THAT INTERESTIN' BOY.
He sat upon the window-sill and jingled ninety cents.
There came along another boy, who said, “How are you,
Pence? You're goin' out a-Christmassin', I guess, among
the Dutch, to buy some gifts.” The other spoke: “No
—not exactly much I am in luck, this year, I am. I
haven't any bills. My sister's sick, and can't expect no
presents but her pills. My brother Ben 's in Canada,
away upon the wing. Of course, you know he can't
suppose I'll buy him anything. My mother pulled my
hair, last night, until she made me squall. Of course she
knows that she 's gone up for anything at all.” “But
there 's your father,” said his friend. “Well,—yes—I
really thought that I was stuck on the old man, and that
he had me caught, and I was kinder looking round to
hunt him up a pipe; but then, this very mornin' he hit
me such a wipe! That fixed his Christmas goose for
him, and took away his joy. Now all this money 's goin'
to a good and clever boy, to buy him lots of pea-nuts and
candy, I'll engage—with caramels; and that good boy is
just my size and age.”
