The resolute-looking woman, presenting cherubic-faced urchin: "This is him—he'll be twelve next April."
Miss Grant: "I'm sure we have some other books that he'll like better than 'The Leopard's Spots.' That is not a child's book—there is a copy at the central library, but it is not kept in the children's room. Wouldn't you like—"
The resolute-looking woman: "No, I wouldn't. I know what I want. I'm his mother, and I guess I know what's what. You needn't try to dictate to me. Have you got it here or haven't you? That's all I want to know. I can't find it over there on those shelves."
Miss Grant: "No; we have not."
The woman: "All right, then, I'll go somewhere else—for he's goin' to read that book, whether or no."
A young lady, an acquaintance of Miss Grant, who thinks she is doing a little slumming: "Oh, Miss Grant, how do you do? I promised that I'd come and help you, you know. How perfectly delightful this is—only some boys on the corner threw snowballs at Jean and he wouldn't bring the automobile nearer than the next block—he's waiting there now, and he's terribly peeved. Now, what shall I do—shall I sit down here and help you?"
A small boy: "Say, teacher, come over here an' make this feller give me my book."
Another small boy: "Aw, I ain't got his book."
First small boy: "Yes, yer have, too!"
The other small boy: "No, I ain't—"