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“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?” “Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she hated that word “kid.” “Surely Billy has earned it, Mrs. Bennett,” Mr. Smith urged..
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Conrad
How the missionary box would jingle! How the heathen would sing for joy! While on the Wopp table carrot pudding could become a diurnal felicity! They came upon him a second later, insensible, his head bleeding from a scalp wound. Hurriedly the Sheriff lifted him close to the brook, dashed water over his face, washed out the cut a little, and bound it with his handkerchief, not untenderly if in haste; for Billy had won something more than his approval. “Worse! She said soon I’d have to be very brave—that ain’t bad—but I’m goin’ to be—to be a minister—a preacher!” The last word came with a woe-begone vehemence that made his mother laugh. “Well, why don’t you go along, Mrs. Lancaster? Don’t prize babies have attendants?”.
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