real boy must have a knife with things in it: a corkscrew,-- I
wonder why a corkscrew? -- a buttonhook, a thing to take stones
out of horses' hoofs, a thing to mend traces with -- I know I am
ignorant of the technical terms -- but the hardest-hearted shop-
assistant will never fail to help a professional aunt in the
choice of a knife, unless by chance he should be unhappy enough
never to have been a boy, and such cases are rare.

I used often to wonder why boys wanted all these things. Now I
know, bemuse I asked Dick and he said, You see, Aunt Woggles, I
use them for other things." I am not sure that most of us don't
do the same thing with many of our most cherished possessions in
life.

As regards steam-engines Zerlina lays down a distinct law. They
must never burst-that is an injury no sister-in-law would ever
forgive - and paint must never come off. If Zerlina had known and
loved the taste of crimson lake in the days of her youth, she
would never draw so hard and fast a line.

From the earliest moment in a baby's career, the professional aunt
takes upon herself serious responsibilities. She may not, for
instance, like any ordinary aunt, pass the baby in his
perambulator, out walking. Any other aunt may, with perfect
propriety, say, "Hullo, duckie, where's auntie?" and pass on. She
knows the danger of stopping, and seeks to avoid it. Not so the
professional aunt. She realizes the danger and faces it. She
knows she will have to wait, for the sake of the child's
character, until he shall choose to say, "Ta-ta."