"Well, my little man, did you want to see me?"
"Are you a lawyer?"
"Yes. What do you want?"
"I want"—and there was a resolute ring in his voice—"I want a divorce from my papa and mamma."
"Well," mused six-year-old Harry, as he was being buttoned into a clean white suit, "this has been an exciting week, hasn't it, mother? Monday we went to the Zoo, Wednesday I lost a tooth, Thursday was Lily's birthday party, Friday I was sick, yesterday I had my hair cut, and now here I am rushing off to Sunday-school."
A little saying from a seven-year-old girl.
NEIGHBOR—"How is your mother this morning?"
LITTLE GIRL—"My mother is at the hospital."