his own mother stories of giants and fairies and princesses?

　　Has he forgotten them all?

　　Often when he gets late for his bath you have to go and call him an hundred times.

　　You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on writing and forgets.

　　Father always plays at making books.

　　If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,”What a naughty child!“

　　If I make the slightest noise, you say, Don't you see that father's at his work?”

　　What's the fun of always writing and writing?