CHILDREN
JOHNNY—"What makes the new baby at your house cry so much, Tommy?"
TOMMY—"It don't cry so very much—and, anyway, if all your teeth were out, your hair off, and your legs so weak you couldn't stand on them, guess you'd feel like crying yourself."
A little girl was entertaining the visitors while her mother added the finishing touches to her toilet. One of the ladies said with a significant look: "Not very p-r-e-t-t-y," spelling the last word.
"No," said the child quickly; "but awful s-m-a-r-t."
It was time for "baby girl" to be in bed, but no amount of coaxing could get her there. At last her father offered to lie on the bed till the "sandman" arrived. Off she went "pick-a-back," and the tired mother leaned back in her chair with a sigh of content, ready for a hard-earned rest.
Ten minutes—twenty—half an hour, and she was wondering when her husband would be down, when all at once she heard a soft, stealthy pit-a-pat. Nearer came the steps, and then a little white-robed form, with a tiny finger on her lip, stood in the doorway.
"Hush, hush, muvver," she said. "I'se got farver to sleep."
Taking a Chance
Junior was in the habit of coming to the table with a dirty face and, of course, had to be sent away to wash.
One time his mother, nearly losing patience, said: "Junior, why do you persist in coming to the table without washing? You know I always send you away."
"Well," said Junior, meekly, "once you forgot."
TOMMY (after a thumping)—"You're awful hard on me, ma."
MOTHER—"That's because you've been very naughty and wicked."
TOMMY—"Well, gee! You should remember that you didn't die young yourself."
"Can your little baby brother talk yet?" a kindly neighbor inquired of a small lad.
"No, he can't talk, and there ain't no reason why he should talk," was the disgusted reply. "What does he want to talk for when all he has to do is yell a while to get everything in the house that's worth having?"
Mrs. Jones was getting dinner ready when in came little Fred with a happy smile on his face.
"What has mamma's darling been doing this morning?" asked his mother.
"I have been playing Postman," replied little Fred.
"Postman?" exclaimed his mother. "How could you do that when you had no letters?"
"Oh, but I had," replied Fred. "I was looking in your trunk up in your room and I found a packet of letters tied 'round with a ribbon, and I posted one under every door in the street."
A little girl who had visited an Episcopalian church for the first time described the service as follows:
"When we went in they were standing up, singing, but pretty soon they sat down and played hide-and-seek."
"Did what?" asked her mother.
"Well, of course no one went and hid, but they all covered up their faces and counted to themselves."
Training the Other Woman's Child
They all sat round in friendly chat
Discussing mostly this and that,
And a hat.
Until a neighbor's wayward lad
Was seen to act in ways quite bad;
Oh, 'twas sad!
One thought she knew what must be done
With every child beneath the sun—
She had none.
And ere her yarn had been quite spun
Another's theories were begun—
She had one.
The third was not so sure she knew,
But thus and so she thought she'd do—
She had two.
The next one added, "Let me see;
These things work out so differently."
She had three.
The fifth drew on her wisdom store
And said, "I'd have to think it o'er."
She had four.
And then one sighed, "I don't contrive
Fixt rules for boys, they're too alive."
She had five.
"I know it leaves one in a fix,
This straightening of crooked sticks."
She had six.
And one declared, "There's no rule giv'n,
But do your best and trust to heav'n!"
She had sev'n.
—Alice Crowell Hoffman.
Tom, the country six-year-old, presenting himself one day in even more than his usual state of dust and disorder, was asked by his mother if he would not like to be a little city boy, and always be nice and clean in white suits and shoes and stockings. Tom answered scornfully: "They're not children; they're pets."
Up-to-date
KIND STRANGER—"How old is your baby brother, little girl?"
LITTLE GIRL—"He's a this year's model."
The lawyer was sitting at his desk absorbed in the preparation of a brief. So intent was he on his work that he did not hear the door as it was pushed gently open, nor see the curly head that was thrust into his office. A little sob attracted his notice, and turning, he saw a face that was streaked with tears and told plainly that feelings had been hurt.
"Well, my little man, did you want to see me?"
"Are you a lawyer?"
"Yes. What do you want?"
"I want"—and there was a resolute ring in his voice—"I want a divorce from my papa and mamma."
"Well," mused six-year-old Harry, as he was being buttoned into a clean white suit, "this has been an exciting week, hasn't it, mother? Monday we went to the Zoo, Wednesday I lost a tooth, Thursday was Lily's birthday party, Friday I was sick, yesterday I had my hair cut, and now here I am rushing off to Sunday-school."
A little saying from a seven-year-old girl.
NEIGHBOR—"How is your mother this morning?"
LITTLE GIRL—"My mother is at the hospital."
NEIGHBOR—"Why! I did not know your mother was ill."
LITTLE GIRL—"No, it is my aunt who is ill."
NEIGHBOR—"What is the matter with your aunt?"
LITTLE GIRL—"She has a bad headache."
NEIGHBOR—"Why! I did not know any one went to the hospital for a bad headache!"
LITTLE GIRL (looking up quickly with a very interested, bright look on her face)—"That is not the real reason, I think; they are spelling things on me."
A little boy of seven was being scolded in a room adjoining one in which his grandma lay ill. He motioned toward grandma's room and quietly said, "Sh—! it's too much for her; it'll wear her out."
Later, grandma thanked him for his consideration, whereupon he replied, "Don't mention it, gran; that was fifty-fifty—part for you and part for me."
George was hampered by a mother whose idea of godliness was cleanliness. Notwithstanding the frequent baths to which he was condemned George thrived exceedingly. One day a neighbor remarked on his rapid growth.
"Yes," said George, "that's ma's fault—she waters me so much."
See also Boys.