Little Boy, extra solemn. “No, see is wite a little girl; see is on’y four year old.”
“And how old are you?”
Little Boy, with great dignity. “I am fi’ year old.”
Then he told me Mrs. Willis “wassed” his face, and he brought his sister to school.
“Where is your sister?” says the mistress, going by.
But four-years was not forthcoming.
“I s’pose see has walt home,” says the child, and goes on with his pudding.
This little pair are orphans out of the workhouse, Mrs. K—— told me. But somebody pays Mrs. Willis for their keep.
There was another funny little thing, very small, sitting between two bigger boys, to whom I said—
“Are you a little boy or a little girl?”