hard!"
His wife joined her directions to his. Then it was over here, and over
there, now in that corner, now in this, and now with his brush and soap,
and now with his dry rag, and hurry up all the time because it was
growing late. But the little boy, carried away by the interest of the
occasion, suddenly broke silence for the first time, crying out shrilly,
his mouth full of bread and butter, "Hey there! Get up, you old
lazee-bones!"

The others shouted with laughter. _There_ was a smart little boy for
you. Ah, he'd be a man before his mother. It was wonderful how that boy
saw everything that went on. He took an _interest_, that was it. You
ought to see, he watched everything, and sometimes he'd plump out with
things that were astonishing for a boy of his years. Only four and a
half, too, and they reminded each other of the first day he put on
knickerbockers; stood in front of the house on the sidewalk all day long
with his hands in his pockets. The interest was directed from Vandover,
they turned their backs, grouping themselves about the little boy. The
burnisher's sister-in-law felt called upon to tell about her little
girl, a matter of family pride. _She_ was going on twelve, and would you
suppose that little thing was in next to the last grade in the grammar
school? Her teacher had said that she was a real wonder; never had had
such a bright pupil. Ah, but one should see how she studied over her
books all the time. Next year they were to try to get her into the high
school. Of course she was not ready for the high school yet, and it was
against the rule to let children in that way, she was too young, but
they had a pull, you understand. Oh, yes, for sure they had a pull.
_They'd_ work her in all right. The burnisher's wife was not listening.
She wanted to draw the interest back to her own little boy. She bent
down and straightened out his little jacket, saying, "Does he like his
bread 'n butter? Well, he could have all he wanted!" But the little boy
paid no attention to her. He had made a _bon-mot_, ambition stirred in
him, he had tasted the delights of an appreciative audience. Bread and
butter had fallen in his esteem. He wished to repeat his former success,
and cried out shriller than ever:

"Hey, there! Get up, you old lazee-bones!"

But his father corrected him--his mother ought not to encourage him to
be rude. "That's not right, Oscar," he observed, shaking his head. "You
must be kind to the poor man."