LULU'S LIBRARY, VOLUME I

I.

A CHRISTMAS DREAM, AND HOW IT CAME TRUE.

"I'm so tired of Christmas! I wish there would never be another one!" exclaimed a frustrated little girl as she sat idly watching her mother arrange a pile of gifts two days before they were set to be given.

"Why, Effie, that's such an awful thing to say! You're just as bad as old Scrooge; and I'm worried something will happen to you, just like it did to him, if you don't appreciate Christmas," replied Mom, almost dropping the silver horn she was filling with tasty candies.

"Who was Scrooge? What happened to him?" asked Effie, showing a hint of curiosity on her otherwise bored face as she grabbed the sourest lemon-drop she could find; nothing sweet appealed to her at that moment.

"He was one of Dickens's best characters, and you can read the delightful story someday. He hated Christmas until a strange dream revealed to him how precious and beautiful it was, transforming him into a better man."

"I'll read it; I enjoy dreams, and I have a lot of interesting ones myself. But they don't stop me from getting tired of Christmas," said Effie, sifting through the sweets unhappily for something worth eating.

"Why are you tired of what should be the happiest time of the year?" asked Mom, anxiously.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel this way if there was something new. But it's always the same, and there's no surprise anymore. I always find tons of treats in my stocking. I don't like some of them, and I quickly get tired of the ones I do like. We always have a big dinner, and I overeat, then feel sick the next day. Then there's a Christmas tree somewhere, with a doll on top or a silly old Santa Claus, and kids are dancing and screaming over candy and toys that break, along with shiny things that aren't useful. Honestly, Mom, I've had so many Christmases that are all the same that I don't think I can stand another one." And Effie flopped down on the sofa, as if just the thought was too much for her.

Her mother laughed at her sadness, but felt bad to see her little girl so unhappy, when she had everything to make her happy, and had only experienced ten Christmases.

"Suppose we don’t give you any gifts at all—how would that work for you?" asked mom, eager to please her spoiled child.

"I want one big and beautiful one, and one cute little one, to remember a really nice person by," said Effie, who was a whimsical little girl full of quirky ideas and dreams that her friends loved to indulge, no matter the time, effort, or money involved; because she was the youngest of three little girls and very precious to the whole family.

"Well, darling, I'll see what I can do to make you happy, and I won’t say a word until everything is ready. If only I could come up with a new idea to kick things off!" And Mom continued tying up her lovely bundles with a thoughtful expression, while Effie wandered to the window to watch the rain that kept her inside and made her feel gloomy.

"Looks to me like poor kids have more fun than rich ones. I can't go outside, and there's a girl around my age splashing around without any maid worrying about rain boots and coats and umbrellas and getting sick. I wish I were a homeless girl."

"Would you want to be hungry, cold, and dirty, begging all day and sleeping on a pile of ashes at night?" asked mom, curious about what would happen next.

"Cinderella did, and ended up having a great time. This girl here has a basket of scraps on her arm, wearing a big old shawl, and she doesn't seem to mind at all, even though water is pouring out of her boots. She splashes through the puddles, laughing at the rain, and munching on a cold potato like it's better than the chicken and ice cream I had for dinner. Yep, I really believe that poor kids are happier than rich ones."

"So do I, sometimes. At the Orphan Asylum today, I saw two dozen cheerful little kids who have no parents, no home, and no hope for Christmas beyond a stick of candy or a cake. I wish you could have been there to see how happy they were, playing with the old toys that some wealthier children had sent them."

"You can have all of mine; I’m so sick of them I never want to see them again," said Effie, turning from the window to the cute dollhouse filled with everything a child's heart could want.

"I will, and let you start over with something you won’t get bored of if I can just find it." And mom furrowed her brows, trying to come up with some amazing surprise for this child who didn’t care about Christmas.

Nothing more was said then; and wandering off to the library, Effie found "A Christmas Carol," and curled up in the corner of the sofa, reading it all before tea. Some of it she didn’t understand, but she laughed and cried over many parts of the delightful story, feeling better without knowing why.

All evening, she thought about poor Tiny Tim, Mrs. Cratchit with the pudding, and the heavyset old man who danced so happily that "his legs sparkled in the air." Soon it was time for bed.

"Come on, and rest your feet," said Effie's nurse, "while I fix your nice hair and tell you stories."

"I'll have a fairy tale tonight, a really interesting one," insisted Effie, as she slipped into her blue silk robe and cozy fur-lined slippers to sit by the fire and get her long curls brushed.

So Nursey shared her best stories, and when the child finally lay down beneath her lace curtains, her mind was filled with a strange mix of Christmas elves, poor kids, snowstorms, candy, and surprises. So it's no surprise that she dreamed all night, and this was the dream that she never quite forgot.

She was sitting on a stone in the middle of a large field, all by herself. The snow was falling quickly, a chilling wind was blowing, and night was approaching. She felt hungry, cold, and tired, and had no idea where to go or what to do.

"I wanted to be a homeless girl, and now I am one; but I don't like it, and I wish someone would come and take care of me. I don’t know who I am, and I think I must be lost," thought Effie, with the strange interest one feels in oneself in dreams.

But the more she thought about it, the more confused she became. The snow fell faster, the wind blew colder, and the night grew darker; poor Effie decided that she was completely forgotten and left to freeze alone. Tears froze on her cheeks, her feet felt like ice, and her heart sank within her, so hungry, scared, and abandoned she was. Resting her head on her knees, she accepted that she was lost, sitting there as the large flakes quickly turned her into a little white mound, when suddenly she heard the sound of music. Startled, she looked and listened with all her eyes and ears.

Far away, a faint light glimmered, and a voice was heard singing. She attempted to run toward the inviting glow but couldn’t move, standing like a small statue of hope as the light approached, and the lovely words of the song became clearer.

From our joyful home

Through the world we explore

One week every year,

Turning winter into spring

With the happiness we bring,

Because Christmas time is here.

 

Now the eastern star

Shines from afar

To illuminate the poorest home;

Hearts grow warmer,

Gifts flow freely,

Because Christmas time has come.

 

Now cheerful trees rise

Before young eyes,

Bursting with joyful cheer;

Happy voices sing,

And joyful bells ring,

Because Christmas time is here.

 

Oh, joyful chime,

Oh, blessed time,

That brings us all so close!

"Welcome, dear day,"

All creatures say,

Because Christmas time is here.

 

A child's voice sang, a child's hand held the little candle; and in the circle of soft light it cast, Effie saw a lovely child approaching her through the night and snow. A rosy, smiling figure, wrapped in white fur, with a wreath of green and red holly adorning its shining hair, the magic candle in one hand, and the other extended as if to shower gifts and warmly grip all other hands.

Effie forgot to talk as this bright figure approached, leaving no footprints in the snow, just lighting the path with its little candle and filling the air with the sound of its song.

"Hey kid, you're lost, and I’m here to help you," said the stranger, taking Effie's cold hands in his, with a smile like sunshine, while every holly berry glowed like a little fire.

"Do you know me?" Effie asked, feeling no fear, just a great happiness at his arrival.

"I know all the kids, and I go to find them because this is my holiday. I bring them together from all over the world to have fun with me once a year."

"Are you an angel?" Effie asked, searching for the wings.

"No; I’m a Christmas spirit, and I live with my friends in a nice place, getting ready for our holiday when we’re set free to wander around the world, helping to make this a joyful time for everyone who welcomes us. Will you come and see how we do our work?"

"I'll go anywhere with you. Please don’t leave me again," Effie cried happily.

"First, I'll make you comfortable. That's what we love to do. You're cold, so I'll warm you up; hungry, so I'll feed you; sad, so I'll make you happy."

With a wave of his candle, all three miracles happened: the snowflakes became a white fur cloak and hood on Effie's head and shoulders; a bowl of hot soup floated to her lips and disappeared when she eagerly drank the last drop; and suddenly, the dreary field transformed into a new world so full of wonders that all her troubles were forgotten in an instant.

Bells were ringing so joyfully that it was hard not to dance. Green garlands decorated the walls, and every tree was a Christmas tree filled with toys, shining with candles that never went out.

In one spot, many little spirits were sewing like crazy on warm clothes, producing items faster than any sewing machine ever made, and huge piles were prepared to be sent to those in need. Other industrious beings stuffed money into purses and wrote checks that they sent flying off into the wind—a beautiful kind of snowstorm to drift down into a world below filled with poverty.

Older and more serious spirits were examining stacks of little books that recorded the past year's events, detailing how various people had spent their time and what kinds of gifts they deserved. Some received peace, some faced disappointment, some felt remorse and sorrow, while others experienced great joy and hope. The wealthy were given generous thoughts; the poor received gratitude and contentment. Children had more love and responsibility towards their parents, and parents found renewed patience, wisdom, and satisfaction in their children. No one was overlooked.

"Can you tell me what an amazing place this is?" asked Effie, as soon as she could gather her thoughts after seeing all these incredible things.

"This is the Christmas world; and here we work all year round, never tired of preparing for the special day. Look, these are the saints just about to leave; some have a long way to travel, and we can’t let the children down."

As he talked, the spirit pointed to four gates, through which four large sleighs were just coming out, filled with toys, while a cheerful old Santa Claus sat in the middle of each one, putting on his mittens and bundling up his blankets for a long, chilly ride.

"Why, I thought there was only one Santa Claus, and even he was a fake," cried Effie, shocked by the sight.

"Never lose your belief in those charming old stories, even when you realize they’re just a nice reflection of a beautiful truth."

Just then, the sleighs took off with a loud jingling of bells and the sound of reindeer hooves, while all the spirits cheered, making a sound that echoed in the lower world, where people said, "Listen to the stars sing."

"I'll never say there isn't a Santa Claus again. Now, show me more."

"You'll probably enjoy seeing this place, and you might learn something here."

The spirit smiled as he led the way to a small door, through which Effie peeked into a world of dolls. Miniature houses were alive with dolls of all kinds acting like real people. Waxen ladies sat in their parlors, elegantly dressed; black dolls cooked in the kitchens; nurses walked out with little dolls; and the streets were filled with tin soldiers marching, wooden horses prancing, delivery wagons rumbling, and little men hurrying back and forth. There were shops with tiny people buying legs of mutton, pounds of tea, bits of clothing, and everything dolls use, wear, or desire.

But soon she realized that in some ways, the dolls were better at behaving than people, and she watched closely to understand why they acted this way. A beautiful Paris doll in her carriage picked up a black woolen Dinah, who was shuffling along with a basket of clean clothes, and took her to her destination, as if it were the right thing to do. Another intriguing china lady took off her cozy red cloak and wrapped it around a poor wooden figure dressed in a paper shift, so poorly painted that its face would freak out some babies.

"Seems like I once knew a wealthy girl who didn't share her things with those less fortunate. I wish I could remember who she was and tell her to be as kind as that china doll," said Effie, deeply moved by the sweet way the pretty girl wrapped up the poor frightened girl and then hurried off in her little gray dress to buy a shiny chicken on a wooden platter for her sick mother's dinner.

"We remind people of these things through dreams. I believe the girl you mentioned won't forget this one." And the spirit smiled, as if he was in on a joke that she didn’t get.

A small bell rang as she looked, and the children quickly ran into the red-and-green schoolhouse with the raised roof, allowing a view of how nicely they were sitting at their desks with tiny books or drawing on the inch-square blackboards with bits of chalk.

"They know their lessons really well and are as quiet as mice. We make a lot of noise at our school and get bad grades every day. I’ll tell the girls they'd better pay attention to what they're doing, or their dolls will be better students than they are," said Effie, feeling quite impressed, as she peeked in and saw no stick in the hand of the little teacher, who looked up and shook her head at the intruder, as if asking her to leave before the class was disrupted.

Effie left immediately, but she couldn't help but take a peek through the window of an elegant mansion, where the family was having dinner. The kids were so well-behaved at the table and didn't complain at all when their mom said they couldn't have any more fruit.

"Now, show me something else," she said, as they reached the low door that led out of Doll-land.

"You've seen how we get ready for Christmas; let me show you where we love to send our joyful gifts," replied the spirit, taking her hand once more.

"I know. I've seen so many," started Effie, thinking about her own Christmases.

"No, you’ve never seen what I’m about to show you. Come with me, and remember what you see tonight."

Like a flash, that bright world disappeared, and Effie found herself in a part of the city she had never seen before. It was far from the livelier areas, where every store was lit up and filled with beautiful things, and every house had a festive vibe, while people rushed around exchanging cheerful greetings. It was in the rundown streets where the poor lived, and where there was no preparation for Christmas.

Hungry women peered into the rundown shops, wishing they could buy meat and bread, but their empty pockets held them back. Drunken men spent their paychecks in the bars, while in many cold, dark rooms, little children huddled under thin blankets, trying to escape their misery through sleep.

No nice dinners filled the air with delicious smells, no cheerful trees dropped toys and candies into eager hands, no little stockings hung in rows by the fireplace ready to be filled, no happy sounds of music, lively voices, and dancing feet were heard; and there were no signs of Christmas anywhere.

"Don't they have any here?" asked Effie, shivering as she held tightly to the spirit's hand, following his lead.

"We're here to deliver it. Let me introduce you to our top workers." And the spirit gestured to a few kind-faced men and women who quietly entered the rundown homes, creating such beautiful miracles that Effie could only stand by and watch.

Some people slipped money into empty pockets and sent the happy mothers off to buy all the comforts they needed; others led the drunken men away from temptation and took them home to find safer pleasures there. Fires were lit in cold hearths, tables were set as if by magic, and warm clothes were wrapped around shivering limbs. Flowers suddenly bloomed in the rooms of the sick; elderly folks found themselves remembered; sad hearts were comforted by a kind word, and even the wicked were softened by the story of Him who forgave all sin.

But the most heartwarming work was for the children; and Effie held her breath to watch these human fairies hang up and fill the little stockings that make a child's Christmas complete, putting in things that she once would have considered very simple gifts, but which now seemed beautiful and precious because these poor little ones had nothing.

"That is so beautiful! I wish I could create joyful Christmases like these wonderful people do and be appreciated and thanked like they are," Effie said softly, as she watched the busy men and women do their work and quietly leave without expecting any reward except their own satisfaction.

"You can do it if you want to. I’ve shown you how. Give it a try, and you'll see how happy your own holidays will be from now on."

As he spoke, the spirit appeared to wrap his arms around her and disappeared with a kiss.

"Oh, please stay and show me more!" Effie exclaimed, trying to hold onto him tightly.

"Sweetheart, wake up and tell me why you're smiling in your sleep," said a voice in her ear; and when she opened her eyes, she saw Mom leaning over her, with morning sunlight pouring into the room.

"Are they all gone? Did you hear the bells? Wasn't it wonderful?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and looking around for the charming child who felt so real and sweet.

"You’ve been dreaming a lot—talking in your sleep, laughing, and clapping your hands like you were cheering for someone. Tell me what was so amazing," said mom, brushing the messy hair and lifting up the sleepy head.

Then, while she was getting dressed, Effie shared her dream, and Nursey found it really amazing; but Mom smiled at how oddly the things the child had thought, read, heard, and seen throughout the day came together in her sleep.

"The spirit told me I could create wonderful miracles if I put in the effort, but I don't know where to start. I don’t have a magic candle to summon feasts or light up groves of Christmas trees like he did," Effie said sadly.

"Yes, you have. We will do it! We will do it!" And clapping her hands, Mom suddenly started dancing all over the room as if she had lost her mind.

"How? How? You have to tell me, Mom," cried Effie, chasing after her, ready to believe anything was possible as she remembered the adventures from the night before.

"I've got it! I've got it!—the new idea. It's a brilliant one, if I can just make it happen!" And Mom danced the little girl around until her curls flew wildly in the air, while the nurse laughed like she would burst.

"Tell me! Tell me!" yelled Effie.

"No, no; it's a surprise—a big surprise for Christmas Day!" Mom sang, clearly delighted with her clever idea. "Now, come have breakfast because we need to work hard if we want to enjoy ourselves tomorrow. You and Nursey will go out shopping and get a bunch of things while I take care of everything behind the scenes."

