“I WANT TO FIND MY PAPA.”
A lady while walking in a city street met a little girl between two and three years old, evidently lost, and crying bitterly. Taking her by the hand, the lady asked her where she was going.
“I am going down town to find my papa,” was the reply, between sobs, of the child.
“What is your papa’s name?” asked the lady.
“His name is papa,” replied the innocent little thing.
“But what is his other name?” queried the lady; “what does your mamma call him?”
“She calls him papa,” persisted the baby.
The lady then took the little one by the hand and led her along, saying,—
“You had better come with me; I guess you came from this way.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to go back; I want to find my papa,” replied the little girl, crying afresh as if her heart would break.