even when putting sawdust in gear-boxes and fiddling the mileages of cars with his electric drill.
In an effort to save face, he adopted a casual attitude,
hoping that his staff would think that he actually meant to keep his hat on all day long just for the heck of it, like gangsters do in the films.
When he got home that evening he still couldn't get the hat off.
“Don't be silly,” his wife said. “Come here. I'll take it off for you.” She gave the hat a sharp yank.
Mr Wormwood let out a yell that rattled the window-panes. “Ow-w-w!” he screamed. “Don't do that! Let go! You'll take half the skin off my forehead!”
Matilda, nestling in her usual chair, was watching this performance over the rim of her book with some interest.
“What's the matter, daddy?” she said. “Has your head suddenly swollen or something?”
The father glared at his daughter with deep suspicion, but said nothing. How could he?
Mrs Wormwood said to him, “It must be Superglue. It couldn't be anything else.
That'll teach you to go playing round with nasty stuff like that. I expect you were trying to stick another feather in your hat.”
“I haven't touched the flaming stuff!” Mr Wormwood shouted.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색