THE CROSS-PATCH.
BY MRS. EMILY SHAW FARMAN.
I KNOW a little black-eyed boy, with tight curls all over his head. He is very sweet and pleasant when things go right; but he has days when everything seems to go wrong, and then he is called Cross-Patch. His other name is Frank. When these days come round, everybody wishes it was night.
Cross-Patch comes down to breakfast with a red nose and a snuffle, and drags his feet along as if they were flat-irons.
Papa hears him coming, and says, “Falling barometer, heavy showers, and, possibly, storms.” Papa says this as if he were reading the newspaper, but he is really reading Frank.
As Cross-Patch comes into the room and bangs the door, Tom, his big brother, exclaims, “Indicative mood!” and Susie, who goes to the High School, laughs and says, “Objective case, and dis-agrees with everybody in the first person singular!”
“I don’t care! I ain’t! and you shan’t laugh at me!” roars Frank.
“Croth-pash!” lisps little Lucy.