE WASH-BASKET

“There, now look what you did!” cried the girl.

“I didn’t do it!  You did!” said the boy.  “If you hadn’t jiggled it out of my hand when I was taking it down it wouldn’t have fallen.”

I don’t know how long they might have gone on disputing in this fashion if the office boy from next door had not poked his head in and called: 

“What’s the matter?”

Then he saw the Calico Clown lying on the floor and he added: 

“Has Santa Claus been here?” and he laughed.

“It came out of the pocket of the Boss,” explained the first office boy.  “He put it on his desk.  I was going to look at it and pull the strings, ’cause the Boss is out to lunch, but she jiggled my hand and made me drop it.  Now it’s busted.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” said the second office boy.  “I’ll see.”

He picked the Calico Clown up off the floor, punched him in the chest, and the gay red and yellow chap banged his cymbals together.

“He’s all right so far,” said the second office boy.  “Now we’ll pull the strings.”

“And there’s where trouble may come in,” thought the Calico Clown himself, for he heard and saw and felt all that went on.  “I’m almost sure my glued leg is broken,” said the Clown to himself.

But when the strings were pulled, one after another, and the arms and legs and head of the funny fellow twisted and turned and jerked, the two office boys and the typewriter girl laughed.  And the Clown himself was glad, for he felt that he was not broken.