Every day the little auburn-haired boy king in the House Next Door trots out with his tiny red wagon and laboriously drags that treasure of childhood up and down the pavement--sometimes prancing like a race horse, sometimes plodding along like a mule that curses his ancestry, sometimes ambling by like a good-natured family horse, guaranteed not to run away or scare at an automobile! And the little one--the baby in the go-cart. What a time the baby has watching Big Brother, and admiring his strength as he performs miracles, not only pulling and backing the tiny red wagon all by himself, but actually turning it around and running the other way, without so much as getting caught in the cracks or stuck in the sod! You can see admiration fairly oozing from baby's eyes; and when he runs at her and pretends to kick his heels into the dashboard, what a laugh she has! Up the street, where the apartments are with the shiny sets of bells on the front by the door, and the big rocking chairs and air of solid comfort, there are some other children, but I haven't learned their names. They play around the porch and front yard, and run across the street, scampering up the hill to pick flowers from the lots that soon will feel the plow; and their mothers keep an eye on them--not that any accident could happen, for vehicles are scarce out our way and the street car doesn't enter the quiet of our lives; but just because--well, mothers are a bit peculiar that way--I mean that way of keeping an eye on the young ones. A fellow never knows what a remarkable head a child has, if he has none of his own, until he begins borrowing babies from the neighbors. There's Catherine, for instance. Catherine and Eleanor and I were looking for the little pale anemones that hide around the roots of trees. I picked some four-petaled blue flowers and instructed the children. "These," I said, "are forget-me-nots." "No, they're not," said Catherine promptly. "They are bluettes. Forget-me-nots have five petals and these have only four." "Oh!" I said; "and where did you learn that?" "My teacher told me, and she told me----" which ran into a long lecture on botany and horticulture and forest-lore and things that made me ashamed, for, frankly, I didn't know whether the tree that shaded us was an oak or a maple. I think there should be a limit on male suffrage, and woman domination, and child education. There are some things that make the average man feel cheap, if he has pride.