We got there at last: there was numbers Of boys and girls at their teas, And oh!—in the corner—the Bissop!— With two little girls on his knees. I knew they was much more pretty Than me; but I thought perhaps Their turn would be over bye and bye And he’ld take _me_ up on his laps! So I went quite close, till Susie Told me I mustn’t stare— But I don’t b’lieve it mattered, _He_ didn’t know I was there! Then the rest of the children got dancing, And I was knocked down on the floor, So I w’iggled my way to a corner, And sat just close to the door. For I thought _he_’ld pass and see me, And once he did really stand Quite close to me—_my_ Bissop!— And I touched his coat with my hand. But oh! he never noticed; He didn’t seem to see: And when he was kissing anyone They was other children than me. I fink I _must_ be ugly. It wasn’t the velveteen, ’Cause when she had it on last year Susie looked like a queen! Yes; I had some toys and a bootiful tea, And my cracker had got a ring! And I _fink_ I enjoyed the party ’Cept p’raps for only one fing! And when I got home to dolly, And she was in bed by my side, I _twied_ to tell her about it— But she was asleep—and I _cwied_. CHAPTER VIII WAYSIDE CHILDREN The study of some particular child is of great interest. If the child be one with whom one is brought into daily contact the study may become most exhaustive and may prove the means of imparting a new and helpful knowledge of childhood generally. [Sidenote: The Study of Flowers and Children.] A noted botanist has devoted years to the study of the chickweed. He has added to his own and to the general knowledge of botany a vast store of information by his temporarily exclusive attention to this one plant. But he would be the last to deny the charm of a stroll through lanes or fields where multitudes of flowers claim passing attention and admiration. To pause every few minutes to observe a cluster of primroses, a bank of mercury, or even a pink-tipped daisy—to halt suddenly as a whiff of sweet perfume tells us of a hidden nest of violets—to gather two or three of the cowslips that spangle the meadows—all this may belong to the lightest side of the study of botany. But it has a charm that few can resist, and thus far at least the veriest beginner can follow. So it is with the study of childhood. Almost everywhere we go on our daily road of life there are children to be found, children differing one from another as widely as the primrose from the violet, but each one worth our notice and possessed of a special charm. [Sidenote: The Loss to those who Fail to Notice Children.]