"Yung lady:
"Willy seems to be onto his foot most of the time. These is all the butes Willy will half to Krissmus. Can you learn him settin' down?
Respeckfully,
"Mrs. Beer."
Sitting next to Willy, and rhyming with him, was Billy—Billy Prendergast—a large boy for his years with the face and voice of a man of thirty.
Billy Prendergast taught me a very good lesson in pedagogy when I was making believe teach him other things!
One of our simple morning songs ended with the verse:
"All ye little children, hear the truth we tell.
God will ne'er forget you, for he loves you well."
One day in the gentle lull that succeeded the singing of that song, Billy's growling baritone fell on my ear:
"Why will he never get yer?" he asked, his strange rough voice bringing complete silence, as it always did.
"What do you mean, Billy?"
"That's what it says: 'God will never get yer, for he loves you well."