With his palms sweaty and his heart racing, Bernard peered into New York City's largest toy store, F.A.O Schwartz. He was turning eight years old and his father had given him $1 to go and pick out something for his birthday.
"However shall I decide?" Bernard lamented. Perhaps a new spinning top is the ticket. I've heard there's a German humming one made of iron that has harmonica reeds in it. That would no doubt impress the other boys."
"I would dearly love several more dragoons to add to my tin soldier collection, however they would surely be commandeered by father and his friend H. G. Wells."
"A hobby horse is what I really long for. Not the stationary kind I had as an infant in the nursery."
"But rather the Draisienne which is actually steerable and can reach speeds of 15 kilometers per hour! But alas, my dollar wouldn't even pay for its rubber tires."
"I definitely don't want
quoits; that's a game for old folks and sissies. "
Jumping up and down with abandon, Bernard shouted with glee, "By Jove, I'll procure a hoop. They are all the rage in London, so much so that the papers are proclaiming "The Hoop Nuisance" is to blame for injuring pedestrians' shins.
Bernard's mother was quite worried when her son came home with his purchase. She warned him to only play with it in cool weather, lest he overheat and become ill. However, Bernard dearly loved his hoop and trundled it everywhere he went.
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