The next afternoon the farmer reappeared with a fresh protest. The lieutenant listened to him and then said rather impatiently:
“Say, look here, my friend, it strikes me you’re somewhat fussy. The place where these men are now going into the creek is fully a quarter of a mile from your house if not farther.”
“Yes, I know,” said the farmer, “but you see, Mister, both of my gals has got spyglasses.”
§ 128 Down to the Solid Portions
It seems the mother was determined her six year old daughter should learn table manners and especially that she should eat what was put before her without question or complaint. On a morning at breakfast the lady sat behind the coffee urn reading her mail. Little Mildred was perched upon a high-chair at the other end of the table. In front of the latter the maid put down a cup holding a soft-boiled egg.
“Please, mama,” said Mildred. “I don’t want an egg this morning. I had an egg yesterday morning.”
“Never mind what you had yesterday morning,” said the mother without looking up from her reading. “Eggs are good for you. Now you open that egg and eat every bite of it.”
Mildred sniffled but obeyed. Presently her voice was again uplifted in protest:
“Mama, I don’t like this egg. I don’t think it’s a very nice egg.”
“It is a nice egg,” contradicted the mother, still immersed in her correspondence. “Go right ahead.”