"You make me sad! You make me terribly sad!" he yelled (it was a phrase he had caught from four-year-old Blythe). "I hope you'll all go to Bide-a-Wee! You sit there telling stories, and I'm pinned up by my ears and can't hear a word!"
The animals gazed in astonishment. They had been so busy enjoying their tea and talk it had never occurred to them that Budget might like to hear what was going on. They had never taken Budget very seriously, or regarded him as a real animal. Now they gathered under the clothes line and looked up in concern.
Budget, after suffering so long in silence, was in a fierce tantrum. He hung there trembling with rage. He had caught a cold from getting so wet, the kind of cold that is always referred to as "nasty," and that also added to his irritation. Now he kept shouting out all the rude words he could remember from listening to croquet games. He shouted very loud, too; louder than he realized, for with his ears pinned up he could not hear himself.
"Dumb-bells!" he screamed. "Big simps! Boobs! Poor fish! Haven't you any manners for other people's feelings? My gracious! You just
