MR. BUSY

There has never been anybody quite like Mr Busy. He could do things ten minutes as fast as ever you or I could.
For instance, if he was reading this book, he'd have finished it by now.
He lived in a very busy-looking house which he'd built himselt,
As you can see.
It had lots of doors and windows. and do you know what it was called?
Weekend cottage!
Do you know why?
Because that's how long it took him to built it!
One fine summer morning, Mr Busy was up and about bright and early at 6 o'clock.
He jumped out of bed and had a bath, and cleaned his teeth, and cooked his breakfast, and ate his breakfast, and read the paper, and washed up, and made his bed, and cleaned the house from top to bottom.
By which time it was 7 o'clock.
Busy Mr. Busy!
Now, next door Mr Busy lived someone who wasn't quite such a busy person.
Mr Slow!
If he was reading this book he'd ....read....it...like...this!
He'd still be on the first page!
And that same fine summer morning, at five past seven, when Mr Busy knocked at his door, Mr Slow was fast asleep in bed.
He'd gone to bed for an afternoon nap the day before, and somehow hadn't woken up until he heard Mr Busy knocking at his door.
"Who's ...that...knocking...at...my...door?" he called downstairs.
"Good morning," cried Mr Busy."Can I come in?"
And, without waiting for an answer, he went inside.
"Where are you?" he called.
"Up...stairs,"came the slow reply.
So Mr Busy went upstairs, two at a time.
"Good heavens!" he said."You're still in bed!"
And he made Mr Slow get up.
And he made his bed for him, and cooked his breakfast for him, and cleaned his house for him.
Poor Mr. Slow.
He ated to be rushed and fussed.
"Right," said Mr Busy briskly. It's a fine day. Let's go for a picnic."
Mr Slow pulled a face.
" I....don't like ...picnics," he complained.