screamed and started back as he bumped his nose against the side; but Billy manfully bent down and grabbed the glove, not an inch from one of his big tusks, then marched around the tank and presented it to the lady with a chivalry of manner in one of his years quite surprising.
“That's a real nice boy—you said so, didn’t you, Lottie? And I wish he’d come and play with me,” said the little fellow by the young lady’s side, as Billy turned away, gracefully thanked, to come back to me with his cheeks roseate with blushes.
As he heard this, Billy sidled along the edge of the tank for a moment, then faced about and said:
“P’rhaps I will some day—where do you live?”
“I live on East Seventeenth Street with papa—and Lottie stays there too now—she’s my cousin: where d’you live?”
“Oh, I live close by—aright on that big green square where I guess the nurse takes you once in a while,” said Billy patronizingly. Then, looking up pluckily at the young lady, he added, “I never saw you out there.”
“No, Jimmy’s papa has only been in his new house a little while, and I’ve just come to visit him.”
“Say, will you come and play with me some time?” chimed in the inextinguishable Jimmy. I’ve got a cooking stove—for real fire—and blocks and a ball with a string.”
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