I hadn't gone very far when my head bumped into something soft and I sat down suddenly on the pavement. I looked up to see whom I had run into. And there in front of me, sitting on the wet pavement like myself, was a little round man with a very kind face. He wore a shabby high hat and in his hand he had a small black bag.
"I'm very sorry," I said. "I had my head down and I didn't see you coming."
To my great surprise, instead of getting angry at being knocked down, the little man began to laugh.
"You know this reminds me," he said, "of a time once when I was in India. I ran full tilt into a woman in a thunderstorm. But she was carrying a pitcher of molasses on her head and I had treacle in my hair for weeks afterwards--the flies followed me everywhere. I didn't hurt you, did 1?"
"No," I said. "I'm all right."
"It was just as much my fault as it was yours, you know," said the little man. "I had my head down too--but look here, we mustn't sit talking like this. You must be soaked. I know I am.
How far have you got to go?"
"My home is on the other side of the town," I said, as we picked ourselves up.
"My Goodness, but that was a wet pavement!" said he. "And I declare it's coming down worse than ever. Come along to my house and get dried. A storm like this can't last."