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Trot turned to look at him, and her sweet face was grave and curious.
"
"
"
"
I wonder who you are," she said.
My name is Pessim," said he, with an air of pride. "I'm called the Observer."
Oh. What do you observe?" asked the little girl.
Everything I see," was the reply, in a more surly tone. Then Pessim drew back
with a startled exclamation and looked at some footprints in the sand. "Why,
good gracious me!" he cried in distress.
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"
"
What's the matter now?" asked Cap'n Bill.
Someone has pushed the earth in! Don't you see it?
It isn't pushed in far enough to hurt anything," said Trot, examining the
footprints.
"
Everything hurts that isn't right," insisted the man. "If the earth were pushed
in a mile, it would be a great calamity, wouldn't it?"
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I s'pose so," admitted the little girl.
Well, here it is pushed in a full inch! That's a twelfth of a foot, or a little more
than a millionth part of a mile. Therefore it is one-millionth part of a
calamity--Oh, dear! How dreadful!" said Pessim in a wailing voice.
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Try to forget it, sir," advised Cap'n Bill, soothingly. "It's beginning to rain.
Let's get under your shed and keep dry."
"
"
Raining! Is it really raining?" asked Pessim, beginning to weep.
It is," answered Cap'n Bill, as the drops began to descend, "and I don't see
any way to stop it--although I'm some observer myself."
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"
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No; we can't stop it, I fear," said the man. "Are you very busy just now?"
I won't be after I get to the shed," replied the sailor-man.
Then do me a favor, please," begged Pessim, walking briskly along behind
them, for they were hastening to the shed.
"
"
Depends on what it is," said Cap'n Bill.
I wish you would take my umbrella down to the shore and hold it over the
poor fishes till it stops raining. I'm afraid they'll get wet," said Pessim.
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