They were running downstairs as Mom spoke, and Effie called out breathlessly,--

"It won't be a surprise because I know you’re going to ask some kids to come here, and have a tree or something. It won't be like my dream, because they had so many trees and more kids than we can find anywhere."

"There won’t be any tree, no party, no dinner in this house at all, and no presents for you. Won’t that be a surprise?" And Mom laughed at Effie’s confused face.

"Go for it. I’m pretty sure I’ll like it, and I won’t ask any questions, so it will all hit me at once when the time comes," she said; and she ate her breakfast thoughtfully, because this would really be a different kind of Christmas.

All that morning, Effie followed Nursey in and out of stores, buying dozens of barking dogs, fuzzy lambs, and squeaky birds; tiny tea sets, colorful picture books, mittens and hoods, dolls, and candy. Parcel after parcel was sent home, but when Effie got back, she found no sign of them, despite searching everywhere. Nursey chuckled but wouldn’t give a clue, and went out again in the afternoon with a long list of more things to buy, while Effie wandered around the house, feeling lonely and missing the usual cheerful hustle that led up to Christmas dinner and the evening festivities.

As for Mom, she was pretty much invisible all day and came in at night so exhausted that she could only lie on the couch to rest, smiling as if some really nice thought made her happy despite her fatigue.

"Is the surprise going smoothly?" Effie asked nervously, since it felt like an eternity until the next evening would arrive.

"Beautifully! Better than I expected; several of my good friends are helping, or I couldn't have done it the way I wanted. I know you will like it, dear, and will always remember this new way of making Christmas cheerful."

Mum gave her a gentle kiss, and Effie went to bed.

The next day was really odd; when she woke up, there was no stocking to check, no pile of gifts under her napkin, no one said "Merry Christmas!" to her, and dinner was just the same as usual. Mom had disappeared again, and Nursey kept wiping her eyes and saying, "Those sweet things! It's the nicest idea I’ve ever heard. No one but your wonderful mom could have done it."

"Please stop, Nursey, or I'm going to lose it because I don't know the secret!" Effie shouted more than once; and she kept glancing at the clock, since the surprise was supposed to happen at seven in the evening.

The eagerly awaited hour finally arrived, and the child was too excited to ask questions when the Nurse put on her cloak and hood, led her to the carriage, and they drove away, leaving their house the only dark and quiet one in the row.

"I feel like the girls in the fairy tales who are taken to strange places and see wonderful things," said Effie, quietly, as they walked through the lively streets.

"Ah, my dear, it is like a fairy tale, I promise you, and you will see more amazing things than most kids will tonight. Just stay calm and do exactly as I say, and don’t say a word no matter what you see," Nursey replied, clearly excited as she patted a large box in her lap, nodding and laughing with sparkling eyes.

They drove into a dark yard, and Effie was taken through a back door to a small room, where the nurse calmly removed not only her cloak and hood but also her dress and shoes. Effie stared and bit her lip, but stayed quiet until a little white fur coat and boots, a wreath of holly leaves and berries, and a candle with a gold paper frill came out of the box. A long "Oh!" escaped her then; and when she was dressed and saw herself in the mirror, she stepped back, exclaiming, "Wow, Nurse, I look like the spirit from my dream!"

"So you do; and that's the role you will play, my dear! Now be quiet, while I blindfold you and put you in your position."

"Should I be scared?" whispered Effie, filled with curiosity; as they stepped outside, she heard the noise of many voices and the sound of numerous footsteps, and despite the bandage, she was certain a bright light was shining on her when she paused.

"You don't need to worry; I’ll be right here, and your mom will be here too."

After the handkerchief was tied around her eyes, Nurse led Effie up some steps and set her on a high platform, where something like leaves brushed against her head, and the gentle click of lamps filled the air.

Music started as soon as Nurse clapped her hands, the voices outside sounded closer, and the footsteps were clearly coming up the stairs.

"Now, my dear, look and see how you and your lovely mom have created a joyful Christmas for those who needed it!"

Off came the bandage, and for a moment, Effie really thought she was asleep again because she was actually standing in "a grove of Christmas trees," all bright and shiny just like in her vision. Twelve on each side, in two rows down the room, stood the little pines, each on its low table; and behind Effie, a taller one reached up to the ceiling, decorated with wreaths of popcorn, apples, oranges, candy horns, and all kinds of cakes, from sugary hearts to giant gingerbread men. On the smaller trees, she saw many of her old toys and those Nursey had bought, along with piles that looked like they had fallen straight from that magical Christmas land where she felt she was again.

"How amazing! Who is it for? What’s that noise? Where’s Mom?" cried Effie, pale with excitement and surprise, as she stood looking down the bright little street from her high spot.

Before Nurse could respond, the doors at the end swung open, and in marched twenty-four little girls in blue gowns, singing sweetly. Their amazement quickly turned into shouts of joy and wonder as the dazzling scene unfolded. While they stood there, wide-eyed at the beautiful things around them, Mom came up next to Effie, holding her hand tightly to comfort her, and briefly shared the story of the dream, concluding like this:--

"So my little girl wanted to be a Christmas spirit too and make this a happy day for those who don’t have as many pleasures and comforts as she has. She loves surprises, so we planned this for all of you. She will play the good fairy and give each of you something from this tree. After that, everyone will find their own name on a small tree and can go enjoy it in their own way. Come on, my dears, and let's fill your hands."

Nobody instructed them to do it, but everyone clapped enthusiastically before a single child moved; then one by one, they came to look up in amazement at the lovely woman who hosted the feast as she leaned down to offer them bright yellow oranges, red apples, bunches of grapes, candies, and cakes, until everything was gone, and a double row of smiling faces turned to her as the children returned to their spots in the organized manner they had been taught.

Then each girl was led to her own tree by the kind ladies who had supported Mom with all their hearts; and the joyful chaos that erupted would have pleased even Santa Claus himself—screams of happiness, joyful dances, laughter, and tears (because some delicate little ones couldn’t handle so much excitement at once, sobbing with mouths full of candy and hands full of toys). They ran to show each other their new treasures! They peeked and tasted, pulled and pinched, until the air was filled with strange noises, the floor was covered in wrapping paper, and the little trees were left bare except for the candles!

"I don't think heaven can be any better than this," sighed a little girl, as she looked around her in a blissful daze, holding her full apron with one hand, while she happily brought sugar plums to her mouth with the other.

"Is that actually an angel up there?" asked another, captivated by the small white figure with the wreath on its glowing hair, who somehow had sparked all this joy.

"I wish I had the courage to go and kiss her for this amazing party," said a disabled child, leaning on her crutch, as she stood near the steps, wondering what it felt like to sit in a mother's lap, like Effie was doing, while she watched the joyful scene around her.

Effie heard her, and thinking of Tiny Tim, rushed down and wrapped her arms around the pale child, kissing the sad face as she sweetly said, "You can, but mom deserves the thanks. She did everything; I just dreamed about it."

Lame Katy felt like "a true angel" was holding her, and she could only mumble her thanks, while the other kids rushed over to see the beautiful spirit and touch her soft dress, until she was surrounded by a group of blue gowns laughing as they showed off their gifts for her to see and admire.

Mamma bent down and whispered a word to the older girls; and suddenly they all held hands to dance around Effie, singing as they moved.

It was a beautiful sight, and the ladies found it hard to break up the joyful celebration; but it was late for little ones, and too much fun can be overwhelming. So the girls lined up and marched in front of Effie and mom again to say good-night with such grateful little faces that those who watched felt tears welling up in their eyes. Mom kissed each one; and many a hungry little heart felt like the touch of those gentle lips was the best gift they could receive. Effie shook so many small hands that her own felt tingly; and when Katy came up, she pressed a small doll into Effie's hand, whispering, "You didn't get a single present, and we got so many. Please keep this; it's the prettiest thing I got."

"I will," Effie replied, holding on to it tightly until the last smiling face disappeared, the surprise was over, and she was cozy in her own bed, too exhausted and content for anything but sleep.

"Mom, it was a beautiful surprise, and I really appreciate it! I can't believe how you pulled it off; but I liked it more than any Christmas I've ever had, and I plan to make one every year. I got my amazing big present, and here is the sweet little one to keep for the love of poor Katy; so even that part of my wish came true."

And Effie fell asleep with a happy smile on her lips, her one modest gift still in her hand, and a new love for Christmas in her heart that remained unchanged throughout a long life dedicated to doing good.

II.

Candyland.

"I’m going to take Mom’s red sun-umbrella; it’s so warm, and none of the kids at school will have anything like it," said Lily one day as she walked through the hall.

"The wind is really strong; I'm worried you might get blown away if you take that big thing," shouted Nurse from the window, as the red umbrella bounced down the garden path with a small girl underneath it.

"I wish it would; I've always wanted to go up in a balloon," Lily replied, as she worked her way out of the gate.

She was doing great until she reached the bridge and paused to lean over the railing, watching the water rush by and the turtles basking on the rocks. Lily loved to throw stones at them; it was hilarious to see them tumble, flipping over and splashing into the water. Now, seeing three big ones nearby, she bent down to grab a stone, and just at that moment, a strong gust of wind nearly yanked the umbrella out of her hand. She held on tight, and suddenly she was swept away like a dandelion seed, soaring up into the air, over the river, hills, houses, and trees, faster and faster, until her head spun, her breath was gone, and she had to let go. The cute red umbrella flew away like a leaf, and Lily fell, down and down, until she crashed into a tree that grew in such an odd spot that she forgot her fear as she sat there, looking around and wondering where in the world she could be.

The tree looked like it was made of glass or colorful sugar; she could see through the red cherries, the green leaves, and the brown branches. A sweet smell filled the air, and she immediately exclaimed, like any child would, "I smell candy!" She picked a cherry and ate it. Oh, it was so good!—all sugar and no pit. The next discovery was so exciting that she nearly fell off her branch; by touching her tongue here and there, she realized that the entire tree was made of candy. Just imagine the fun of sitting there and breaking off pieces of candy canes, candied cherries, and leaves that tasted like peppermint and sassafras!

Lily rocked back and forth and ate until she finished the top of the small tree; then she climbed down and walked along, making more surprising and pleasant discoveries as she continued.

What looked like snow under her feet was white sugar; the rocks were chunks of chocolate, the flowers in all colors and flavors; and every kind of fruit grew on these charming trees. Little white houses soon appeared, and this is where the adorable candy people lived, all made of the finest sugar and painted to look like real people. Sweet little men and women, looking like they had just stepped off wedding cakes and candy, walked around in their bright sugar clothes, laughing and chatting in the sweetest voices. Tiny babies rocked in open cradles, and sugar boys and girls played with candy toys in the most natural way. Carriages rolled along the jujube streets, pulled by the red and yellow barley horses we all love; cows grazed in the green fields, and sugar birds sang in the trees.

Lily listened, and after a moment, she understood what the song meant,--

"Sweet! Sweet!

Come, come and eat.

Dear little girls

With yellow curls;

For here you’ll find

Treats to enjoy.

On every tree

Sugar-plums you’ll see;

In every glade

Caramels are made.

Over every wall

Gumdrops fall;

Molasses flows

Where our river goes.

Under your feet

Lies sugar sweet;

Over your head

Almonds grow red.

Our lily and rose

Are not for the nose;

Our flowers we pick

To eat or lick.

And, oh! what bliss

When two friends kiss,

For they sip honey

From lip to lip!

And all you meet,

In house or street,

At work or play,

Are sweethearts today.

So, little dear,

Please feel no fear:

Go where you like;

Eat, eat your fill.

Here is a feast

From west to east;

And you can say,

Before you go away,

'At last I stand

In sweet Candy-land,

And can’t eat more;

For now I’ve had enough.'

Sweet! Sweet!

Tweet! Tweet!

Tweedle-dee!

Tweedle-dee!"

"That's the most interesting song I've ever heard," said Lily, clapping her sticky hands and dancing toward a beautiful palace made of white cream candy, with striped peppermint stick pillars and a frosting roof that made it look like the Milan Cathedral.

"I'll live here and eat candy all day long, without any boring school or chores to ruin my fun," said Lily.

So she ran up the chocolate stairs into the beautiful rooms, where all the chairs and tables were made of different colored candies, and the beds were made of spun sugar. A lemonade fountain provided drinks; and the ice cream floors that never melted kept people and things from sticking together, as they would have if it had been warm.

For a long time, Lily was really happy, trying out lots of different kinds of candies, chatting with the friendly little people, and discovering interesting things about them and their land.

The babies were made of plain sugar, but the adults had different flavors. The young women were flavored with violet, rose, and orange; the men often had some kind of liqueur inside them, as she discovered when she sneakily ate one now and then and got her tongue burned by the strong, spicy taste as a result. The older people tasted like peppermint, clove, and other comforting things, good for pain; but the old maids had lemon, hoarhound, flag-root, and all kinds of sour, bitter things in them, so they weren't eaten much. Lily quickly learned to identify the personalities of her new friends by just one taste, and some she only touched once. The sweet babies melted in her mouth, and she really liked the delicately flavored young women. Dr. Ginger was called to her more than once when all that candy made her teeth ache, and she found him to be a very hot-tempered little man; but he relieved the pain, so she was happy to see him.

A lime-drop boy and a little pink checker-berry girl were her favorite playmates; and they had a great time making mud pies by scraping chocolate rocks and mixing the dust with honey from nearby wells. They could actually eat these, and Lily thought it was way better than tossing the pies out like she had to do at home. They often had candy pulls and made swings out of long loops of molasses candy, and bird's nests with almond eggs, which hatched into birds that sang sweetly. They played football with big bull's-eyes, sailed in sugar boats on syrupy lakes, fished in molasses rivers, and rode barley horses all over the place.

Lily found out that it never rained, but snowed white sugar. There was no sun, since that would have been too hot; instead, a big yellow lozenge served as the moon, and red and white candies were the stars.

The people all lived on sugar and never fought. No one was sick; and if someone got broken, which sometimes happened with such fragile beings, they just stuck the pieces back together and were fine again. The way they aged was by getting thinner and thinner until there was a risk of them disappearing. Then, their friends would place the old person in a nice coffin and take him to the large golden urn that stood in their biggest temple, always filled with a certain fine syrup; and here he was dipped and dipped until he was healthy and strong again, then went home to enjoy life for a long time, as good as new.

This was really interesting to Lily, and she attended many funerals. But the weddings were even better; the beautiful white brides looked so sweet that Lily wished she could eat them. The feasts were delicious, and everyone dressed in their finest clothes, dancing at the ball until they got so warm that half a dozen people would stick together and have to be taken to the ice cream room to cool off. Then the couple would drive away in a fancy carriage pulled by white horses to a new palace somewhere else in the country, and Lily would have another lovely place to visit.

But eventually, after she had seen everything and eaten so much candy that she started craving plain bread and butter, she began to get cranky, like kids always do when they have too much sweets; and the little people wished she would leave because they were scared of her. It’s no surprise, considering she would grab a cute sugar baby and eat him, or tear some respectable old granny into pieces just because she scolded her for misbehaving. Lily calmly sat down on the biggest church, flattening it, and even tried to poke the moon out of the sky one day in a fit. The king ordered her to go home, but she said, "I won’t!" and bit his head off, crown and all.

Such a cry arose over this terrible act that she fled from the city, afraid that someone would poison her candy, as it was her only food.

"I guess I'll get somewhere if I keep walking; and I won't starve, even though I can't stand looking at this awful stuff," she said to herself, as she hurried over the mountains of Gibraltar Rock that separated the city of Saccharissa from the vast desert of brown sugar that stretched out beyond.

Lily marched on bravely for a long time and finally saw a thick cloud of smoke in the sky, smelled a spicy scent, and felt a warm wind blowing toward her.

"I wonder if there are cannibals around here, roasting and eating some unfortunate traveler like me," she said, thinking of Robinson Crusoe and other explorers in unfamiliar places.

She quietly moved along until she spotted a cluster of small huts that looked a lot like mushrooms, made of cookies resting on mounds of brown sugar. Strange people, looking as if they were made of gingerbread, were busy working around several stoves that appeared to be baking at an impressive speed.

"I'll sneak closer and see what kind of people they are before I reveal myself," said Lily, stepping into a grove of spice trees and sitting down on a stone that turned out to be the sweet kind of cake we used to call Brighton Rock.

