we don't talk much at first, but look at one another; i down at his curly hair and little blue bow, he up sideways at me as he trots.and some-how i fancy the shy, round eyes do not altogether approve of me, and he heaves a little sigh, as though he were disappointed.but after awhile his bashfulness wears off and he begins to chat.he tells me his favorite fairy- tales, he can do up to six times, and he has a guinea-pig, and pa says fairy- tales ain't true; and isn't it a pity? 'cos he would so like to be a knight and fight a dragon and marry a beautiful princess.but he takes a more practical view of life when he reaches seven, and would prefer to grow upbe a bargee, and earn a lot of money.maybe this is the consequence of falling in love, which he does about this time with the young lady at the milk shop aet.six.(god bless her little ever-dancing feet, whatever size they may be now!) he must be very fond of her, for he gives her one day his chiefest treasure, to wit, a huge pocket-knife with four rusty blades and a corkscrew, which latter has a knack of working itself out in some mysterious manner and sticking into its owner's leg.she is an affectionate little thing, and she throws her arms round his neck and kisses him for it, then and there, outside the shop.but the stupid world (in the person of the boy at the cigar emporium next door) jeers at such tokens of love.whereupon my young friend very properly prepares to punch the head of the boy at the cigar emporium next door; but fails in the attempt, the boy at the cigar emporium next door punching his instead.
and then comes school life, with its bitter little sorrows and its joyous shoutings, its jolly larks, and its hot tears falling on beastly latin grammars and silly old copy-books.it is at school that he injures himself for life--as i firmly believe--trying to pronounce german; and it is there, too, that he learns of the importance attached by the french nation to pens, ink, and paper."have you pens, ink, and paper?" is the first question asked by one frenchman of another on their meeting.the other fellow has not any of them, as a rule, but says that the uncle of his brother has got them all three.the first fellow doesn't appear to care a hang about the uncle of the other fellow's brother; what he wants to know now is, has the neighbor of the other fellow's mother got 'em? "the neighbor of my mother has no pens, no ink, and no paper," replies the other man, beginning to get wild."has the child of thy female gardener some pens, some ink, or some paper?" he has him there.after worrying enough about these wretched inks, pens, and paper to make everybody miserable, it turns out that the child of his own female gardener hasn't any.such a discovery would shut up any one but a french exercise man.it has no effect at all, though, on this shameless creature.he never thinks of apologizing, but says his aunt has some mustard.