The officer saw the point of the farmer’s position and promised him that he would take steps. Immediately he issued an order that thereafter men wishing to bathe or swim should repair to a point at the far side of the meadow. The next afternoon the farmer reappeared with a fresh protest. The lieutenant listened to him and then said rather impatiently: “Say, look here, my friend, it strikes me you’re somewhat fussy. The place where these men are now going into the creek is fully a quarter of a mile from your house if not farther.” “Yes, I know,” said the farmer, “but you see, Mister, both of my gals has got spyglasses.” § 128 Down to the Solid Portions It seems the mother was determined her six year old daughter should learn table manners and especially that she should eat what was put before her without question or complaint. On a morning at breakfast the lady sat behind the coffee urn reading her mail. Little Mildred was perched upon a high-chair at the other end of the table. In front of the latter the maid put down a cup holding a soft-boiled egg. “Please, mama,” said Mildred. “I don’t want an egg this morning. I had an egg yesterday morning.” “Never mind what you had yesterday morning,” said the mother without looking up from her reading. “Eggs are good for you. Now you open that egg and eat every bite of it.” Mildred sniffled but obeyed. Presently her voice was again uplifted in protest: “Mama, I don’t like this egg. I don’t think it’s a very nice egg.” “It is a nice egg,” contradicted the mother, still immersed in her correspondence. “Go right ahead.” Another pause ensued, punctuated only by muffled sobs and gulps from Mildred. Then: “Mama, I’ve eaten nearly all of it. Can’t I stop now?” “Mildred, I don’t want to have to speak to you again. I’ve told you what you had to do.” “But, Mama——” and now Mildred’s voice rose to a wail——“do I have to eat the bill and the legs, too?” § 129 An Anti-Expectoration Advocate The young couple had recently moved to New York from the South and were living in an attractive but somewhat small apartment on Riverside Drive. One afternoon quite unexpectedly callers were announced from downstairs. “Olga,” the mistress said, turning away from the telephone after telling the telephone operator to send the party up, “guests are coming. I know they’ll want to see Mabel. Please take her into the bathroom and slip a clean frock on her and tidy her up a bit and then send her back to the front room. Hurry now, they can only stay a little while.” So Mabel, the six-year-old daughter of the household, was gathered up by Olga and hurried out of sight. But Olga in her haste must have left the bathroom door ajar, for just as the visitors had been welcomed there came floating through the hall to them a protesting childish voice uttering the following ultimatum. “Olga, company or no company, I ain’t goin’ to have my face washed with spit!”