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 The old man stood a little straighter. “Eish,” he said, “Who cares if it’s raining? Let’s go for a walk, boy!” And off they went, splashing in the puddles.

There, at the zebra crossing, stood grumpy Mrs Makabela, the traffic cop. She looked cold, and wet, and miserable.

The old man knew just what to do.

“Morning, Mrs Makabela!” he called, and smiled his biggest, brightest smile.

But Mrs Makabela... did not smile back.