"Come to think of it, I didn't miss you, did I? Hurt? And by the way, you didn't miss me. We certainly made a mess of each other, didn't we? Wait until I find my glasses and I'll have a look at you."
The glasses were lying in the dust. He rescued them, polished the lens, and placed them on his nose. And then Bert knew him.
"You're the Butterfly Man," he said impulsively. "You gave a talk at our school."
"Did I? I've spouted my piece at a lot of schools. Which one is yours?"
"Springham High."
"Oh, yes. I did talk there. Is that why you ran into me and knocked me down?"
"You ran into me," Bert defended.
The man's face wreathed in a large, friendly smile. "Now, don't be shying away from your honors. Considering that I'm not the stoutest person in the world it ought to be quite a feat to hit me. However, let's see what's happened to your bicycle."
They found the wheel lying at the foot of a tree. One handlebar was bent far out of its original shape. Tom Woods surveyed the bar appreciatively.
"That," he said, "is what I call a successful wreck. If you tried it again you couldn't mash things up so well. Got a tool kit with you?"
"No, sir."