Right now, one of the tallest guys walked confidently toward the trees with a pan, clearly looking for spice; and before she could run, he noticed Lily.

"Hey, what do you want?" he asked, staring at her with his dark, currant-colored eyes, while he quickly stripped the bark off a cinnamon tree.

"I'm traveling and would like to know where I am, if you don't mind," Lily replied politely, feeling a bit frightened.

"Cake-land. Where are you from?" asked the gingerbread man, in a sharp tone.

"I was blown into Candy country and have been there for a long time; but I got tired of it and ran away to find something better."

"Sensible child!" the man smiled so wide that Lily thought his cheeks might burst. "You'll do better here with us Brownies than with the lazy Bonbons, who never lift a finger and are just for show. They won’t acknowledge us, even though we’re all connected through our grandparents Sugar and Molasses. We’re busy folks, so they look down on us and don’t talk to us when we cross paths at parties. Poor things, so silly, sweet, and insubstantial! I feel sorry for them."

"Can I come over for a visit? I want to see how you live and what you do. I'm sure it must be fascinating," said Lily, getting back on her feet after a fall, having eaten almost all the stone because she was so hungry.

"I know you will. Come on! I can chat while I work." And the amusing gingerbread man skipped off toward his kitchen, filled with pans, rolling pins, and molasses jugs.

"Sit down. I'll be free as soon as this batch is baked. There are still some smart folks down below who enjoy gingerbread, and I'm really busy," he said, rushing around, stirring, rolling out, and pressing the brown dough into pans, which he whisked into the oven and out again so quickly that Lily realized there had to be some magic involved.

Every now and then, he would give her a tasty cookie fresh out of the oven. She liked the odd guy and soon started talking, being really curious about this country.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Ginger Snap."

Lily thought it was a good one because he was really quick, and she imagined he could be blunt and direct if he wanted to.

"Where does all this cake go?" she asked, after watching the other kitchens filled with workers, each making different kinds of cake, and each group of bakers specializing in their own type.

"I'll show you soon," Snap replied, starting to stack the piles of gingerbread on a small cart that moved along a track leading to some mysterious storeroom, or so Lily thought.

"Don’t you ever get tired of doing this all the time?"

"Yes; but I want to get promoted, and I won't succeed until I've done my best and won the prize here."

"Oh, tell me about it! What’s the prize, and how do you get promoted? Is this a cooking school?"

"Yes, the prize for the best gingerbread is a block of condensed yeast. That gives me life, and I start to rise until I can go over the hills over there into the wonderful land of bread, and become one of the happy beings who are always good for you, always necessary, and without whom the world below would be in real trouble."

"Wow! That's the strangest thing I've heard yet. But I get why you want to leave; I'm sick of sweets too, and I'm craving a nice piece of bread, even though I used to just want cake and candy at home."

"Ah, my dear, you’ll learn a lot here; and you’re lucky not to have fallen into the grasp of Giant Dyspepsia, who always catches people if they eat too much junk and ignore healthy bread. I leave my ginger behind when I go and become white, round, and beautiful, as you will see. The Gingerbread family has never been as foolish as some of the other cakes. Wedding cakes are the worst; I've never seen such extravagance with wine, spice, and fruit, and it ends up being such a mess to eat when it’s done! I’m not surprised people get sick; they deserve it." And Snap slammed down a pan with such force that it made Lily jump.

"Sponge cake isn't bad, is it? Mom lets me have it, but I like frosted pound cake better," she said, glancing over to the next kitchen, where stacks of that kind of cake were being frosted.

"Bad stuff. No substance. Ladyfingers are fine for babies, but pound cake has way too much butter to be healthy. Forget it and just eat cookies or seed cakes, my dear. Now, let's go; I'm ready." And Snap quickly rolled away with his carload.

Lily ran behind to pick up whatever fell and looked around as she did, because this was definitely a very strange place. There were lakes filled with whipped eggs and hot springs of baking soda bubbling everywhere, ready to use. The ground was like brown sugar or ground spices, and the only fruits available were raisins, dried currants, citron, and lemon peel. It was a very busy place since everyone cooked all the time, never seemed to fail, and never looked tired, even though they got so hot that they only wore sheets of paper as clothes. There were piles of it to cover the cakes so they wouldn't burn, and they made chef's white hats and aprons out of it, looking very nice. A large clock made of a flat pancake, with cloves marking the hours and two toothpicks for hands, showed them how long to bake things; and in one spot, an ice wall surrounded a lake of butter, which they cut into chunks as they needed it.

"Here we are. Now, step back while I drop them down," said Snap, finally stopping in front of a hole in the ground where a dumbwaiter was hanging ready, with a name above it.

There were many holes all around, and many waiters, each with its own name; and Lily was amazed when she read "Weber," "Copeland," "Dooling," and others, which she recognized very well.

Over Snap's place was the name "Newmarch;" and Lily said, "Oh, that's where Mom gets her hard gingerbread, and Weber's is where we go for ice cream. Do you make cake for them?"

"Yeah, but no one knows that. It's one of the trade secrets. We make all the sweets for the candy shops, and people believe the delicious stuff comes from the basements under their bars. Pretty funny, right?" And Snap laughed so hard he strained his neck and started coughing.

Lily was so surprised that she sat down on a warm queen's cake that was nearby and watched Snap send down load after load of gingerbread for the kids, who would have enjoyed it much more if they had known where it came from, like she did.

As she sat there, the clattering of spoons, the aroma of different meals, and the sounds of various voices calling out, "One vanilla, two strawberries, and a Charlotte Russe," "Three stews, cup of coffee, dry toast," "Roast chicken and apple without," came from the next booth, which was labeled "Copeland."

"Wow! It feels like I was right there," said Lily, wanting to jump down but worried about the drop on the other side.

"I'm done. Come on, I'll give you a ride back," Snap called, tossing the last cookie after the dumbwaiter as it slowly disappeared with its spicy load.

"I wish you'd teach me to cook. It seems like so much fun, and Mom wants me to learn; but our cook hates it when I mess around and gets so grumpy that I don't want to try at home," said Lily, as she rolled away.

"Better wait until you get to Bread-land and learn how to make that. It's a valuable skill, and it's worth knowing. Don't spend your time on cake, although plain gingerbread is nice to have around. I'll teach you that in no time, as long as the clock doesn't strike my hour too soon," replied Snap, helping her down.

"What time?"

"Why, about my freedom. I never know when I’ve finished my task until the bells ring and I go to retrieve my soul," said Snap, turning his expectant eyes anxiously to the clock.

"I hope you will have time." And Lily got to work with all her effort, after Snap had put a paper apron and a cap on her just like his.

It wasn’t difficult; whenever she was about to make a mistake, a spark flew from the fire and burned her just in time to remind her to check the receipt, which was a piece of gingerbread framed in pie crust hanging in front of her, with the instructions written while it was soft and baked in. The third sheet she made came out of the oven spicy, light, and brown; and Snap, giving it one poke, said, "That’s all good. Now you know. Here’s your reward."

He gave her a receipt book made of thin sheets of sugar gingerbread, held together by gelatin binding, with her name stamped on the back. Each page was crimped with a cake cutter in the most elegant way.

Lily was enchanted by it, but had no time to read everything inside; just then, the clock started to chime, and a series of bells rang out,--

"Gingerbread,

Go to the front.

Your job is done;

A soul is saved.

Take it and go

Where muffins grow,

Where sweet loaves rise

To the very skies,

And biscuits fair

Scent the air.

Away, away!

Don't delay;

In the sea of flour

Dive this hour.

Safe in your heart

Let the yeast-cake rest,

Until you rise in joy,

A white bread boy!"

 

"Ha, ha! I’m free! I’m free!" shouted Snap, grabbing the silver-covered square that seemed to drop from the sky; and running toward a huge white sea of flour, he dove in headfirst, holding the yeast cake tightly to his chest as if his life depended on it.

Lily watched in awe as a curious working and bubbling happened, almost like Snap was tumbling around down there like a small earthquake. The other cake-folk gathered around the shore with her; it was a big deal, and everyone was happy that the dear fellow was promoted so quickly. Suddenly, a cry echoed, and up rose a beautiful white figure on the other side of the sea. It waved its hand, as if to say "Goodbye," and ran over the hills so quickly that they barely had time to notice how plump and fair it looked, with a little knob on top of its head like a crown.

"He's gone to a happy place, and we will miss him; but we'll follow his example and soon find him again," said a soft sponge cake, with a sigh, as everyone returned to their work; while Lily hurried after Snap, excited to see the new land, which was the best of all.

A delicious smell of fresh bread wafted up from the valley as she stood on the hilltop and looked down at the peaceful scene below. Fields of golden grain swayed in the breeze; hop vines climbed from tree to tree; and several windmills turned their white sails as they ground different grains into fresh, sweet flour, for the loaves of bread that built the houses like bricks and paved the streets, or took many shapes to form the people, furniture, and animals. A river of milk flowed through the tranquil land, and yeast fountains bubbled up and down with a pleasant foam and fizz. The ground was a mix of various flours, and the paths were made of golden Indian corn, which added a cheerful touch to the scene. Buckwheat flowers bloomed on their rosy stems, and tall corn stalks rustled their leaves in the warm air that drifted from the ovens hidden in the hillsides; because bread needs a slow fire, and a friendly volcano did the baking here.

"What a lovely place!" exclaimed Lily, appreciating the charm of the cozy landscape, despite the amusingly chubby people wandering around.

Two of these figures came running to meet her as she slowly walked down the yellow path from the hill. One was a golden boy, with a beaming face; the other a little girl in a shiny brown cloak, who looked like she would taste really nice. They each took Lily's hand into theirs, and the boy said,--

"We're happy to see you. Muffin mentioned you were on your way."

"Thanks. Who is Muffin?" Lily asked, feeling like she had seen both of these little people before and liked them.

"He was Ginger Snap once, but now he's a Muffin. We start like that and gradually work our way up to the perfect loaf. My name is Johnny Cake, and she's Sally Lunn. You know us, so let's have a race."

Lily started laughing at the thought of playing with her old friends, and all three of them ran away as quickly as they could, down the hill, over a bridge, into the village, where they stopped, out of breath, and sat down on some really soft rolls to take a break.

"What do you all do here?" Lily asked when she caught her breath again.

"We farm, we study, we bake, we brew, and we're as happy as can be all day long. It's time for school now, and we need to go; will you join us?" said Sally, jumping up as if she was really excited.

"Our schools aren’t like yours; we only focus on two things—grain and yeast. I think you’ll enjoy it. We have yeast today, and the experiments are really fun," Johnny said as he headed off to a tall brown tower made of rye and Indian bread, where the school was held.

Lily never liked going to school, but she was too embarrassed to admit it; so she went along with Sally, and was so entertained by everything she saw that she was glad she came. The brown loaf was hollow and had no top; when she asked why they used a ruin, Sally told her to wait and see why they picked strong walls and plenty of headspace. All around, there was a circle of very small biscuits that looked like cushions, and on these the Bread-children sat. A square loaf in the middle served as the teacher's desk, and on it lay an ear of wheat, along with several well-corked bottles of yeast. The teacher was a friendly, plump lady from Vienna, very knowledgeable, and so famous for her good bread that she was a Professor of Grainology.

When everyone was seated, she started with the ear of wheat and explained it in such an engaging way that Lily felt like she had never really understood anything about the bread she ate before. The experiments with the yeast were really exciting—Fraulein Pretzel demonstrated how it would erupt and blow the cork off, fizzing up into the air if left too long; how it could turn sour or flat and ruin the bread if not used at the exact right time; and how using too much would make the loaf rise so much that it became insubstantial.

The kids were really bright because they ate the best kinds of oatmeal and Graham bread, with hardly any white bread or pancakes that would upset their stomachs. They were cheerful and healthy boys and girls, full of energy. They danced and sang, looking as happy and lively as if they had no idea what sourness, heaviness, or mold felt like.

Lily was really happy with them, and when school was over, she went home with Sally and had the best bread and milk for dinner that she had ever tasted. In the afternoon, Johnny took her to the cornfield and showed her how they kept the growing ears free from mildew and worms. Then she went to the bakehouse, where she found her old friend Muffin hard at work making Parker House rolls, since he was such a good cook that he was immediately assigned to make the lighter types of bread.

"Well, isn’t this better than Candy-land or Saccharissa?" he asked, as he rolled and folded his pieces of dough with a bit of butter tucked inside.

"Absolutely!" exclaimed Lily. "I feel so much better already, and I'm determined to learn everything I can. Mom will be so happy if I can bake good bread when I get home. She's a bit old-fashioned and wants me to be a good housekeeper. I didn't find bread interesting before, but I do now; and Johnny's mom is going to teach me how to make Indian cakes tomorrow."

"Happy to hear that. Learn everything you can, and share with others how to create healthy bodies and happy minds by eating good, simple food. Not like this, although these rolls are better than cake. I have to improve my baking skills to get to the perfect loaf, you know; and then, oh, then, I’ll be so happy."

"What happens next? Do you move on to some other amazing place?" asked Lily, as Muffin paused with a smile on his face.

"Yes; I am consumed by some wise, good person, and become a part of them. That is immortality and heaven; because I can nourish a poet and help him sing, or support a great woman who makes the world better just by being in it, or be crumbled into the golden bowl of a baby prince who is destined to rule a kingdom. Isn't that a noble way to live, and a goal worth striving for?" asked Muffin, in a tone that made Lily feel as if some kind of fine yeast had gotten into her, and was inspiring her mind to work with new ideas.

"Yes, it is. I guess all ordinary things are made for that reason, if only we realized it; and people should be happy to do anything to help the world, even bake good bread in a kitchen," Lily replied, her serious tone indicating that her mind was already processing this new idea.

She stayed in Bread-land for a long time, enjoying and learning a lot that she would never forget. But eventually, after she had made the perfect loaf, she wanted to go home so her mother could see and taste it.

"I’ve put a lot of myself into this, and I’d really like to think I’ve given her some strength or joy through my work," she said, as she and Sally stood admiring the beautiful loaf.

"You can leave whenever you want; just take the bread in your hands and wish three times, and you’ll be wherever you say. I’m sorry to see you go, but I understand wanting to see your mom. Don’t forget what you’ve learned, and you’ll always be happy you came to us," said Sally, kissing her goodbye.

"Where's Muffin? I can't leave without seeing him, my dear old friend," Lily said, glancing around for him.

"He’s here," said Sally, touching the loaf. "He was ready to go and chose to pass into your bread instead of any other because he said he loved you and would be happy to help feed such a good little girl."

"How nice of him! I have to make sure I become wise and amazing, or he’ll be let down and his efforts will have been for nothing," said Lily, moved by his dedication.

Then, saying goodbye to everyone, she hugged her loaf tightly, wished three times to be back home, and in an instant, she was there.

Whether her friends believed her amazing story of adventures, I’m not sure; but I do know that she became a great little housekeeper from that day on and made such good bread that other girls came to learn from her. She also transformed from a sickly, fussy child into a strong, healthy woman because she ate very little cake and candy, except at Christmas, when the oldest and wisest enjoy a short trip to Candyland.

III.

Naughty Jocko.

"A music man! A music man! Hurry and see if he has a monkey on his organ," yelled little Neddy, dashing to the window in a big rush one day.

Yes, there was the monkey in his blue and red outfit, wearing a silly little hat, with his long tail trailing behind. But he didn’t seem like a lively monkey; he sat huddled up, his sad face anxiously turned toward his owner, who kept tugging on the chain to make him dance. The tight collar had made his neck sore; and when the man jerked the chain, the poor creature moaned and raised his little hand to grip the chain. He tried to dance, but he was so weak that he could only hop a few steps before stopping to catch his breath. The cruel man wouldn’t let him rest until Neddy called out,--

"Don't hurt him; let him come up here and get this cake, and take a break while you play. I've got some change for you."

So poor Jocko climbed slowly up the trellis and sat on the window ledge trying to eat, but he was so tired that he fell asleep. When the man pulled to wake him up, he slipped and fell, lying there as if he were dead. Neddy and his aunt rushed down to see if he was hurt. The angry man scolded and shook him, but he didn't move, and the man said,--

"He’s dead. I don’t want him. I’ll sell him to someone to preserve."

