"Don't fail to
bring back the lost half-hour!"
So Bobo rode over the hills and far away. Every now and then he would
stop a passer-by and ask him if he had seen a lost half-hour.
The first person whom he thus questioned was an old man who was
wandering down the high road that leads from the Kingdom of the East to
the Kingdom of the West.
"A lost half-hour?" said the old man. "I've lost something much more
serious, I've lost my reputation. You have n't seen a lost reputation
lying about here, have you? It was very dignified and wore
tortoise-shell glasses."
But Bobo had to answer "No," and the old man wandered on again.
Another day the simpleton encountered a tall, dark, fierce kind of
fellow, who answered his polite question with a scream of rage.
"A half-hour," he roared. "No, I have n't seen your half-hour; I would
n't tell you if I had; what's more, I don't want to see it. I'm looking
for something I've lost myself. I've lost my temper. I lost it two years
ago at home, and have n't been able to find it anywhere since.
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