The Story of Patsy

It was a hard-working and bustling place, but a loving and joyous one -- that kindergarten by Silver Street where I was working. I grew to knew all my eighty charges, for their fusses, their foibles, their tantrums and their trilling laughter. Then one day I was surprised to have someone knocking -- for admittance. A boy! -Kin yer take me in, Miss Kate?- said he. -My name's Patsy. I bin waitin' this yer long whiles fur to git in.- -Why, my dear little boy, - I said, gazing dubiously at him, -you're too -- big, aren't you? We have only tiny people here, you know, children not six years old.- -Well, I'm nine by the book, but I ain't more 'n scerce six along o' my losing them three year.- -What do you mean, child? How could you lose three years?- -I lost 'em on the back stairs, don't yer know. My father he got fightin' mad when he was drunk, and pitched me down two flights of 'em, and my back was most clean broke in two, so I couldn't git out o' bed forever -- till just now! Kin yer take me in, Miss Kate?