“Good!” said Tiny. “Does he play the rest of the day?”
“He play, play, play,” smiled the man, and passed down the street.
“My,” thought Tiny, as she walked along, “I wish I had taken some money with me this morning. If I had a nickel, I’d buy some bananas from that banana-man’s fruit-stand. I certainly am hungry.”
“Want banan’s?” inquired the man as she stood looking at his wares.
Tiny nodded. “I haven’t any money,” she said, trying to keep from crying.
“Never mind,” smiled the man, “I had little girl once. She gone. She die. I give banan’s you.” He handed her a half-dozen bananas no bigger than pencil points.
“Oh, thank you,” said Tiny. “I’ll never forget how kind you are.”
But the man was on his way down the street before she finished.
She felt much better after eating and stood for quite a while watching the little fountain play and splash.
Away in the distance she heard a dog bark, and at the edge of the village she saw a tiny newsboy and with him a tiny dog, no bigger than a capital letter. Under his arm he carried tiny newspapers no bigger than postage stamps.