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Rh thought, this tiny miss ran up onto Gadsby’s porch and stood in front of Old Bill, looking up at him, but saying not a word.

“Huh!” Bill just had to snort. “Looking at anything?”

“No, sir.”

“What!! Oh, that is, you think ‘not much,’ probably. What do you want, anyway?”

“I want to play.”

“All right; run along and play.”

“No; I want to play with you.”

“Pooh!! That’s silly. I’m an old man. An old man can’t play.”

“Can, too. My Grandpa can.”

“But I’m not your Grandpa, thank my lucky stars. Run along now; I’m thinking.”

“So am I.”

“You? Huh! A kid can’t think.”

“Ooo-o! I can!”

“About what?”

“About playing with you.”

Now Simpkins saw that this was a condition which wouldn’t pass with scowling or growling, but didn’t know what to do about it. Play with a kid? What? Councilman Simpkins pl

But into that shut-up mind, through a partially,—only partially,—rising window, was