"Ain't you 'fraid when it thunders?"
"No," with laughter. "Oh, you silly, silly child!"
"Papa," said Evelyn, solemnly, "ain't you 'fraid of nothing in the
world but mama?"
Afraid to breathe, almost, the returned reveller crept quietly into
his bedchamber as the gray dawn was breaking. Sitting on the edge of
the bed, he cautiously undid his boots. But, with all his care, his
wife stirred in bed, and he presently was all too well aware of a pair
of sleepy eyes regarding him over the edge of the sheet.
"Why, Tom," yawned the little woman, "how early you are this morning!"
"Yes, my dear," replied Tom, stifling a groan, "I've got to go to
Montreal for the firm today."
And replacing his footgear the wretched man dragged his aching limbs
out again into the cold and heartless streets.
A philanthropic New York woman was entertaining, in the spacious
grounds of her suburban residence, a large number of East-Side
children. On her rounds of hospitality she was impressed with one
strikingly beautiful little girl. She could not have been more than
nine years old, but her coal-black eyes flashed with intelligence. The
hostess introduced herself and began a conversation.
"Does what you see here today please you?" she asked.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235