Bikey the Skicycle and Other Tales of Jimmieboy

f rushing up from the kitchen to where the 'phone stood in the back hall whenever she heard its sounding bells, because a great many of her friends wer

t going to ask the person at the other end what on earth he was making all that noise about. So it was altogether queer that after sounding six times the bell should fail to summon any one to see what was wanted. Finally it rang loud and stron

lay an instant in rushing out into the back hall and climbing upon a chair tha

as he got his little

e thought he had heard befo

returned Jimmieb

llo Hithere Whoareyou, but my real name is Impy. I am the Imp of the Teleph

dn't know anybody ever lived in that funny little closet,

s with eyelashes of pink, long and fine as silk. My eyebrows are sort of green like the lawn gets after a sun shower in the late spring. My hair, which is hardly thicker tha

ce of my ever seeing

nce in all the world. Do you remember the little k

ies on the end of his watch ch

ill open the door you can see me, and if you will eat a small apple I give you when we do meet, you will smallen up unt

e asked papa to let me have it several t

let me have things I wanted. I'd just ask him the same old question over and over again in thirteen different ways, and if I did

immieboy, "but I really don't see how I coul

re the first little boy I have had anything to do with who couldn't ask for a thing, no

ways," sugges

e and say, 'There are two ends to your watch chain, aren't there, papa?' He'll say, 'Yes; everything has two ends except circles, which haven't any;' then you laugh, because he may think that's funny, and then you say, 'You have a watch at one end, haven't you?' His answer will be, 'Yes; it has been there fifteen years, and although it has been going all that time it hasn't gone yet.' You must roar with laughter at that, and then ask him what he has at the other end, and he'll say, 'The key to my cigar box,' to which you must immediately

think that

thing; but

for it appe

a creamy

rite poetry,"

f it. I wrote a poem to my papa once which pleased him very much, tho

men in it his papa seemed to him to be the very finest, and it was his great wish to grow up to be as like him as possible; and surely if any little boy could, as the Imp ha

y head. Just glue your ear as tightly as you can to

d you, papa,

know you p

my chum-at w

me how to ro

me how to sin

t me how to

rights; you've

me love the

ou've punish

ave wept mo

hould be the

wished were

e thought that

I could no

ld make my p

gs and by

all comes

though ind

r days they

at heart by

hat wrinkled

your little s

ect upon

s softened

dear father,

t was but i

e love that

boy, was e'

e Imp s

aid Jimmie

y more, because I kind of got running over. I didn't seem to fit myself exactly.

een very much pleased,

e me a great big hug for the poem, and I was glad I'd written it. But you must run along and get that ke

t would be better for me to ask the question that way first, and

think very likely it would be better to do it th

ved me as

you and y

sked me I'

have that

, repeating the verse over and over again so

of which his papa was sitting writing; he kissed him

inished. "Here it is," taking the key from the

IM STOOD

down from his papa's lap, he ran headlong into the back hall to where the telephone stood, inserted the key in