Jacky reflected and sighed. "Well," he said, "I should think He'd laugh when he sees your shoes."
"Why! what's the matter with my shoes?" his discomfited father said, looking down at his feet. "My shoes are all right!" he defended himself.
"Big," Jacky said, shyly.
Maurice roared, crushed a geranium leaf in his hand, and asked his son what he was going to be when he grew up; "Theology seems to be your long suit, Jacobus. Better go into the Church."
Jacky shook his head. "I'm going to be a enginair. Or a robber."
"I'd try engineering if I were you. People don't like robbers."
"But I'll be a nice robber," Jacky explained, anxiously.
"I'll bring you a train of cars some day," Maurice said.
"Say, 'Thank you,' Jacky," Lily instructed him.
Again Jacky shook his head. "He 'ain't gimme the cars yet."