After knog at his aunt''s door and learning that she was indispod, he had taken a walk about the town, and then he had e in to his breakfast. He had now finished his breakfast; but he was drinking a small bsp;of coffee, whibsp;had been rved to him on a little table in the garden by one of the waiters who looked like an attache. At last he finished his coffee and lit a cigarette. Prently a small boy came walking along the path—an ur of nine or ten. The child, who was diminutive for his years, had an aged expression of tenanbsp;a pale plexion, and sharp little features. He was dresd in knickerbockers, with red stogs, whibsp;displayed his poor little spindle-shanks; he also wore a brilliant red cravat. He carried in his hand a long alpenstobsp;the sharp point of whibsp;he thrust into everything that he approached—the flowerbeds, the garden benches, the trains of the ladies'' dress. In front of Winterbourne he paud, looking at him with a pair ht, peing little eyes.
"Will you give me a lump of sugar?" he asked in a sharp, hard little voice—a voibsp;immature and yet, somehow, not young.
Winterbourne glanbsp;at the small table near him, on whibsp;his coffee rvibsp;rested, and saw that veral morls of sugar remained. "Yes, you may take one," he answered; "but I don''t think sugar is good for little boys."
This little boy stepped forward and carefully lected three of the coveted fragments, two of whibsp;he buried in the pocket of his knickerbockers, depositing the other as promptly in another plabsp;He poked his alpenstobsp;lance-fashion, into Winterbourne''s benbsp;and tried to crabsp;the lump of sugar with his teeth.
"Oh, blazes; it''s har-r-d!" he exclaimed, pronoung the adjective in a peculiar manner.
Winterbourne had immediately perceived that he might have the honor of claiming him as a fellow tryman. "Take care you don''t hurt your teeth," he said, paternally.