"No; his heart is beating a bit. Leave him here for a few days, and we’ll take care of him; and if he gets better, maybe we’ll buy him," said Aunt Jane, who enjoyed nursing even a sick monkey.

The man said he would be gone for a week, visiting nearby towns, and would check in when he returned. After that, he left; and Neddy and his aunt placed Jocko in a nice basket and brought him inside. As soon as the door closed and he felt secure, the sly little guy peeked out with one eye. Seeing just the sweet boy, he started to chatter and kick off the shawl, because he wasn’t really hurt—just tired and hungry, and terribly frightened of the mean man who had beaten and starved him.

Neddy was thrilled and found it really funny, and he helped his aunt take off the stiff collar and apply some ointment on her sore neck. Then they enjoyed milk and cake; after he had a hearty meal, Jocko curled up and slept until the next day. He was pretty energetic in the morning; when Aunt Jane went to wake Neddy, Jocko wasn’t in his basket, and while searching the room for him, she noticed the little black creature lying on the boy's pillow, with his arm wrapped around Neddy's neck like a strange baby.

"My patience! I can’t let that happen," said the old lady, and went to pull Jocko out. But he slipped away like an eel and crawled, chattering and burrowing, down to the bottom of the bed, holding onto Neddy's toes until he woke up, crying that crabs were pinching him.

Then they had a great time; Jocko climbed all over the bed, up on the tall wardrobe, and the shelf over the door, where there was a statue of an angel. He patted it, hugged it, and looked so silly with his ugly black face next to the pretty white one that Neddy rolled on the floor, and Aunt Jane laughed until her glasses flew off. After a while, he came down, had a nice breakfast, and let them tie a red ribbon over the bandage on his neck. He liked the bright color and kept going to look in the mirror, grinning and chattering at his own reflection, which he clearly admired.

"Now, he's going to walk with me, and all the kids will see my new pet," said Neddy as he marched off with Jock on his shoulder.

Everyone laughed at the funny little guy with his twinkling eyes, brown hands, and long tail, and Neddy felt pretty proud until they got to the store; that's when the trouble started. He put Jocko on a table near the door and told him to stay there while he ran his errands. Now, right nearby was the candy section, and Jocko loved sweets just like any girl; so he hopped over and started munching on whatever he liked. Some boys tried to stop him, and he got angry when they pulled his tail, throwing handfuls of candy at them. That was a blast; the more they laughed and scrambled around trying to catch it, the faster he showered chocolates, caramels, and peppermints over them, making it look like it had rained candy. The man was busy with Neddy at the other end of the store, but when he heard the noise, both of them ran to see what was going on. Neither of them could stop naughty Jocko, who loved this game and ran up onto the high shelves among the toys. Then down came little tubs and doll stoves, tin trumpets, and cradles, while boxes of toy soldiers and whole villages flew through the air, smash, bang, rattle, bump, all over the floor. The man yelled, Neddy cried, the boys shouted, and it was chaotic in that shop until a good whack with a long stick made Jock tumble into a tub of water where some curious fish lived, and that's when they caught him.

Neddy was really embarrassed and told the guy that his aunt would cover the costs for all the broken stuff. Then he took his mischievous pet and started heading home to tie him up because it was clear this monkey couldn't be trusted. But as soon as they got outside, Jocko ran up a tree and jumped onto a load of hay passing by. There, he danced around and had a blast, throwing off the man's coat and rake and munching on some of the dinner wrapped in cloth. He tossed the crusts of bread and bones at the horse; this new kind of whip scared the horse, making it bolt down a steep hill, tipping over the hay and wrecking the cart. Oh, what a mess! It was worse than the candy incident; the man yelled, the horse got hurt, and people said the monkey should be put down for all the trouble he caused. Jocko didn’t care one bit; he perched high up in a tree, chattering and scolding, swinging by his tail, and being so silly that people couldn’t help but laugh at him. Poor Neddy cried again and went home to tell Aunt Jane about his troubles, worried that he’d have to spend all the money in his bank to pay for the damage the naughty monkey caused in just one hour.

As soon as he was alone, Jocko came skipping over, jumped on his back, peeked at him, and patted his cheeks. He was so cute and well-behaved that Neddy couldn't scold him, but he locked him in a closet to teach him a lesson.

Jocko was tired, so he went to sleep, and everything was quiet until dinner time. They were ready for the pudding, and Neddy had saved a spot for a good helping, since he really liked snow-pudding, when screams were heard in the kitchen, and Mary the maid rushed in to say,--

"Oh, ma'am, that awful creature has ruined the pudding and is scaring Katy to death!"

They all dashed off, and there sat that mischievous monkey on the table, tossing the lovely white snow everywhere onto the poor cook, making her face look like it was ready for a shave. His own face looked just as messy because he'd eaten all he wanted while the pudding was cooling in the pantry. He had sneaked out of a window in the closet and had a great time rummaging through the sugar buckets, butter boxes, and milk pans.

Kate cried, and Mary yelled at her; but Aunt Jane and Grandpa laughed, and Neddy chased Jock into the garden with a broom. They had to have bread and jelly for dessert, and it took the girls a long time to clean up the mess that troublemaker made.

"We're going to put his collar and leash on again and keep him tied up the whole time until the man arrives," said Aunt Jane.

"But I can't catch him," sighed Neddy, watching the little imp zip around the garden among the currant bushes, chasing the hens and tossing green apples around in high spirits.

"Sit down somewhere quietly and wait until he gets tired; then he'll come to you, and you can hold him tight," said Aunt Jane.

So Neddy waited; and even though he was quite concerned about his new pet's misbehavior, he found himself enjoying its antics like a kid.

Grandpa took afternoon naps on the porch and was dozing comfortably when Jocko swung down from the grapevine by his long tail and tickled the old man's nose with a straw. Grandpa sneezed and opened one eye to swat at what he thought was a fly. Then he fell asleep again, and Jocko dropped a caterpillar on his bald head. This made him open the other eye to see what that soft, creepy thing was. Neddy couldn't help laughing because he often wanted to do just that but never dared, since grandpa was a very strict old man, and no one messed with him. Jocko wasn’t afraid, though; and soon he crept over to the table, stole the glasses lying there, put them on, and picked up a newspaper, holding it in front of him and chattering as if he were reading it, just like he’d seen people do. Neddy laughed out loud at this and clapped his hands because Jocko looked so much like a little old man, despite the tail curled up behind him. This time grandpa opened both eyes wide and stared as if he were seeing a hobgoblin before him; then he snatched off the glasses and grabbed his cane, shouting angrily,--

"You little rascal, how dare you!"

But Jocko threw the paper in his face and, with one leap, landed on the back of old Tom, the big yellow cat, who was sleeping nearby. Terrified, Tom hissed and jumped, but Jocko hung onto his collar and they raced around the garden while the girls laughed at the silly scene and Neddy shouted, "It's a circus; there's the monkey and the pony!" Even grandpa smiled, especially when the cat shot up a tree and Jock fell off. He chased Tom, and they had a great showdown, but Tom's claws were sharp, and the monkey got a scratch on the nose, then ran to Neddy crying for comfort.

"Now, you mischievous little guy, I’m going to tie you up and put an end to these terrible antics. But you’re so much fun, and I can’t bring myself to punish you," said the boy; for he understood the joy of a day off, and poor Jocko hadn’t had one in a long time.

Jocko had some lunch, took a nap in the grass, and then felt ready for more fun. Neddy had tied him to a tree in the garden so he could enjoy the sun and fresh air, and catch grasshoppers if he wanted. But Jocko wanted something more exciting; soon, Neddy, who was reading in his hammock on the porch, heard a loud commotion among the hens and looked up to see the monkey swinging from a branch by his tail, grabbing hold of the big rooster by his fancy tail, while all twenty hens clucked and squawked in anger and fear at such a terrible trick.

"That's such a bummer; I will slap him this time," Neddy said, rushing to save his beautiful bird from being harmed. By the time he arrived, though, poor Cocky had already pulled out all his nice tail feathers in his panic, and when he was freed, he was so scared and embarrassed that he ran off and hid in the bushes while the hens went to comfort him.

Neddy gave Jocko a good spanking, leaving him looking as innocent as a baby, all curled up in a little ball with his head in his hands like he was crying for being bad. But he wasn’t sorry. Oh, no! Because in half an hour, he had picked every single one of the sweet peas Aunt Jane loved, tossed all the tomatoes over the fence, and let the parrot out of his cage. The sight of Polly walking into the living room with a polite "How are you, ma'am?" made Aunt Jane rush to see what was happening. Neddy was fast asleep in the hammock, exhausted from his mischief, and Jocko, having unhooked his chain, was sitting on the neighbor's chimney, munching on corn.

"We won’t make it to the end of the week if this keeps happening. I have no idea how to handle the little troublemaker; he’s as difficult to manage as an elephant," the poor lady said in despair, watching Jocko throw his corncob onto the minister’s hat as the dignified gentleman walked past.

As none of them could catch him, Miss Jane left him alone until Neddy woke up and could go find some of the older boys to help him.

Jocko soon left the roof and jumped in through an open window. It was little Nelly Brown's playroom, and she had left her pet doll, Maud Mabel Rose Matilda, very sick in the best bed while she went downstairs to get a poppy leaf to soothe the doll's cheeks because she had a high fever. Jocko got interested in the pretty bed, and after turning the playhouse upside down, he yanked poor Maud Mabel Rose Matilda out by her blonde hair, stuffed her upside down into the water pitcher, climbed into the bed, drew the lace curtains, and got ready to doze comfortably under the pink silk bedcover.

Up came Nelly and immediately went to the dear invalid, saying in her caring little voice,--

"Now, my dear child, lie still, and I won't hurt you at all."

But when she pulled back the curtain, instead of the beautiful doll with yellow hair wearing a frilly nightcap, she saw a nasty little black face staring back at her, with a tiny hand gripping the sheet tightly. Nelly let out a scream and ran downstairs into the living room where the Sewing Circle was working, scaring twenty-five wonderful ladies with her cries as she clung to her mother, sobbing, --

"A ghost! A ghost! I saw him, all black; and he snarled at me, and my doll is gone! What should I do? Oh, what should I do?"

There was a lot of confusion because all the women were talking at the same time; and since none of them knew anything about the monkey, they all agreed that Nelly was a silly child who had made a big deal out of nothing. She cried loudly and kept saying to her mother,--

"Go and take a look; it's in my doll's bed—I found it there, and sweet Maudie is gone."

"We will go and see," said Mrs. Moses Merryweather, a plump older woman who managed her six daughters so well that they would never have dared to cry even if ten monkeys had suddenly appeared in front of them.

Miss Hetty Bumpus, a tall, thin single woman with a sharp eye and a pointed nose, went with her; but at the door to the dining room, both stopped short, and after one glance came rushing back, calling out together,--

"Mrs. Brown, your dinner is ruined! A terrible beast has messed it all up!"

Then twenty-five excited women rushed into the hall to see Jocko sitting on the big cake in the center of the table, his feet covered in cream from the spilled pitcher, while all around were the remnants of custards, tarts, biscuits, and sauce, not to mention neatly folded napkins made into haystacks, spoons, knives, and forks scattered on the floor, and the finest silver teapot in the fireplace.

While Nelly shared her story and the ladies asked her questions and comforted her, that naughty monkey had dashed downstairs and was having a great time all by himself. He was just scooping the jelly out of a tart when they interrupted him; knowing he'd get into more trouble if he stuck around, he smoothly walked down the messed-up table and disappeared out the window, taking the silver tea-strainer with him to play with.

The ladies didn’t have dinner that night; and poor Mrs. Brown sent a note to Aunt Jane, sharing the sad news, and mentioning that Nelly was feeling quite unwell from the shock and the loss of dear Maud Mabel Rose Matilda, who drowned in the water pitcher and is now ruined forever.

"John is going to go after that guy tomorrow and bring him back to take this awful monkey away. I can't stand living with him for a week; he's going to cost me a fortune and wear us all out," said Aunt Jane, after Jocko was safely locked up in the cellar, following the chaos of six boys chasing him all over the neighborhood before they finally caught him.

Neddy was more than happy to let him leave; but John was spared his trip because the next morning, poor Jocko was found dead in a trap, where his curious head had poked in to see what the cheese tasted like.

So he was buried by the river, and everyone felt a lot better; the man never returned, believing Jocko was dead when he left him. But he hadn’t lived in vain; after this challenging day, mischievous Neddy acted much better, and Aunt Jane could always soothe his playful spirit by saying, as her finger pointed to a little collar and chain hanging on the wall,--

"If you want to be like mischievous Jocko, just say it, and I'll tie you up. One monkey is enough for this family."

IV.

The Jumping Shoes.

Once there was a little girl named Kitty who never wanted to do what people asked her. She would say "I won't" and "I can't," and she didn’t happily run to help like other polite kids do.

One day her mom gave her a new pair of shoes; and after some fuss about putting them on, Kitty said, as she lay kicking on the floor,--

"I wish these were seven-league boots, like Jack the Giant Killer's; then it would be easy to run errands all the time. Now, I hate to keep walking, and I don’t like new shoes, and I won’t move an inch."

Just as she finished saying that, the shoes jumped, and put her on her feet so quickly that it startled all the mischief out of her. She stood there staring at these strange shoes; the shiny buttons on them seemed to blink at her like eyes, while the heels tapped a kind of tune on the floor. Before she could even move, her mother called from the next room,--

"Kitty, go tell the cook to make a pie for dinner; I forgot it."

"I don’t want to," Kitty started, whining like always.

But hardly had she finished speaking when the shoes jumped once and took her downstairs, through the hall, and dropped her at the kitchen door. She was out of breath, but she delivered the message and turned around, trying to see if the shoes would let her walk at all. They moved well until she wanted to turn into the china cupboard where the cake was. She wasn’t allowed to touch it, but she loved to sneak a piece whenever she could. Now she discovered that her feet were stuck to the floor and couldn’t be moved until her father, passing by the nearby window, said,--

"You'll have time to go to the post office before school and pick up my letters."

"I can't," Kitty started to say; but she realized she could, because off went the shoes, out of the house in a leap, and she dashed down the street so quickly that the maid chasing after her with her hat couldn't catch up.

"I can't stop!" Kitty shouted, and she didn't until the shoes brought her right into the office.

"What's the rush today?" asked the man, noticing her without a hat, all flushed and out of breath, her face scrunched up as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

"I won’t tell anyone about these awful shoes, and I’ll take them off as soon as I get home. I hope they’ll go back slowly, or people will think I’m crazy," Kitty said to herself as she picked up the letters and left.

The shoes walked pleasantly until she reached the bridge; there, she wanted to pause and watch some boys in a boat, forgetting about school and her father's letters. But the shoes wouldn't stop, even though she tried to make them, holding onto the railing as tight as possible. Her feet kept moving; and when she sat down, they still pulled her along so steadily that she had to keep going, and she stood up feeling that there was something really odd about these shoes. The moment she stopped resisting, everything went smoothly, and she got home right on time.

"I won't wear these awful things for another second," said Kitty, sitting on the doorstep and trying to unbutton the shoes.

But she couldn't move a single button, even though she turned red and got angry trying to do it.

"Time for school; hurry up, little girl," called mom from upstairs, as the clock struck nine.

"I'm not doing it!" said Kitty, crossly.

But she did; those magic shoes danced her away and brought her to her desk in five minutes.

"Well, I'm not late; that's one good thing," she thought, wishing she had arrived in a good mood, and not been rushed off without any lunch.

Her legs were so tired from all the jumping that she was happy to just sit still; and that made the teacher happy, because usually she was restless the whole lesson. But during recess, she got into trouble again; one of the kids knocked down the corn-cob house she had built, which made her really angry.

"Now, I'll kick yours down and see how you like that, Dolly."

Up went her foot, but it didn’t come down; it stayed in the air, and there she stood looking like she was about to dance. The children laughed at her, and she couldn’t do anything until she said to Dolly in a big hurry,--

"Don’t worry about it; if you didn’t intend to, I’ll let it go."

