jlN THESE DAYS OF DIVORCES Really Nothing Remarkable in the Simple and Frank Explanation of the Small Boy. We were walking down the street , Sunday and we saw the most beauti-I beauti-I ful child sitting on the front steps j of a pretty house, says Ted Robinson. His eyes were so big and blue, his j curly head so golden, his innocent i smile so frank and inviting that we could not resist the temptation to en-i en-i ter into conversation with him. i "Well, son," we said in the idiotically idiotic-ally genial way with which an adult usually addresses a child, "how old are you?" "Four," lisped the infant. (He didn't really lisp it, because you can't lisp when you say four; but that's the way children are supposed to do.) "Isn't that fine!" (It would have been just as fine if he'd been three, though, or five. More idiocy.) "And whose little boy are you?" "Mamma's li'l boy." "Aren't you papa's little boy, too?" "Nope." "Why aren't you papa's little boy?" "The decree gimme to mamma." Then we went on our pleasant way. Savannah Morning News.