"Yes, daddy," the youngster would begin excitedly, and climbing on to
the arm of his father's chair, he would beat his little heels together
in his eagerness to get the story out in speech, and proceed to explain
how he had built a "pretend" track in the yard with curves and grades,
over which his little express cart ran "bully." "And 'round the curves
we just signal to the other train and have whistles with real meanings
to them, like a really big train."
"Oho! getting up the signal system, are you, now?" his father would
grin. "Why, you'll be big enough and wise enough soon to come on Number
27 and wipe the engine or 'fire' for daddy. Won't that be nice?" Then
the big man would set the chubby child of six years down on the floor
to play, as he winked knowingly at Benny's mother, who nodded a smiling
reply.
But it did not take many years to make Benny a pretty big boy, and
one of the boy-kind who always start schemes and devices among their
schoolfellows. He seemed to be a born leader, with a crowd of other boys
always at his heels ready to follow where he ventured, or to mimic what
he did.
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