Then the foot came down, and Kitty felt so happy about it that she tried to be nice, worried about some new trick those awful shoes might pull. She started to understand how they worked and thought she would see if she had any control over them. So, when one of the kids wanted his ball that had bounced over the hedge, she said kindly,--

"Maybe I can get that for you, Willy."

And she jumped over as easily as if she were a rubber ball.

"How could you do that?" the boys exclaimed, clearly surprised; none of them would even think about attempting such a high jump.

Kitty laughed and started dancing, feeling happy and proud to discover that the shoes had a good side after all. The way she twirled and skipped, with such pretty steps and light little jumps, was delightful to watch; it seemed like her feet were enchanted and moved on their own. The little girls were mesmerized and tried to copy her, but no one could, so they formed a circle around her, watching her dance until the bell rang, and then they all rushed in to share what they saw.

Kitty said it was her new shoes, and never explained how strangely they were behaving, hoping to have fun now. But she was wrong.

On her way home, she wanted to stop and check out her friend Bell's new doll; but when she reached the gate, her feet wouldn't move, and she had to put aside her desires and keep going, just like mom had always told her to do.

"Go grab a nice little bowl of strawberries for dinner," her sister said as she walked in.

"I'm too ti--" There was no time to finish, because the shoes landed her right in the middle of the strawberry patch in one leap.

"I might as well be a grasshopper if I'm going to jump around like this," she said, forgetting to feel exhausted in the lovely garden, with the robins picking berries nearby and a cool breeze rustling the leaves to reveal where the ripest and reddest ones were hidden.

The small plate was quickly filled, and she wanted to stay and eat a few, warm and sweet from the vines; but the bell rang, and off she went, over the woodpile, across the porch, and into the dining room before she had even finished half of the berry in her mouth.

"Look how this child is running around today!" said her mother. "It's so nice to have such a speedy little errand-girl that I’m going to ask her to take some packages to my needy friends this afternoon."

"Oh, come on! I really hate dragging around these old clothes, bottles, and baskets of cold food. Do I have to?" Kitty sighed sadly, while her shoes tapped on the floor under the table, as if to remind her that she had to, whether she wanted to or not.

"It would be nice and thoughtful, and I would appreciate it a lot. But you can decide what you want to do. I'm really tired, and someone has to go; the little Bryan baby is sick and needs what I'm sending," said Mom, looking let down.

Kitty sat quietly and seriously for a while, and no one said anything to her. She was deciding whether she wanted to go along nicely or be tossed around like a grasshopper against her wishes. Once dinner was over, she said in a cheerful voice,--

"I'll go, Mom; and when all the errands are done, can I come back through Fairyland, as we call the little grove where the tall ferns grow?"

"Of course, sweetheart; when you help me out, it makes me happy to make you happy."

"I'm happy I chose to be kind; now I'm going to have a great time," Kitty said to herself as she walked away with a basket in one hand, a bundle in the other, and some money in her pocket for a poor old woman who needed assistance.

The shoes moved silently and seemed to know exactly where to stop. The mother of the sick baby thanked her for the soft little nightgowns; the girl with a limp smiled when she saw the books; the hungry kids gathered around the basket of food, like little birds ready to be fed; and the old woman gave her a beautiful pink shell that her son brought back from the sea.

When all the errands were done, Kitty skipped off to Fairyland, feeling really happy, just like people do when they've done kind things. It was a beautiful place; the ferns formed green arches tall enough for little girls to sit under, and the ground was covered with pretty green moss and wildflowers. Birds flew around in the pines, squirrels chattered in the oaks, butterflies floated here and there, and from the nearby pond came the croak of frogs lounging on the mossy stones.

"I wonder if my shoes will let me take a break; it’s so cool here, and I’m really tired," said Kitty, as she arrived at a cozy spot at the base of a tree.

The words had barely left her lips when her legs gave out, and she found herself sitting on a cushion of moss, like the queen of the forest on her throne. Something landed nearby with a thump, and looking down, she noticed a big black cricket with a rigid tail, staring up at her with curiosity.

"Bless my heart! I thought you were a relative of my cousin Grasshopper. You hopped down the hill just like him; so I stopped to say, How are you doing?" said the cricket, in its creaky voice.

"I'm not a grasshopper; but today I'm wearing fairy shoes, and I can do many things I never could before," replied Kitty, quite surprised that she could understand what the cricket was saying.

"It’s midsummer day, and fairies can pull whatever tricks they want. If you didn’t have those shoes on, you wouldn’t understand what I’m saying. Listen and hear those squirrels chatting, along with the birds and the ants down here. Take advantage of this moment; because at sunset, your shoes will stop skipping, and the fun will be done."

While the cricket chirped, Kitty heard all kinds of little voices, singing, laughing, and chatting in the most cheerful way, and understood every word they said. The squirrels called to each other as they dashed around,--

"Here’s a nut, there’s a nut;

Hide it away quickly,

In a hole, beneath leaves,

To munch on some winter day.

Acorns are sweet and plentiful,

We’ll gather them all:

Skip and scamper happily

Until the last ones fall."

 

The birds were singing softly,--

"Rock-a-bye, babies,

Your cradle is high;

Soft down your pillow,

Your curtain is the sky.

Dad will feed you,

While Mom sings,

And will keep our little ones

Safe under her warm wing."

 

And the ants were talking to each other as they rushed in and out of their tiny homes,--

"Work hard, neighbor!

Don’t stop to play;

Explore far and wide,

Collect all you can.

We’re never like

lazy butterflies,

But like busy bees,

hardworking and smart."

 

"Ants have always been really good, but butterflies are so much prettier," said Kitty, listening to the little voices with awe and delight.

"Hey! Hey!

Come down below,—

It's nice and cool

Out here in the pool;

On a lily pad floating

For a lovely green boat.

Here we sit and sing

In a cheerful circle;

Or play leapfrog,

In the funnest way.

Our games have started,

Come join the fun."

"Goodness! What could I do over there in the mud with those strange green frogs?" laughed Kitty, as this song was croaked at her.

"No, no, come and soar

Through the bright sky,

Or sip sweet nectar

From the rose's petal,

Or dance in the breeze,

Like gentle spirits.

Come on, come on;

It's our special day."

 

A group of beautiful yellow butterflies rose up from a wild rose bush and danced away, getting higher and higher until they disappeared in the light beyond the woods.

"That's better than leapfrog. I wish my skipping shoes would let me fly somewhere fun, instead of just taking me on errands and where I need to go all the time," said Kitty, watching the pretty things sparkle as they soared.

Just at that moment, a clock chimed, and the shoes zipped across the pool, the hill, and the road until they danced through the gate as the tea bell rang. Kitty entertained the family by sharing what she had done and seen, but no one believed the Fairyland part, and her father chuckled,---

"Go ahead, my dear, keep creating little stories, and soon you might be as famous as Hans Christian Andersen, whose books you love so much."

"The sun will set soon, and then my fun will be over; so I need to enjoy it while I can," thought Kitty, and she twirled around the lawn so beautifully that the whole family came to watch her.

"She dances so well that she's going to dance class," her mother said, happy with her little girl's cute moves.

Kitty was thrilled to hear that; she had been wanting to go for a long time, and she kept skipping as fast as she could to learn some of the graceful steps the shoes made before the day ended.

"Come on, sweetheart, it's time to stop and head up to your bath and bed. It’s been a long, hot day, and you’re exhausted; so get to sleep early, because Nursey wants to go out," said her mother, as the sun set behind the hills with a final bright glimmer, like the wink of a big, sleepy eye.

"Oh, come on, just a couple more minutes," Kitty started to say, but she took off like a shot; the shoes zoomed her upstairs so quickly that she crashed into old Nursey, and down she went, splashing water everywhere and scolding in such a hilarious way that it made Kitty laugh so hard she could barely lift her up again.

By the time she was ready to take her clothes off, the sun had completely set, and the shoes she took off were just regular ones again because midsummer day had ended. But Kitty never forgot the little lessons she had learned: she tried to run cheerfully when someone called her; she remembered the graceful steps and danced like a fairy; and best of all, she always loved the innocent and fascinating little creatures in the woods and fields. Whenever she was told she could go play with them, she hurried away almost as quickly as if she were still wearing her skipping shoes.

V.

COCKYLOO.

In the barnyard, a gray hen sat on her nest, feeling really happy because it was time for her eggs to hatch, and she hoped to have a nice batch of chicks. Soon enough, crack, crack, went the shells; "Peep, peep!" cried the chicks; "Cluck, cluck!" called the hen; and out came ten fluffy little chicks, one after the other, all ready to run around, eat, and scratch—because chickens aren't like babies and don't need any care at all.

There were eight little hens and two little roosters, one black and one as white as snow, with yellow legs, bright eyes, and a tiny red comb on his head. This was Cockyloo, the good chick; but the black one was named Peck and was a quarrelsome bad bird, as we shall see.

Mrs. Partlet, the mom, took great pride in her wonderful family; all eight of her little daughters were white and very cute. She took them out to the farmyard, clucking and scratching around busily; they were all hungry and ran chirping around her, eager to pick up the worms and seeds she found for them. Cocky quickly started helping to care for his sisters, and whenever he found a nice piece of corn or a fat bug, he would step back and let little Downy or Snowball have it. But Peck would rush in, push them aside, and gobble up the food greedily. He chased them away from the pan where the meal was and picked the fluff off their necks if they tried to get a bite. His mom scolded him when the little ones ran to hide under her wings, but he didn’t care and was quite naughty. Cocky began to crow when he was very young, and had such a beautiful voice that people loved to hear his loud, clear "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" early in the morning; he woke up before the sun and started singing. Peck often complained about being woken up at dawn because he was lazy, but the hens got up eagerly, happy to leave the hen-house.

The father rooster had been killed by a dog, so they made Cocky the king of the farmyard, and Peck was really jealous of him.

"I came out of the shell first, and I’m the oldest, so I should be king," he said.

"But we don't like you because you're selfish, grumpy, and lazy. We want Cocky; he's so upbeat, friendly, and courageous. He'll be an amazing bird, and he has to be our king," the hens replied; and Peck had to be careful, or they would have ripped every feather out of his little tail.

He decided to cause some trouble for his good brother and bothered him as much as he could. One day, while Cocky was swinging with three of his sisters on a bush that hung over the stream, Peck asked a dumb donkey eating nearby to come over and step on the bush. The donkey did it, and the branch snapped, sending the poor chicks splashing into the water, with all but Cocky drowning. He managed to fly across and was saved. Little Hop, Chirp, and Downy floated down the stream like balls of white foam and were never seen again. All the hens mourned for them and put a black feather in their heads to show how sorry they were. Mama Partlet was heartbroken to lose three darlings at once; but Cocky comforted her and never revealed how it happened because he was embarrassed to let people know what a bad bird Peck was.

A butterfly witnessed everything and told Granny Cockletop about it; the hens were so furious that they kicked Peck out of the barnyard, forcing him to live alone in the woods. He claimed he didn't care, but deep down he was very unhappy and often peeked into the nice field where the chickens scratched and chatted together. He didn't dare show himself, knowing they would force him out. But kind Cocky spotted him and would bring some tasty treat, sneaking through the fence into the woods, saying,--

"Poor brother, I'm really sorry for you. I'll come over to hang out and share the latest updates."

Now in this woods lived a fox, and he had been planning to eat Peck as soon as he was fat; for he missed the good corn and meal he used to have and grew very thin living on grasshoppers and berries. While he waited, the sneaky guy made friends with Peck, even though the bird knew that foxes ate hens.

"I'm not scared, and I don't buy into old Granny Cockletop's stories. I can handle myself, I suppose," he said, and continued playing with the fox, who got him to spill all the details about the hen-house—how the door was secured, where the fat chickens roosted, and what time they went to sleep—so that he could sneak in and grab a nice dinner later. Silly Peck never realized the trouble he was causing and just laughed when Cocky said,—

"You'll regret it if you mess with the fox. He's not a good guy, so be cautious, sleep on a high branch, and steer clear of him, just like I do."

Cocky was big and heavy, and the fox wanted to eat him, but never could because he smartly ran home whenever he spotted the sneaky guy hiding in the woods. This made Peck upset, since he wanted his brother to stick around and play. So one day, when Cocky ran off right in the middle of a fun game, Peck said to the fox,--

"Listen, if you want to catch that guy, I'll tell you how. He promised to bring me some food tonight when everyone else is settling down. He'll hide and won’t get locked up; then, when those cranky old hens are asleep, he’ll cluck softly, and I can go in and take as much as I want from the pan. You should hide on top of the henhouse; while he’s talking to me, you can jump on him. Then I’ll be the only rooster here, and they’ll have to make me king."

"Sounds good," said the fox, really happy with the plan, and very glad that Peck had a chance to get fatter.

So when night fell, Peck snuck through the broken fence and waited until he heard the signal. Good Cocky had saved some nice scraps from his own dinner and put them in a paper bag hidden under a bush. He laid them out in the barnyard and called out; Peck rushed in to eat them, not even pausing to say, "Thank you."

Cocky chatted casually until a brief rain shower started.

"Peck, sweetie, cover yourself with this nice thick paper; then you'll stay dry and can keep eating. I'll go stand under that burdock leaf and wait until you're finished," said Cocky; and Peck was too busy devouring the food to remember anything else.

Now the fox had just climbed up onto the hen-house roof, and when he looked down, there was just enough light to see a white thing moving around.

"Ah, ha! That's Cockyloo; now for a great dinner!" And with a leap, he grabbed Peck by the head before he could clarify the mistake.

One squawk, and the mischievous bird was dead; but even though the paper fell off and the fox realized what he had done, it was too late, and he started to eat Peck, while Cocky flew up into a tree and crowed so loudly that the farmer rushed out with his gun and shot the fox before he could squeeze through the hole in the fence with the bird in his mouth.

After that, the hens felt safe since there were no more foxes. When they heard about Peck, they didn’t mourn at all; instead, they liked Cocky even more and lived happily together, without any worries.

King Cockyloo became an impressive bird—pure white, with a tall red comb on his head, long spurs on his yellow legs, plenty of beautiful feathers in his tail, and eyes that sparkled like diamonds. His crow was so loud that it could be heard all over the neighborhood, and people would say, "Hey! Listen to Farmer Hunt's rooster crow. Isn't it a lovely sound to wake us at dawn?" All the other roosters would respond to him, and there was a great morning concert every day.

He was a great brother, taking care of his five little sisters all around the field, feeding, watching over, and entertaining them; because mom was injured now, and couldn't move far from the yard. It was a nice sight to see Cocky run home with a worm in his beak or a tasty berry, and hand it to his mom, who was very proud of her handsome son. Even old Granny Cockletop, who complained about everything, liked him; and often said, as the hens were scratching in the dirt,--

"A great bird, my loves, a really great bird, and I have no doubt he will do something amazing before he passes away."

She was right for once, and this is what he did.

One day, the farmer had to leave and stay out all night, leaving the old lady alone with two boys. They weren't scared because they had a gun and were eager for a chance to use it. Meanwhile, the farmer had quite a bit of money in the house, and some criminals were aware of it, so they waited for him to leave so they could steal it. Cocky was messing around in the field when he heard voices coming from behind the wall, and peeking through a hole, he saw two scruffy men hiding there.

"At midnight tonight, when everyone is asleep, we'll sneak in through the kitchen window and grab the money. You’ll keep watch outside and whistle if anyone approaches while I look for the box where the farmer keeps it," said one man.

"You don't need to be afraid; there’s no dog, and no one to wake up the family, so we’re totally safe," said the other man; and then they both went to sleep until night came.

Cocky was really upset and didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell the old lady about it since he could only cluck and crow, and she wouldn't understand that language. So he spent the whole day looking serious, refusing to chase grasshoppers, play hide-and-seek under the big burdock leaves, or hunt crickets with his sisters. At sunset, instead of going into the hen-house with everyone else, he flew up to the roof of the shed over the kitchen and sat there in the cold, ready to scare off any robbers with a loud crow, since that was all he could think to do.

