“The bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers went higher and higher making that skyscraper, till at last they were half way up to the moon, saying to each other while they worked, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’ “Yes, they were halfway up to the moon. And that night looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving,’ and they said later, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’ “And the bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers said to each other, ‘If we go on now and make this skyscraper it will miss the moon and we will never go up in the elevator and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’ “So they took the skyscraper down and started making it over again, aiming it straight at the moon again. And one night standing looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving,’ saying later to each other, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’ “And now they stand in the streets at night there in the Village of Eggs Up, stretching their necks looking at the moon, and asking each other, ‘Why does the moon move and how can we stop the moon moving?’ “Whenever I saw them standing there stretching their necks looking at the moon, I had a zig-zag ache in my left hind foot and I wanted to tell them what the baby alligator told me, the secret of how to stop the moon moving. One night that ache zig-zagged me so—way inside my left hind foot—it zig-zagged so I ran home here a thousand miles.” The Potato Face Blind Man wriggled his shoe—and the green rat wriggled—and the long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of the tail of the green rat wriggled. “Is your rheumatism better?” the old man asked. The rat answered, “Any rheumatism is better if you run a thousand miles twice.” And Blixie Bimber going home with the fifteen cent hash hatchet for her mother to chop hash, Blixie said to herself, “It is a large morning to be thoughtful about.” [Illustration] [Illustration] Slipfoot and How He Nearly Always Never Gets What He Goes After Blixie Bimber flipped out of the kitchen one morning, first saying good-by to the dish-pan, good-by to the dish-rag, good-by to the dish-towel for wiping dishes. Under one arm she put a basket of peonies she picked, under the other arm she put a basket of jonquils she picked. Then she flipped away up the street and downtown where she put the baskets of peonies and jonquils one on each side of the Potato Face Blind Man. “I picked the pink and lavender peonies and I picked the yellow jonquils for you to be smelling one on each side of you this fine early summer morning,” she said to the Potato Face. “Have you seen anybody good to see lately?” “Slipfoot was here this morning,” said the old man.