Good Books

"When I get a good job, I'll stay in nights and study
hard like you want me to--I sure will."
"Yes, dear, and you'll soon be heaps cleverer than I am," said she,
stooping to kiss his curly head as she tied the apron about her shapely
hips; and then, giving him a smiling nod, she vanished into the kitchen,
while Spike laboured through the long columns headed "Help Wanted." And
presently, as she moved light-footed to and fro in the kitchen, he heard
her singing softly to herself, an old, old song of other days that had
often been his lullaby when he was a small, motherless armful of
sleepiness hushed in her young, protecting clasp.
"Arthur!" she called.
"Hello!" he answered.
"Are you hungry?"
"You bet I am!"
A long pause, whereafter ensued the following conversation between
kitchen and parlour:
Hermione. "Boy dear!"
Spike. "Hello!"
Hermione. "Be a dear and lay the cloth for me!"
Spike. "Right-o!"
A longer pause, during which Spike rises and takes cloth from sideboard
drawer.
Hermione. "Arthur!"
Spike.


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