Child is the young gentleman fresh from College and the elderly
maiden lady, who, between them, produce most of the literature that
explains to us the Child.

The parent does not even know how to dress the Child. The parent
will persist in dressing the Child in a long and trailing garment
that prevents the Child from kicking. The young gentleman fresh from
College grows almost poetical in his contempt. It appears that the
one thing essential for the health of a young child is that it should
have perfect freedom to kick. Later on the parent dresses the Child
in short clothes, and leaves bits of its leg bare. The elderly
maiden Understander of Children, quoting medical opinion, denounces
us as criminals for leaving any portion of that precious leg
uncovered. It appears that the partially uncovered leg of childhood
is responsible for most of the disease that flesh is heir to.

Then we put it into boots. We "crush its delicately fashioned feet
into hideous leather instruments of torture." That is the sort of
phrase that is hurled at us! The picture conjured up is that of some
fiend in human shape, calling itself a father, seizing some helpless
cherub by the hair, and, while drowning its pathetic wails for mercy
beneath roars of demon laughter, proceeding to bind about its tender
bones some ancient curiosity dug from the dungeons of the
Inquisition.

If the young gentleman fresh from College or the maiden lady
Understander could be, if only for a month or two, a father! If only
he or she could guess how gladly the father of limited income would
reply,