At midnight, the men crept along; one stopped outside while the other went in. After a moment, he handed a basket of silver out and went back for the money. Just as he was sneaking up with the box, Cocky let out a loud, long crow, which scared the robbers and woke the boys. The man with the basket ran away so fast that he fell into a well; the other was about to climb out the window when Cocky swooped down, pecked at his eyes, and flapped his wings in his face. This made him turn to run in another direction, where he ran into the boys, who shot at him and hit him in the legs. The old lady popped her head out of the upper window, rang the dinner bell, and shouted "Fire! Fire!" so loudly that it woke the neighbors, who rushed over to see what the commotion was.

They pulled one man out of the well and picked up the injured one, and carried both of them off to jail.

"Who caught them?" asked the crowd.

"We did," shouted the boys, feeling really proud of what they'd accomplished; "but we wouldn't have woken up if our good Cocky hadn't crowed and scared the thieves away. He deserves half the credit, since this is the second time he's caught a thief."

So Cocky was brought in, petted, and called a great guy; and his family was so proud of him they bragged about it for weeks afterward.

When the robbers were tried, it turned out they were the ones who had robbed the bank and taken a lot of money, so everyone was happy to see them locked up for twenty years. It created quite a buzz, and people would visit Cocky and talk about how he helped catch the men; they said he was so brave and handsome, in the end,--

"We want a new weather vane on our courthouse, and instead of an arrow, let’s have a rooster; and he should look like this handsome guy."

"Yeah, yeah," shouted the young people, quite happy; they believed Cocky should be honored in some way.

So, a picture was taken, and Cocky stood perfectly still, with his bright eye on the man. Then a similar one was made of brass and placed high up on the courthouse, where everyone could see the magnificent bird shining like gold, spinning around to show which way the wind was blowing. The kids never got tired of admiring him, and all the hens and chicks went in a procession one moonlit night to see it—yes, even Mama Partlet and Granny Cockletop, even though one was lame and the other very old, so proud were they of the great honor given to King Cockyloo.

This wasn't the end of his good deeds; the last one was the best of all, even though it cost him his life. He ruled for several years and maintained order in his kingdom; no one would harm him, while many of the other birds were taken for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. But he did die eventually; and even then he remained good and brave, as you will see.

One of the boys wanted to smoke a pipe, so he went behind the chicken coop to keep it a secret. He thought he heard his dad coming and quickly hid the pipe under the house. There was some straw and dry leaves lying around, and they caught fire, making the place blaze up. The boy ran away when he saw the chaos he had caused, and the fire spread quickly before the cries of the poor hens brought people to help. The door was locked and couldn't be opened because the key was in the naughty boy's pocket. So, the farmer grabbed an axe and chopped down the wall, letting the poor birds escape, squawking and covered in smoke.

"Where's Cocky?" shouted the other boy, as he counted the hens and realized the king of the farmyard was missing.

"Burnt up, I’m afraid," said the farmer, who was splashing water on the flames.

Alas! yes, he was; for when the fire was out they found good old Cocky sitting on a nest, with his wide wings spread over some little chicks whose mother had left them. They were too small to run away, and sat chirping sadly till Cocky covered and kept them safe, though the smoke choked him to death.

Every one was very sorry; and the children gave the good bird a nice funeral, and buried him in the middle of the field, with a green mound over him, and a white stone, on which was written,--

Here rests the bravest rooster that ever crowed:

We mourn for him with genuine sorrow.

Now we will never hear his music at dawn again,

Waking the world like a clear, shrill trumpet.

The hens lower their heads, and the chicks sadly peep;

The boys look serious, and the girls all cry.

Goodbye, dear Cocky: sleep and rest.

With grass and daisies on your loyal chest;

And when you wake, brave bird, so good and true,

Spread your white wings and crow, "Cock-a-doodle-doo."

VI.

ROSY'S ADVENTURE.

Rosy was a sweet little girl who lived with her mom in a small house in the woods. They were really poor because her dad had left to search for gold and never returned, so they had to work hard to get food and clothes. Her mom spun yarn when she could, but she often felt sick, and Rosy did everything she could to help. She milked the red cow, fed the chickens, tended the garden, and went to town to sell the yarn and eggs.

She was kind and sweet, and everyone loved her; but the neighbors were all struggling financially and could do little to help the girl. So, when her mother finally passed away, they had to sell the cow, the chickens, and the house to pay the doctor and settle the debts. Then Rosy was left all alone, with no mother, no home, and no money for clothes or meals.

"What are you going to do?" the people asked, feeling really sorry for her.

"I'll go find my dad," Rosy said boldly.

"But he is far away, and you don't know exactly where he is, up in the mountains. Stay with us and spin on your little wheel, and we will buy the yarn and take care of you, dear little girl," said the kind people.

"No, I have to go; my mom told me to, and my dad will be happy to see me. I'm not scared because everyone is nice to me," said Rosy, with appreciation.

Then the people gave her a warm red cloak, a basket with a little loaf and a bottle of milk in it, and some coins to buy more food when the bread was gone. They all kissed her and wished her good luck, and she walked off through the woods to find her dad.

For a few days, she was doing okay because the woodcutters were nice, letting her sleep in their huts and giving her food. But eventually, she reached isolated areas with no houses, and that made her scared. She started climbing trees to sleep and had to eat berries and leaves, just like the Children in the Wood.

She built a fire at night to keep wild animals away; and if she encountered other travelers, she was so young and innocent that no one could bring themselves to harm her. She was kind to everyone she met, so all the little creatures became her friends, as we will see.

One day, while she was relaxing by a river, she spotted a small fish on the shore, almost dead from lack of water.

"Poor thing! Go and be happy again," she said, gently picking him up and dropping him into the nice cool river.

"Thank you, dear child; I won't forget, and I’ll help you someday," said the fish after taking a good drink and feeling better.

"Why, how can a little fish help someone as great as me?" laughed Rosy.

"Just wait and see," said the fish as he swam off with a flick of his tiny tail.

Rosy continued on her path and forgot all about it. But she never forgot to be kind; and soon after, while searching the grass for strawberries, she came across a field mouse with a broken leg.

"Please help me get to my nest, or my babies will go hungry," cried the poor thing.

"Sure, I will; and I'll bring these berries so you can stay quiet until your leg gets better and have something to eat."

Rosy gently picked up the mouse in her small hand and bandaged its broken leg with a spearmint leaf and a blade of grass. Then she took it to a nest under the roots of an old tree, where four baby mice were squeaking sadly for their mother. She made a soft bed for the injured mouse using thistledown and placed all the berries and seeds she could find within easy reach, along with an acorn cup filled with water from the spring, to make them more comfortable.

"Thank you for all your kindness, little Rosy. I’ll repay you for it someday," said the mouse when she finished.

"I'm afraid you're not big enough to do much," Rosy replied, as she ran off to continue her journey.

"Just wait and see," shouted the mouse; and all the little ones squeaked, as if they were saying the same thing.

Some time later, as Rosy lay in a tree waiting for the sun to rise, she heard a loud buzzing nearby and saw a fly caught in a cobweb that stretched from one branch to another. The big spider was trying to wrap him up, and the poor fly was struggling to escape before his legs and wings became useless.

Rosy raised her finger and brushed the web aside, causing the spider to quickly scurry away and hide under the leaves. Meanwhile, the cheerful fly rested on Rosy's hand, grooming its wings and buzzing with such joy that it sounded like a tiny trumpet.

"You've saved my life, and I'll save yours if I can," said the fly, flashing his bright eye at Rosy.

"You silly thing, you can't help me," Rosy replied as she climbed down while the fly buzzed off, saying, like the mouse and fish,--

"Just wait and see; just wait and see."

Rosy kept walking until she finally reached the sea. The mountains were on the other side, but how was she supposed to cross the wide water? There were no boats around, and she didn’t have any money to rent one even if there were; so she sat down on the shore, feeling very tired and sad, and shed a few big tears as salty as the sea.

"Hey there!" called a cheerful voice nearby; and the fish popped up its head.

Rosy rushed over to find out what he needed.

"I've come to help you across the water," said the fish.

"How can you help me when I need a ship and someone to guide me?" replied Rosy.

"I'll just call my friend the whale, and he will take you across better than a ship because he won't get wrecked. Don't worry if he spouts and splashes around a lot; he's just playing, so you don’t need to be scared."

Down dived the little fish, and Rosy waited to see what would happen; she didn’t believe such a tiny creature could actually bring a whale to help her.

Presently, what looked like a small island floated through the sea; and turning around, so that its tail touched the shore, the whale said in a booming voice that made her jump,--

"Come on in, little girl, and hold on tight. I'll take you anywhere you want."

It was a pretty slippery bridge, and Rosy felt quite scared of this big, weird boat; but she made it across safely and held on tight. Then, with a roll and a plunge, the whale took off, spraying water from two fountains, while his tail steered him like a ship’s rudder.

Rosy loved it and gazed down into the deep sea, where all kinds of strange and beautiful things could be seen. Huge fish came to check her out; dolphins swam nearby to entertain her; the lovely nautilus glided by in its clear shell; and porpoises made her laugh with their playful antics. Mermaids brought her pearls and red coral to wear, sea-apples to snack on, and at night, they sang her to sleep with their sweet lullabies.

So she had a really enjoyable trip, and jumped ashore with lots of thanks to the amazing whale, who made a fantastic spout, and swam away.

Then Rosy traveled on until she reached a desert. Hundreds of miles of hot sand, with no trees, streams, or houses.

"I can’t go that way," she said; "I’d starve, and I’d soon be exhausted walking in that hot sand. What am I supposed to do?"

"Quee, quee!

Wait and see:

You treated me well;

So here I come,

From my little place,

To help you happily,"

said a friendly voice; and there was the mouse, looking at her with its bright eyes full of gratitude.

"Why, you sweet little thing, I'm really happy to see you; but I know you can't help me across this desert," said Rosy, petting its soft back.

"That's simple," replied the mouse, rubbing its paws quickly. "I’ll just call my friend the lion; he lives here, and he'll be happy to take you across."

"Oh, I'm afraid he’d rather eat me. How dare you call that fierce beast?" Rosy exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

"I rescued him from a net once, and he promised to help me. He’s a noble creature, and he’ll keep his promise."

Then the mouse sang in its high-pitched little voice, --

"Oh lion, mighty,

Come across the sand,

And help me now, please!

Here's a little girl,

Who wants to get by;

Please help her on her way."

 

In an instant, a loud roar echoed, and a magnificent yellow lion, with piercing eyes and a long mane, came running across the sand to greet them.

"What can I do for you, little buddy?" he asked, looking at the mouse, who wasn't scared at all, even though Rosy was hiding behind a rock, expecting to be eaten any second.

Mousie told him, and the friendly lion replied kindly,--

"I'll take the kid with me. Come on, sweetie; climb on my back and hold on tight to my mane, because I’m a fast horse, and you could fall off."

Then he crouched down like a big cat, and Rosy climbed on, because he was so kind that she didn’t feel scared of him; and off they went, racing over the sand until her hair whipped in the wind. Once she caught her breath, she thought it was a blast to zoom along while other lions and tigers glared at her, but didn’t dare touch her; because this lion was the king of all, and she was completely safe. They passed a line of camels with loads on their backs, and the people traveling with them wondered what strange thing was riding that impressive lion. It looked like a really big monkey in a red cloak, but it moved so fast that they never realized it was a little girl.

"How happy I am that I was nice to the mouse; because if that sweet little creature hadn't helped me, I never would have made it across this desert," said Rosy, as the lion paused for a moment to rest himself.

"And if the mouse hadn't chewed me free from the net, I would have never answered her call. You see, small creatures can overcome larger ones and win them over with kindness," replied the lion.

Then they took off again, faster than ever, until they reached the green countryside. Rosy thanked the kind creature, and he ran back; because if anyone saw him, they would try to catch him.

"Now I just have to climb these mountains and find Dad," thought Rosy, as she looked at the huge hills ahead of her, with winding, steep paths leading to the top; in the distance, she could see wisps of smoke rising from the huts where the men lived and mined for gold. She set off confidently but chose the wrong path, and after climbing for a while, discovered that the trail ended in rocks she couldn't get past. She was really tired and hungry because her food was gone, and there were no houses in this wild area. Night was approaching, and it was so cold that she was scared she'd freeze before morning, but she didn’t dare move on in case she fell into a steep hole and got hurt. Feeling very discouraged, she lay down on the moss and cried a little; then she tried to sleep, but something kept buzzing in her ear. When she looked closely, she saw a fly dancing around on the moss, as if eager to get her attention with its song.

"Rosy, my dear,

Don't cry,--I'm here

To help you as much as I can.

I'm just a fly,

But you'll see that I

Will keep my promise like a man."

Rosy couldn't help but laugh when she heard the energetic little guy talk as if he could achieve amazing things; but she was really happy to see him and hear his cheerful song, so she held out her finger, and while he sat there, she shared all her troubles with him.

"Bless your heart! My friend the eagle will take you straight up the mountains and drop you off at your dad's door," shouted the fly, and he was off with a flick of his delicate wings, because he meant what he said.

Rosy was excited for her new horse and wasn’t scared at all after encountering the whale and the lion; so when a huge eagle swooped down and landed nearby, she just looked at its sharp claws, big eyes, and curved beak as casually as if it had been a tiny robin.

He admired her courage and said gently in his gruff voice,--

"Hop up, little girl, and sit among my feathers. Hold me tightly around the neck, or you might get dizzy and fall."

Rosy curled up among the soft gray feathers and wrapped both arms around his neck; then they took off, soaring higher and higher until the trees looked like tiny blades of grass far below. At first, it was really cold, and Rosy snuggled deeper into her feather bed; but as they got closer to the sun, it warmed up, and she peeked out to see the huts sitting in a green area at the top of the mountain.

"Here we are. You'll see all the men are down in the mine right now. They won't come up until morning, so you'll have to wait for your dad. Goodbye; good luck, my dear." And the eagle soared away, higher still, to its nest among the clouds.

It was night now, but fires were burning in all the houses; so Rosy went from hut to hut looking for her father's, hoping to rest while she waited. Finally, in one hut, she saw a picture of a cute little girl hanging on the wall, and underneath it read, "My Rosy." That’s when she realized this was the right place. She had some supper, added more wood to the fire, and went to bed, wanting to be refreshed when her father arrived in the morning.

While she slept, a storm broke out—thunder rumbled and lightning struck, the wind blew fiercely, and rain poured down—but Rosy didn’t wake up until dawn, when she heard men shouting outside—

"Run, run! The river's rising! We're all going to drown!"

Rosy rushed out to see what was going on, even though the wind almost knocked her over; she discovered that all the rain had caused the river to overflow, starting to wash away the banks.

"What should I do? What should I do?" cried Rosy, watching the men rush around like ants, getting their bags of gold ready to carry off before the water swept them away if it turned into a flood.

As if in response to her call, Rosy heard a voice say nearby,--

"Splash, dash!

Rumble and crash!

Here come the cheerful beavers;

Look at what they do,

Rosy, for you,

Because you helped me one day."

And there in the water was the little fish swimming around, while a group of beavers started to pile up dirt and stones to create a high bank to hold back the river. They worked tirelessly, digging and stacking with their teeth and claws, and slapping the ground hard with their strange tails like shovels!

Rosy and the men watched them work, relieved to be safe while the storm passed; by the time the dam was finished, all danger was gone. Rosy gazed into the faces of the tough men, hoping her father was among them, and was just about to ask about him when a loud shout erupted, and everyone started running towards the pit hole, saying,--

"The sand has fallen in! The poor guys will be buried! How can we get them out? How can we get them out?"

Rosy ran too, feeling like her heart would break; her father was down in the mine and would die soon if he didn't get air. The men dug as hard as they could, but it was a long process, and they worried they wouldn't make it in time.

Suddenly, hundreds of moles rushed in and started digging into the ground, creating lots of holes for air to get in; they know how to construct tunnels underground better than people do. Everyone was so surprised that they paused to watch; the dirt flew everywhere like rain as the busy little creatures scratched and burrowed as if they were building an underground railway.

"What does it mean?" said the men. "They work faster and better than we do; but who sent them? Is this odd little girl a fairy?"

Before Rosy could say anything, everyone heard a high-pitched, tiny voice singing,--

"They come when I call them;

And even though they're small,

They'll clear the way:

I never forget;

We’ll save them yet,

For the love of dear Rosy."

