The active little boy in the children's room at the library yesterday mainly occupied himself in racing over to the shelves and bringing back books for Mabel Watson Payne to slide down the pretend book-return chute. At one point he disappeared briefly and then came back to present me with the piece of paper above, asking me to read what he had written on it.
"Hello!" I said.
"You can read it to the baby," he said.
I held it up to Mabel and said, "Hello!"
"You can keep it," he said.
"I will put it in my back pocket," I said, "where it won't get wrinkled."
"Good," he said. "And it won't fall out."