"Ma," said the boy, "that man's like a baby, ain't he?" pointing to a bald-
headed man sitting just in front of them.
"Hush!"
"Why must I hush?"
After a few moments' silence: "Ma, what's the matter with that man's head?
"Hush, I tell you. He's bald."
"What's bald?"
"His head hasn't got any hair on it."
"Did it come off?"
"I guess so."
"Will mine come off?"
"Some time, may be."
"Then I'll be bald, won't I?"
"Yes."
"Will you care?"
"Don't ask so many questions."
After another silence, the boy exclaimed: "Ma, look at that fly on that
man's head."
"If you don't hush, I'll whip you when we get home."
"Look! There's another fly. Look at 'em fight; look at 'em!"
"Madam," said the man, putting aside a newspaper and looking around,
"what's the matter with that young hyena?"
The woman blushed, stammered out something, and attempted to smooth back
the boy's hair.
"One fly, two flies, three flies," said the boy, innocently, following with
his eyes a basket of oranges carried by a newsboy.
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