Then everyone saw a small gray mouse sitting on a rock, waving her tail around and using her little paw to point out where the moles should dig.

The men were laughing, and Rosy was explaining who she was when they heard a cry from the pit, and they noticed that the way was clear for them to pull the trapped men up. In a minute, they got ropes and soon had ten poor guys safely on the ground; pale and dirty, but all alive and all shouting as if they were crazy,--

"Tom's got it! Tom's got it! Hooray for Tom!"

"What is it?" yelled the others; and then they saw Tom come up with the largest chunk of gold ever found in the mountains.

Everyone was happy for Tom's luck; he was a good man who had worked hard for a long time, had been sick, and couldn't return to his wife and child. When he saw Rosy, he dropped the lump and picked her up, saying,--

"My little girl! She's worth more than a million pounds of gold."

Then Rosy was really happy and went back to the hut, where she enjoyed telling her father all about her troubles and adventures. He cried when he heard that their poor mother had died before she could experience any of the good things that the gold would have bought them.

"We'll go away and be happy together in the nicest home I can find, and we'll never be apart again, my darling," said the father, kissing Rosy as she sat on his lap with her arms around his neck.

She was about to say something really sweet to comfort him when a fly landed on her arm and buzzed loudly,--

"Don’t push me away,

But listen to what I say:

Bad guys want the gold;

They’ll steal it tonight,

And you need to run;

So stay quiet, be busy, and be brave."

"I was worried someone would take my gold lump. I'll pack up right away, and we'll sneak off while the men are busy working; but I'm afraid we won't be quick enough to be safe if they notice we're gone and come after us," said Tom, stuffing his gold into a bag and looking very serious; some of the miners were reckless guys and might harm him for that big chunk.

But the fly sang again, -

"Come away with me,

And you'll see

What a clever little thing I am;

Because the road I reveal

No one can know,

Since it's up in the endless sky."

 

Then they followed Buzz to a quiet spot in the woods, and there were the eagle and his mate ready to take them away so quickly and so far that no one could keep up. Rosy and the bag of gold were placed on the mother eagle, while Tom sat on the king bird, and they took off to a big city where the little girl and her father lived happily together for the rest of their lives.

VII.

HOW THEY ESCAPED.

Two little boys sat on the fence carving arrows one nice day. One little boy said to the other little boy,--

"Let's do something fun."

"Alright. What should we do?"

"Let’s escape to the woods and go hunting."

"What should we hunt?"

"Bears and foxes."

"Mullin says there aren't any around here."

"Well, we can hunt squirrels and trap groundhogs."

"Haven't got any guns and traps."

"We've got our bows, and I found an old trap behind the barn."

"What's for dinner?"

"Here’s our lunch; and when we’re done with that, we can roast the squirrels and cook the fish on a stick. I know how to do it."

"Where will you get the fire?"

"Got matches in my pocket."

"I have a lot of things we could use. Let’s take a look."

And finally feeling satisfied, cautious Billy showed off his treasures, while daring Tommy did the same.

Besides the two knives, there were some strings, nails, matches, a piece of putty, fish hooks, and two really dirty handkerchiefs.

“Look, sir, that’s a great setup for hunters; and with the nice lunch basket Mrs. Mullin gave us, we can be all set for two or three days,” said Tommy, excited to get going.

"Where are we going to sleep?" asked Billy, who liked to be cozy both day and night.

"Oh, up in the trees or on beds of leaves, like the guys in our stories. If you're scared, just stay home; I'm going to have the time of my life." And Tommy stuffed the stuff back into his pockets as if there was no time to waste.

"Pooh! I'm not scared. Let's go!" And jumping down, Billy picked up his rod, feeling a bit embarrassed about all his questions.

No one was paying attention to them, and they could have sneaked away quietly; but to make sure the "running away" was okay, both of them sprinted down the road, jumped over a wall, and rushed into the woods as if a whole tribe of wild Indians were chasing them.

"Do you know the way?" Billy panted, when they finally paused to catch their breath.

"Yeah, it goes all the way up the mountain; but we should probably avoid it, or someone will spot us and send us back. We're going to be real hunters and have adventures, so we need to get lost and navigate by the sun and the stars," replied Tommy, who had read so many adventure books that his mind was a mix of Texas Rangers, African explorers, and Buffalo Bill, and he was eager to outshine them all.

"What are our moms going to say if we actually get lost?" asked Billy, always quick with a question.

"Mine doesn't complain. She lets me do whatever I want."

That was true; Tommy's poor mom was exhausted from trying to keep the energetic little guy in line and had grown accustomed to seeing him escape from all his troubles without too much damage.

"Mine will be scared; she’s always worried I’m going to get hurt, so I’m careful. But I guess I’ll take the chance and have some fun to talk about when we get home," said Billy, following Captain Tommy, who always led the way.

These eleven-year-old boys were staying with their moms at a farmhouse up in the mountains. After getting bored with the tame bears, the big barn, the trout stream, the thirty colts in the pasture, and the company of the few little girls and younger boys at the nearby hotel, these great kids wanted to break free and "rough it in the woods," just like the hunters did in their favorite stories.

Away they went, deeper and deeper into the vast forest that blanketed the mountainside. It was a lovely day in August; the air was cool and the landscape was lush and green, with numerous streams bubbling over the rocks or resting in brown pools beneath the ferns. Squirrels chattered and dashed around in the tall pines; occasionally, a gray rabbit hopped out of sight among the underbrush, or a unique bird swooped by. Here and there, blackberries flourished in the clearings, sassafras bushes were abundant, and black-birch bark was ready to chew.

"Don’t you think this is nice?" asked Tommy, finally stopping in a small valley where a noisy stream cascaded down the mountainside, and the pines sang overhead.

"Yeah, but I'm really hungry. Let's take a break and eat our lunch," said Billy, sitting down on a cushion of moss.

"You always want to be lounging around and resting," replied sturdy Tommy, who preferred to keep moving all the time.

He grabbed the fishing basket, which was slung over his shoulder by a strap, and opened it carefully; good Mrs. Mullin had put together a nice lunch of bread and butter, cake and peaches, along with a bottle of milk, and two large pickles slipped in secretly to please the boys.

Tommy's expression turned serious as he looked inside, seeing nothing but a box of worms for bait and an old jacket.

"Wow! We've got the wrong basket. This is Mullin's, and he's taken off with our food. He's going to be so angry!"

"Not as crazy as I am. Why didn’t you check? You’re always so eager to jump in. What are we going to do now without any food?" complained Billy, since losing his lunch was a huge disappointment for him.

"We're going to have to catch some fish and eat blackberries. Which one will you do, you old crybaby?" Tommy said, laughing at the other boy's gloomy expression.

"I'll go fishing; I'm too tired to look for berries. I don’t even like them." And Billy started to set up his line and bait his hook.

"Lucky we got the worms; you can eat them if you can't wait for fish," Tommy said, moving around to empty the basket and stack their few belongings in a pile. "There's a quiet pool down there; you should go fish there. I'll pick the berries and then show you how to find dinner in the woods. This is our camp, so hurry up and do your best."

Then Tommy hurried off to a nearby spot where he had seen the berries, while Billy found a cozy spot by the pool and sat there scowling at the water so angrily that it was surprising any trout even approached his hook. But the fat worms attracted several small ones, and he perked up at the thought of food. Tommy whistled as he picked, and in half an hour, he returned with two quarts of fresh berries and an armful of dry sticks for the fire.

"We'll have a great dinner, after all," he said, as the flames crackled up and the dry leaves gave off a nice smell.

"Got four, but I don't see how we're ever going to cook them; no frying pan," complained Billy, tossing down the four small trout he had half cleaned.

"Don't want any. Cook them on the coals, or toast them on a forked stick. I'll show you how," said cheerful Tommy, carving away and feeding his fire, trying to be as much like a real hunter as a small boy could be.

While he worked, Billy snacked on berries and longed for bread and butter. Finally, after a lot of effort, two of the trout were partially cooked and quickly devoured by the hungry boys. But they were nothing like the nice brown ones Mrs. Mullin gave them; despite Tommy's efforts, they kept falling into the ashes, and there was no salt to have with them. By the time the last ones were toasted, the young hunters were so starving they would have eaten anything, and not a single berry was left.

"I set the trap down there because I saw a hole among the vines, and I wouldn't be surprised if we caught a rabbit or something," Tommy said after polishing the last bone. "You go catch some more fish, and I'll check if I caught any old guy as he headed home for dinner."

Off ran Tommy; and the other boy walked slowly back to the stream, wishing with all his heart that he was at home eating sweet corn and berry pie.

The trout had clearly gone off to eat, because Billy didn't get a single bite; and he was just starting to doze off when a loud shout startled him so much that he fell into the brook up to his knees.

"I've got him! Come check this out! He's a bouncer," shouted Tommy from the berry bushes a little distance away.

Billy rushed out and ran as quickly as his wet boots would allow him to see what the prize was. He found Tommy dancing excitedly around a chubby gray animal, which was trying to free its paws from the trap and making a strange noise as it struggled.

"What is it?" Billy asked, quickly hiding behind a tree because the creature looked intimidating, and he was quite scared.

"A raccoon, I think, or a large woodchuck. Won't his fur make a great hat? I bet the other guys will regret not joining us," said Tommy, bouncing around, with no clue what to do with the animal.

"He'll bite. We should run away and wait until he’s dead," said Billy.

"Wish he’d get his head in, then I could take him away; but he does look fierce, so we’ll have to leave him for a bit and get him when we come back. But he’s really a beauty." And Tommy looked proudly at the bundle of gray fur scrambling in the sand.

"Can we ever eat him?" asked hungry Billy, eager for some fried crocodile if he could get it.

"If it's a raccoon, we can; but I'm not sure about woodchucks. The guys in my books don't seem to have caught any. He's nice and fat; we might try him once he's dead," said Tommy, who was more interested in the fur to show off than the best meal ever cooked.

The sound of a gun echoing through the woods gave Tommy a good idea,--

"Let's find the guy and get him to take out this dude; then we don’t have to wait, but can dress him right away and eat him too."

Off they went to the camp; and grabbing their things, the two hunters hurried in the direction of the sound, feeling happy to know that someone was nearby, as a couple of hours in the woods had made them a bit homesick.

They ran and climbed, and listened and shouted; but it wasn't until they had gone a long way up the mountain that they found the man, resting in an old hut left by the loggers. The leftovers of his dinner were spread out on the floor, and he lay there smoking and reading a newspaper, while his dog napped at his feet, next to a full game bag.

He looked surprised when two dirty, wet little boys suddenly showed up in front of him—one grinning happily, the other looking very gloomy and scared while the dog growled and stared at them like they were two rabbits.

"Hello!" said the man.

"Hello!" answered Tommy.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"Hunters," Tommy said.

"Had good luck?" The man laughed.

"Great! We caught a raccoon in our trap, and we want you to come and shoot it," replied Tommy, proudly.

"Really?" the man said, looking both interested and amused.

"No, but I think so."

"What's he like?"

Tommy described him and felt really let down when the man lay back down again, laughing again as he said, --

"It's a woodchuck; he's no good."

"But I want the skin."

"Then don't shoot him, let him die; that's better for the skin," said the man, who was tired and didn't want to stop for such lousy game.

All this time, Billy had been intently looking at the sandwiches, bread, and cheese on the floor while sniffing them, just like the dog was sniffing him.

"Want something to eat?" asked the man, noticing the hungry expression.

"I just do! We left our lunch, and I've only had two small trout and some old berries since breakfast," Billy replied, tears in his eyes and a hand on his stomach.

"Go ahead and eat; I'm finished and don't want any of it." The man picked up his paper, clearly relieved to be left alone.

It was fortunate that the dog had been fed, because in ten minutes the only thing left was the napkin; and the boys sat picking up the crumbs, feeling much refreshed, but still ready for more.

"Better head home, guys; it gets pretty cold on the mountain after sunset, and you're a long way from town," said the man, who had glanced at them over his newspaper from time to time and noticed, despite the dirt and tears, that they weren't farmer boys.

"We don’t live in town; we’re at Mullin’s, in the valley. No rush; we know the way, and we want to have some fun first. You seem to have done well," Tommy replied, glancing enviously from the gun to the game bag, which had a rabbit’s head and a squirrel’s tail hanging out of it.

"Sounds good, but I want a chance to take down the bear. People say there's one up here, and I'm after it because it kills the sheep and could hurt some of the kids around here," said the man, loading his gun with a serious look; he wanted to send the boys home.

Billy looked shocked, but Tommy's brown face lit up with happiness as he said eagerly,--

"I hope you catch him. I’d rather shoot a bear than any other animal except for a lion. We don’t have those around here, and bears are rare. Mullin said he hasn’t heard of one in a long time, so this must be a young one since they killed the big one two years ago."

That was true, and the man knew it. He didn’t really expect or want to encounter a bear, but he thought the idea of one would make the little guys head home immediately. When he found one of them unafraid, he laughed and said with a nod to Tommy,--

"If I had time, I’d take you with me and show you how to hunt; but this heavy friend of yours couldn’t handle it with us, and we can’t leave him alone, so go your own way. Just be careful not to climb any higher, because you’re definitely going to get hurt or lost among the rocks."

"Oh, come on, let's go! It's going to be so much fun, Billy! I know you'll love it. A real gun, a dog, and a hunter! Let's hurry up, and stop being such a wimp," Tommy yelled, eager to leave.

"I won’t! I’m tired, and I’m going home; you can go after your old bears if you want to. I don’t think much of hunting anyway and wish I hadn’t come," growled Billy, really annoyed at being left out, but he had no desire to scramble anymore.

"Can't stop. Bye. Head on home, and someday I'll come and take you out with me, little Leatherstocking," said the man, walking away with the beloved gun, dog, and bag, leaving Billy to ponder what he meant by that strange name, and Tommy to reassure himself with the promise made to him.

"Let's go see how old Chucky is doing," he said with a friendly smile, once the man disappeared.

"Not until I’m rested. I can get a good nap on this pile of hay; then we’ll head home before it gets late," replied lazy Billy, making himself comfortable on the rough bed the lumbermen had used.

"I just wish I had a boy with some energy; you're not much better than a girl," sighed Tommy, walking over to a pine tree where some squirrels appeared to be having a party, chattering and racing up and down with such excitement.

He practiced with his bow and shot all his arrows countless times in vain, as the lively animals never gave him a chance. He had better luck with a brown bird that perched in a bush and was struck directly in the chest with the sharpest arrow. The poor thing fluttered and fell, its blood staining the green leaves as it lay dying on the grass. Tommy was initially pleased; however, as he watched its bright eye lose its sparkle and its beautiful brown wings stop moving, he felt sorry that its happy little life was so cruelly cut short, and ashamed that his thoughtless fun had caused so much suffering.

"I'll never shoot another bird except for hawks after they've been after my chickens, and I won't brag about this one. It was so tame and trusted me, I felt really bad about killing it."

As he thought this, Tommy smoothed the ruffled feathers of the dead thrush and made a small grave under the pine. He buried it wrapped in green leaves and left it there where its mate could sing over it, and no rough hands would disturb its rest.

"I'll tell mom and she will understand; but I won't tell Billy. He’s such a greedy guy that he’ll say I should have kept the poor bird to eat," thought Tommy, as he went back to the hut and sat there, restringing his bow until Billy woke up, feeling much friendlier after his sleep.

They tried to track down the woodchuck but lost their way and wandered deeper into the vast forest until they reached a rocky area and couldn't go any further. They climbed up and fell down, turned back and took detours, checked the sun and realized it was getting late, chewed on sassafras bark and checkerberry leaves for dinner, and became more and more worried and exhausted as hours passed without seeing any end to the woods and rocks. Once or twice, they heard a hunter's gun in the distance, and they called out and attempted to find him.

Tommy yelled at Billy for not going with the man, who knew the area and was likely safe in the valley when the last faint shot rang out. Billy cried and blamed Tommy for suggesting they run away; both of them felt really homesick for their moms and their comfortable beds at Farmer Mullin's.

