Brother Baker--a tiptoeing Nemesis

Dressed-up children were flitting along the side streets, hurrying
their seniors

The Balloon-Vender wormed his way through the buzzing crowd, leaving
his wares in a red and blue trail behind him

The Blue Sash about the country girl's waist and the flag in her
Beau's hat

"One's a trick elephant. You'd die a-laughing if you saw him"

"It's an awful good one. Can't he go just this once?"

8 Funny Clowns--count them 8

"Well, son, you're a daisy. They generally drop the first kick"

The other wranglers ... dropped out for heavy repairs

When Mr. Pennington's eyes fell on Bud, he leaned on a show-case and
laughed till he shook all over

"Miss Morgan, I just want you to look at my boy"

"Now, Henry, don't ever have anything to do with that kind of trash
again"

"Here's a dollar I got for ridin' the trick mule ... I thought it
would be nice for the missionary society"

"Gee, we're going to have pie, ain't we"

PROLOGUE

We who are passing "through the wilderness of this world" find it
difficult to realize what an impenetrable wall there is around
the town of Boyville. Storm it as we may with the simulation of
light-heartedness, bombard it with our heavy guns, loaded with
fishing-hooks and golf-sticks, and skates and base-balls, and
butterfly-nets, the walls remain. If once the clanging gates of the
town shut upon a youth, he is banished forever. From afar he may peer
over the walls at the games inside, but he may not be of them. Let him
try to join them, and lo, the games become a mockery, and he finds
that he is cavorting still outside the walls, while the good citizens
inside are making sly sport of him. Who, being recently banished from
Boyville, has not sought to return? In vain does he haunt the swimming
hole; the water elves will have none of him. He hushes their laughter,
muffles their calls, takes the essence from their fun, and leaves it
dust upon their lips.

But we of the race of grown-ups are a purblind people. Otherwise,
when we acknowledge what a stronghold this Boyville is, we the
banished would not seek to steal away the merry townsmen, and bruise
our hearts and theirs at our hopeless task. We have learned many
things in our schools, and of the making of books there has been no
end; so it is odd that we have not learned to let a boy be a boy. Why
not let him feel the thrill from the fresh spring grass under his
feet, as his father felt it be