The Prodigal Imp
And his mother—was she thinking of her little boy?—but again came that strange noise, and the Imp sat very straight and turned his attention to the men around him. They were reading papers. Men always did that, it seemed. A paper-boy came through the train, and the Imp touched his arm softly. The boy turned.
"I'll take a paper, if you please," said the Imp.
"What d'ye want?" said the boy.
"Just a paper, thank you," said the Imp, blushing, because he felt that people were looking at him.
"But what paper?" persisted the boy, half laughing, half puzzled.
"Oh, any one you like," said the Imp, politely.
The boy pulled out one, and said "Three cents, mister!" in a businesslike way that delighted the Imp beyond measure. He gave the boy a dime and a nickel, in a large, easy way, and concealed his surprise at the handful of pennies handed back to him.
Then he glanced around, and coughing importantly, after the fashion of his Uncle Stanley when he read anything aloud from a magazine, opened the paper. He had not read very much
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