OCR Text |
Show lion Hie flor view II. "Ray,1 aald one small boy the other afternoon, "hna your mother begun V hurl th' Simla Cluui gag Into you yet ?" "Aw, aure," win the reply. "I bin glttln' that f'r a couple o' months now. Ev'ry time I make a break she points lo r finger at me mid tells me Hintn (Minis nln't n-gnln' t' bring mo nolhln' 'ft don't get iet f m'self." "What d ye do thui'" "Aw, what e'se would I do hut let Inr go on thlukln' that I b'llcve In Hatita Clans?" ' f 'That's rl'ht. all right," aald the other hoy. "Y" might Je' n well let em keep on tblnkln' you believe in th' old fake. It mnkes 'cut feel god, an you get more w'rn they think you b llevn In Hunty, too." "Hitre thing. An', say. It's a good game f write down on a piece o' paper pa-per what you want th" old dub t' chuck In your stockln', in' linn' th' list f your mother. She wants yon t' keep right on b'llevln' In Ills old whisker-lets, whisker-lets, an' she don'Uwaitt C dlnuppolnt you, nn' she's H'ble C put mos' o' th' thlni's you ask f'r In your sm kln'." "Oh, 1 nlwnya work that old one." snld the nther boy, nd then they went on playing shinny. And a man who had overheard the conversation alio led away with a feeling feel-ing that the world Ii growing a bit hoar anil and. Chicago Chronicle |