ARVIE ASPINALL'S ALARM CLOCK
In one of these years a paragraph appeared in a daily paper to the effect that a constable had discovered a little boy asleep on the steps of Grinder Bros.' factory at four o'clock one rainy morning. He awakened him, and demanded an explanation.
The little fellow explained that he worked there, and was frightened of being late; he started work at six, and was apparently greatly astonished to hear that it was only four. The constable examined a small parcel which the frightened child had in his hand. It contained a clean apron and three slices of bread and treacle.
The child further explained that he woke up and thought it was late, and didn't like to wake mother and ask her the time 'because she'd been washin'.' He didn't look at the clock, because they 'didn't have one.' He volunteered no explanation as to how he expected mother to know the time, but, perhaps, like many other mites of his kind, he had unbounded faith in the infinitude of a mother's wisdom. His name was Arvie Aspinall, please, sir, and he lived in Jones's Alley. Father was dead.
A few days later the same paper took great pleasure
