Arguing was useless. He was such a little fellow, but fertile in expedients.
“I don’t want ever to use this strap on my little boy. I hope he will be good.”
“What is good and what is bad.”
“Come to bed, Jack. You’re getting silly.”
On Monday morning Jack went to Kindergarten. The house was like another place. And Jack was very much entertained. He soon learned what a “punch below the belt” meant, and a “biff in the eye” and several other fighting terms.
“And they’re a set of gumps,” he declared. “They can’t read right off, they’ve got to write it, and I can read most anything and spell words, too. But they make pictures and lovely things, and sing. Yes, I like to go.”