Some day when I’ve made my pile
I’ll come home in grand old style,
So be patient just a while,
Keep for me your same old smile,
Mother dear, won’t you?”
I guess when that hobo dog’s mother received his picture she smiled,—or maybe she cried, for sometimes we cry when a happy sadness comes into our heart.
THE MILKY WAY
Now let me see where we left off in the last story. Sometimes I get all mixed up, and perhaps I’d never get things right if I hadn’t made a book out of these stories, so that I can look back and see whether it was Uncle John Hare or the Big Brown Bear, or the Yellow Dog Tramp, or Aunt Columbia who had to stop doing something because I didn’t have any more room.
Little Jack Shook Paws With the Great Bear.