Do you know him, Uncle
Maje?"
"Better than any boy in the world! Haven't I been telling you about
him?"
"Once he brought a bag of candy to school, and I thought he was coming
up to hand it to me, but he turned red in the face and stuffed it right
into his pocket."
"He meant to give it to you, really--he bought it for you--but he
couldn't when the time came."
"Oh, did he tell you?"
"It wasn't necessary for him to tell me. I know that boy, I tell you,
through and through. Lucy, do you think you could encourage him a
little, now and then--be sociable with him--not enough to hurt, of
course? You don't know how he'd appreciate the least kindness. He might
remember it all his life."
"I might pat his hair--he has such nice hair--if he wouldn't know
it--but of course he would know it, and when he looks at you, he is so
queer--"
"Yes, I know; I suppose it is hopeless. Couldn't you even ask him to
write in your autograph album?"
"Y-e-s--I could, only he'd be sure to write something funny like 'In
Memory's wood-box let me be a stick.' He always does write something
witty, and I don't much care for ridiculous things in my album; I'm
being careful with it."
"Well, if he's as witty as _that_ in your album, it will be to mask a
bleeding heart.
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