James Otis, Toby Tyler; Or, Ten Weeks with a Circus
“ Treat, as Toby now learned his name was—did not know; “Tyler is my name—Toby Tyler.” “Why, what a little chap you are!” said Mrs. Treat, paying no attention to the awkward little bend of the head which Toby intended for a bow. “How small he is, Samuel!” “Yes,” said the skeleton, reflectively, as he looked Toby over from head to foot, as if he were mentally trying to calculate exactly how many inches high he was, “he is small; but he's got all the world before him to grow in, an' if he only eats enough—There, that reminds me. ”
