Sud-
denly, however, he discovered her feet on the dry-
goods box, about on a level with his head. They
were clad in black stockings and low shoes; they
moved about oddly; they fascinated him. With a
yelp of interest he grabbed for them and began
pinching them to see what they were. His howls
ceased; he was happy.
Miss Anthony was not. But it was a great relief
to have the child quiet, so she bore the infliction of
the pinching as long as she could. When endurance
had found its limit she slipped back out of reach,
and as his new plaything receded the boy uttered
shrieks of disapproval. There was only one way to
stop his noise; Miss Anthony brought her feet for-
ward again, and he resumed the pinching of her
ankles, while his yelps subsided to contented mur-
murs. The performance was repeated half a dozen
times. Each time the ankles retreated the baby
yelled. Finally, for once at the end of her patience,
``Aunt Susan'' leaned forward and addressed the
mother, whose facial expression throughout had
shown a complete mental detachment from the situa-
tion.
``I think your little boy is hot and thirsty,'' she
said, gently. ``If you would take him out of the
crowd and give him a drink of water and unfasten
his clothes, I am sure he would be more comfortable.''
Before she had finished speaking the woman had
sprung to her feet and was facing her with fierce
indignation.
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