Everychild

wall, and the woodwork was of ivory, with gilt lines. There were pictures of ships on the ocean and of high trees and of the sun

There was a nice reading table with books on it, and a lamp. The lamp had a shade made up of queerly-shaped bits of material like onyx, and a fringe of rose-colored be

ook at each other. The lady turned the pages of a magazine without seeing a single thing. The gentleman sat staring straight before him, an

s own language: "I am not merely a chair. Look at me! I was a limb on a mighty oak. I was a child of the sun and the rai

hing but themselves and they continued to do this ev

ch about him as I can. But really, there is very little I can tell. His mother often said that he was a peculiar child. It was a

hing which he could not manage very well. But no one offered to help

igh to keep it free of the ground. The tail had got caug

the strokes. Seven. The last stroke died away with a quiveri

and it had always puzzled him. Sometimes it would come while you watched, and you couldn't think what made it c

verychild approached his father timidly. It was rath

it for me?" He brought the torn kit

id not look

go on speaking to a person who would not even l

did not look at Everychild. He said ra

d up from her magazine. "You've left

rned to the door. It was a stubborn door. He pu

his mother. The noise ha

when you close it

f you didn't open i

nd stood besi

aid. He reflected and brightened a little. "An

Their manner was quite unpleasant. They talked without waiting for each other to get through,

went out. He put his hat on, pulling it down over his eyes. And he banged the door.

went to her own room-which mean

t slowly. You would have supposed that he did not care greatly, now, whether the kite got mended or not. But

e inner door opened and

Everychild's mother's face, but not so pretty. Her eyes

but asked another question: "Is something wrong with your kite?" And aga

rug on her knees and too

been before. There were little moist lines about them, and they were faded. Her hands were not at all like his mother's hands. Not nea

bout the kite. Certain amazing t

urned the lights on. And there was a sound of music-a short bit of a march, which ended all of a s