a face like an apple, and a thin, caressing voice like that of a cat trying to win the affection of its mistress!
As soon as they saw him boys were tempted to jump into the carriage and start away for the place unknown on the geographical maps,—the Country of Playthings.
The carriage was filled with boys between eight and ten years of age, packed like sardines in a box. They were so closely huddled together that they could hardly breathe. But no one said “Oh!” No one complained. The consolation of knowing that in a few hours they would arrive in a country where there were no books, or schools, or teachers made them happy and resigned, so that they did not feel hurt, or uncomfortable, or hungry, or thirsty.
As soon as the carriage stopped the fat driver turned to Lamp Wick and with a thousand airs and grimaces said to him, smiling, “Tell me, my pretty lad, do you wish to come with us to the most fortunate country?”
“Indeed I do.”
“But I warn you that there is no place inside. As you see, it is full.”
“Oh, well,” replied Lamp Wick, “if there is no place inside, I will sit on top of the carriage,” and he jumped up and sat beside the driver.
