“Be you Eddy Carroll's father?” asked the little voice.
Carroll looked down from his height at the small creature beside him. The little, upturned face looked very far down. The little cap was pushed back and the fair hair clung to the innocent forehead damply like a baby's.
“Yes, my little man,” said he, affably. “Who are you?”
“I go to school with him,” said the little boy.
“Oh!” said Carroll.
“Has he went?” further inquired the little boy, wistfully. He was a little scholar, but he had not learned as yet the practical application of English. It was “has gone” in the book and “has went” on the tongue.
“Yes; this morning,” replied Carroll.
“I was in his classes,” said the little voice.
“Why, you are younger than he is!” said Carroll.
“I guess I got my lessons better,” admitted the little voice, but with no conceit, rather with a measure of apology.