me as we walk all he thinks and feels. I laugh at him now and then, but the next moment I wish I had not, for he looks so grave, I am ashamed of being frivolous. Besides, it is not showing proper respect to one so much older than myself—to one who was myself so very long before I became myself.
We don't talk much at first, but look at one another: I down at his curly hair and little blue bow, he up sideways at me as he trots. And, somehow, I fancy the shy, round eyes do not altogether approve of me, and he heaves a little sigh, as though he were disappointed. But, after a while, his bashfulness wears off, and he begins to chat. He tells me his favourite fairy tales, he can do up to six times, and he has a guinea-pig, and pa says fairy tales aint true; and isn't it a pity, 'cos he would so like to be a knight and fight a dragon and marry a beautiful princess. But he takes a more practical view of life when he reaches seven, and would prefer to grow up, be a bargee, and earn a lot of money. Maybe, this is the consequence of falling in love, which he does about this time, with the young lady at the milk-shop æt. six. (God bless her little everdancing feet, whatever size they may be now!) He must be very fond of her, for he gives her one day his chiefest treasure, to wit, a huge pocket-knife with four rusty blades and a corkscrew, which latter has a knack of working itself out in some mysterious manner, and sticking into its owner's leg. She is an affectionate.