The sun went down, and they found themselves in a gloomy spot filled with rocks and burnt trees halfway up the mountain. They were so exhausted they could barely walk and desperately wanted to lie down anywhere to sleep. However, remembering the hunter's story about the bear, they were scared to do so until Tommy suggested climbing a tree after starting a fire at the base to scare away the bear in case it tried to come up after them.

But, unfortunately, they left the matches back at their first campsite, so they decided to take turns sleeping and keeping watch, since it was clear they had to spend the night there. Billy went up first and, curling up in a good spot in the bare tree, tried to sleep, while brave Tommy, armed with a big stick, paced back and forth below. Every few minutes, a shaky voice would call from above, "Is anything coming?" and an anxious voice would reply from below, "Not yet. Hurry up and go to sleep! I want my turn."

At last, Billy started to snore, and then Tommy felt so lonely he couldn't take it anymore; so he climbed down to a lower branch and sat there, nodding off and trying to stay alert, until he too fell asleep. The early moon watched over the two boys as they rested there like a couple of little owls.

A loud scream, some scrambling above, and then a strong shaking and howling woke Tommy up so suddenly that he lost his senses for a moment and couldn’t figure out where he was.

"The bear! The bear! Don't let him get me! Tommy, Tommy, come and make him let go," yelled Billy, breaking the quiet night with his mournful cries.

Tommy looked up, expecting to see a big bear eating his terrified friend; but the moonlight revealed nothing but poor Billy hanging from a branch, high above the ground, caught by his belt after he fell. He had been dreaming about bears and rolled off his spot; so there he hung, kicking and crying, half awake, and it took a while before Tommy could convince him that he was completely safe.

How to get him down was the next question. The branch wasn’t strong enough to hold Tommy, even though he climbed up and tried to unhook poor Billy. The belt was tightly twisted at the back, and Billy couldn’t reach to undo it, nor could he get his legs around the branch to pull himself up. It seemed there was no option but to unbuckle the belt and drop. He was too scared to try that because the ground was hard, and the fall was quite far. Fortunately, both the belt and buckle were strong; so he hung there safely, though very uncomfortably, while Tommy racked his boyish brain to come up with a way to help him.

Billy had just said that he was going to be cut in half soon if nothing was done for him, and Tommy was in despair when they thought they heard a distant shout, and both responded until their throats were nearly raw from screaming.

"I think I see a light moving over there," Billy shouted from his spot, pointing toward the valley.

"They're looking for us, but they won't hear us. I'll run and shout louder, and bring them up here," replied Tommy, happy to do anything that would put an end to this awful situation.

"Don't leave me! I might fall and get hurt! The bear could come! Don't go! Don’t go!" Billy cried, wanting to let go but too scared.

"I won't go far, and I'll be back as soon as I can. You're safe up there. Just hang on, and we'll get you down soon," replied Tommy, dashing off in a frenzy, not paying attention to where he was going, and too excited to worry about any damage.

The moon was bright on the dead trees, but as he made his way among the green pines, it became dark, causing him to stumble and fall frequently. Ignoring his bumps and bruises, he climbed over rocks, jumped over fallen trunks, struggled through streams, and descended steep areas until, with a careless leap, he tumbled head over heels into a deep hole and lay there for a moment, dazed from the fall. It turned out to be an old bear trap, long out of use, and luckily well-covered with dead leaves; otherwise, poor Tommy would have broken his bones.

When he came to his senses, he was so exhausted that he lay there for a while in a daze, too tired to know or care about anything, only vaguely aware that someone was trapped in a tree or a well, and that, overall, running away wasn't all that enjoyable.

Eventually, the sound of a gun woke him up; and remembering poor Billy, he tried to climb out of the pit, since the moonlight revealed his location. But it was too deep, and he was too stiff from exhaustion and the fall to move quickly. So he shouted, whistled, and fumed around like a little bear trapped in the pit.

It’s really hard to find someone who’s lost in these huge mountains, and many people wander for hours close to help, confused by the dense woods, deep ravines, and cliffs that surround them. Some have lost their lives; and as Tommy lay on the leaves, exhausted from his struggles, he thought about all the stories he had recently heard at the farm. He started to wonder what it would be like to starve to death down there and wished that poor Billy could come and share his ordeal so they could die together, like the Babes in the Wood, or even better, the Boy Scouts lost on the prairies in that exciting story, "Bill Boomerang, the Wild Hunter of the West."

"I think Mom is worried this time because I've never stayed out all night before, and I definitely won’t do it again without asking. It's actually a lot of fun, though, if they manage to find me. I'm not scared, and it isn't too cold. I've always wanted to sleep outside, and now I’m finally doing it. I wish poor Billy were here in this nice bed with me. Won't he be scared all alone over there? Maybe the belt will break and he'll get hurt falling down. I feel bad now for leaving him; he's such a scaredy-cat. There's the gun again! I bet it's that guy chasing us. Hey! Hello! Here I am! Whoop! Hurrah! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

Tommy's thoughts turned into loud yells as his high-pitched voice could manage, and he thought someone replied. But it must have just been an echo because no one showed up; after another wild run around his confinement, the poor boy curled up among the leaves and fell fast asleep since there was nothing else to do.

So there they were, the two young hunters, lost at midnight on the mountain—one dangling like an apple from an old tree, and the other sound asleep in a bear pit. Meanwhile, their worried mothers were crying and wringing their hands back at the farm, while all the men in the neighborhood were out searching for the lost boys. The hunter who returned to the hotel had reported encountering the runaways and tried to send them home in time; so people knew where to search. Led by the man and his dog, Mr. Mullin went up the mountain with his group. It was a mild night, and the moon was shining bright and clear; so the search was, for the most part, kind of easy and pleasant at first, with lanterns flickering through the dark forest like fireflies, the lonely cliffs seeming alive with men, and voices echoing in places where usually only the brooks babbled and the hawks cried. But as time passed without any sign of the boys, the men grew anxious and started to fear that something serious had happened to the runaways.

"I can't go home without those little guys, especially Tommy," said Mr. Mullin, as they took a break after a tough climb through the devastated grove. "He's a boy after my own heart, quick as a chipmunk, clever as a young rooster, and as full of mischief as a monkey. He’s not afraid of anything, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find him having a great time, as cool as a cucumber."

"The chubby kid won’t take it well, I think. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have kept the energetic guy with me and taught him how to hunt. I regret not taking both of them home," said the man with the gun, realizing his mistake too late, as people often do.

"Maybe they fell down a cliff and died, like Moses Warner when he got lost," suggested a tall guy, who had shouted himself hoarse.

"Hush up and come on! The dog is barking over there, and he might have found them," said the farmer, rushing toward the spot where the hound was barking at something in a tree.

It was poor Billy, hanging there motionless, half unconscious from exhaustion and fear. The belt had slipped up under his arms, allowing him to breathe easily; and there he was, looking like a strange kind of cone on the damaged pine.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed the farmer, as the tall boy climbed up, unhooked Billy, and handed him down like a young bird into the arms held up to catch him.

"He's okay, just really scared. Let's go find the other one. I'm sure he went for help and might be halfway home by now," said the hunter, who wasn't very concerned about the chubby kid.

Tommy's hat was lying on the ground, and his owner pointed it out to the dog, instructing him to find the boy. The loyal hound sniffed around and then took off with his nose to the ground, following the winding path Tommy had taken in his rush. The hunter and a few of the men followed him, leaving the farmer with the others to look after Billy.

Presently, the dog arrived at the bear pit and started barking again.

"He's got him!" shouted the men, feeling a wave of relief. They hurried forward and soon spotted the good beast peering down at a small white object in one corner of the dark hole.

It was Tommy's face in the moonlight, while the rest of him was hidden beneath leaves. The small round face looked very peaceful; and for a moment, the men stood completely still, worried that the fall might have hurt the boy. Then the hunter jumped down and gently touched the brown cheek. It was warm, and a soft snore from the pug nose made the man call out, feeling much relieved,--

"He's fine. Wake up here, little guy; your family needs you at home. Had enough hunting for now?"

As he spoke, Tommy opened his eyes, stretched, and said, "Hey, Billy," as casually as if he were in his own bed at home. Then the rustling leaves, the moonlight on his face, and the sight of several men staring down at him jolted him wide awake.

"Did you shoot the big bear?" he asked, looking up at the hunter with a smile.

"No; but I caught a little one, and here he is," the man replied, playfully rolling Tommy in the leaves, quite happy that he didn't whine or make a fuss.

"Got lost, didn't we? Oh, where's Billy? I left him up a tree like a raccoon, and he wouldn't come down," laughed Tommy, tossing aside his brown bedcovers and ready to get up now.

They all laughed with him; and soon, after the story was shared, they pulled the boy out of the pit and headed back to join the other traveler, who was now sitting up eating the bread and butter Mrs. Mullin had sent for their very late supper.

The men cheered again as the two boys shared their tales of trouble. Once they had refreshed themselves, the group headed home, blowing the tin horns and firing shots to let the scattered searchers know the lost kids were found. Billy was very quiet and happily rode on the various broad backs offered to him, but Tommy proudly refused to be carried. With an occasional boost over a rough spot, he walked all the way down on his own strong legs. He was the hero of the adventure and loved sharing how he caught the woodchuck, cooked the fish, slid down the big rock, and slept in the old bear pit. However, deep down he decided to wait until he was older to try being a hunter, and even though he caught several woodchucks that summer, he never shot another harmless bird.

VIII.

THE MAGIC BOX.

"I wish I had a magic bracelet like Rosamond's that would poke me when I was about to do something wrong," said little May as she set down the story she had been reading.

There was no one else in the room, but she heard a sweet voice whisper these words right next to her ear:--

"Now listen, little May,

If you want to do well,

Check under your pillow

Every night, okay?

If you've been good

All through the day,

You'll find a gift,

Useful or fun;

But if you've been

Grumpy, selfish, or wild,

A bad surprise will come

For the naughty child.

So try, little dear,

And soon you'll see

How easy and nice

It will be to be good."

 

May was really surprised by this and looked around everywhere to see who had spoken, but she couldn’t find anyone.

"I think I dreamed it; but my eyes are wide open, and I can't create poetry, whether I'm asleep or awake."

As she said that, someone laughed; and the same voice sang again,--

"Ha, ha! You can't see,

Even though I'm here;

But listen to what

I whisper in your ear.

Don't tell anyone about this,

Because if you do,

My fun will be ruined,

And yours will be too.

But if you behave,

And are patient and cheerful,

A real fairy will come

To see little May."

"Oh, how amazing that will be! I'll try my best and be as good as possible if I can just get a glimpse of a real fairy. I've always believed they exist, and now I'll finally see what they look like," the little girl exclaimed, so thrilled that she danced around the room, clapping her hands.

Something bright shot out of the window from the flowers that were there, and no more songs could be heard; so May realized that the elf had left.

"I've got a great secret all to myself, and I'll keep it safe. I wonder what gift will arrive tonight," she said, finding this play very interesting.

She was really well-behaved all day and didn’t make a fuss about going to bed, even though usually she would worry, want to play, ask for water, and annoy poor Nursey in lots of ways. She settled into her little bed, and then got so eager to see what was under her pillow that she forgot and called out irritably,--

"Please hurry and leave. Don't take your time hanging up my clothes, you slow old thing! Just go, go!"

That hurt the nurse's feelings, and she left without getting her good-night kiss. But May didn't care and reached under her pillow as soon as the door closed. A lamp was always left on, so she could see the little gold box she pulled out.

"How nice! I hope there's some candy inside," she said, opening it very carefully.

Oh, no! What do you think happened? A wasp flew out and stung her lips; then both the wasp and the box disappeared, leaving May to cry alone, with a sharp pain in her lips that echoed the unkind words.

"What a terrible gift! I can't stand that malicious fairy who sends such awful things," she cried.

Then she lay still and thought about it; she didn't dare call anyone because she didn't want anyone to figure out the secret. Deep down, she knew that her harsh words hurt Nursey just like the sting hurt her lips, and she felt bad. Suddenly, the pain started to fade, and by the time she decided to ask the kind old woman to forgive her, it was all gone.

The next morning she kissed Nursey and said she was sorry, and she tried really hard to be good until tea-time; then she rushed to see what tasty snacks they would have, even though she had often been told not to go into the dining room. No one was there; and on the table was a plate of delicious little cakes, all white like snowballs.

"I just need to have a little bite, and I’ll tell Mom later," she said; and before she realized it, she had eaten an entire little cake.

"Nobody will miss it, and I can grab another at tea. Now, a sugar cube and a splash of cream before mom comes; I really enjoy picking at it."

Having done one wrong thing, May felt inclined to continue, so she nibbled and fiddled with all sorts of forbidden things until she heard a footstep, then she ran away. Eventually, when the bell rang, she walked in with the others, looking as prim and proper as if she had no idea how to play tricks. No one noticed the missing cake, and her mother gave her another, saying,--

"There, sweetheart, is a nice juicy one for my good child."

May turned red, wanting to confess what she had done, but she felt embarrassed because there were others around; and people assumed she was blushing like a shy little girl receiving praise.

But when she went to bed, she was almost scared to look under the pillow, knowing she had done something wrong. Finally, she slowly pulled out the box and opened it, expecting something to jump out at her. All she saw was a tiny black bag that immediately started to grow larger until it was big enough to fit both her hands. Then it tightened around her wrists, as if to keep her curious hands out of trouble.

"Well, this is really strange, but not as bad as the wasp. I hope no one sees it while I’m asleep. I really wish I hadn’t touched those cakes and stuff," sighed May, glancing at the black bag and unsuccessfully trying to free her hands.

She cried herself to sleep, and when she woke up the bag was gone. No one had seen it; but she told her mom about the cake and promised not to do that anymore.

"Today is going to be a really good day, all of it," she said, as she skipped away, feeling as light as a feather after confessing her little sins.

But, sadly, it's so easy to forget and mess up that May ruined her day before dinner by going to the river and playing with the boats, even after being told not to. She didn't say anything about it and went to a party in the afternoon, where she was so happy she didn't think about the bad thing until she was in bed and opened the fairy box. A little chain appeared, which quickly grew long and big, wrapping around her ankles like she was a prisoner. May loved to roll around, and felt really upset being chained like this; but there was nothing she could do, so she lay very still and had plenty of time to regret it.

"It’s a fitting punishment for me, and I’ve earned it. I won’t cry, but I will—I will remember." And May said her prayers very seriously, truly intending to keep her promise this time.

All the next day, she was really careful to keep her mouth from saying anything rude, her hands from touching things she shouldn't, and her feet from wandering off. Nothing ruined the day; she kept such a close eye on everything. When Mom gave her a good-night kiss, she said,--

"What should I give my sweet daughter, who has been kind, obedient, and hard at work all day?"

"I want a white kitten, with blue eyes, and a pink ribbon around its neck," replied May.

"I'll try to find one. Now go to bed, sweetheart, and have sweet dreams!" said mom, with lots of kisses on the rosy cheeks and the smile that was a reward.

May was so caught up thinking about the kitten and her great day that she forgot about the box until she heard a little "Mew, mew!" coming from under her pillow.

"Wow, what's that?" And she popped her head up to look.

Out came the box; off flew the lid, and there, on a red cushion, was a white kitten about two inches long. May couldn't believe it was alive until it jumped out of its nest, stretched itself, and suddenly grew to just the right size to play with and look cute. Its eyes were blue, its tail was like a white feather, and it had a sweet pink bow around its neck. It danced all over the bed, ran up the curtains, hid under the clothes, nipped May's toes, licked her face, patted her nose with its soft paw, and winked at her in such a funny way that she laughed in joy at having such a lovely kitty. Eventually, as if it knew the bed was the perfect place to relax, the kitten curled up in a little ball and purred May to sleep.

"I guess that cute little outfit will be gone like everything else," said May, as she woke up and looked around for her first lovely gift.

No; there was the adorable little thing sitting in the sun among the flower pots, washing her face and getting ready to play. They had such a great time together, and everyone was so surprised to see exactly the kitten May wanted! They thought it showed up like kittens usually do; and May never told them it was a gift from a fairy, because she had promised not to. She was so happy with the little kitty that she was sweet all day; and when she went to bed, she thought,--

"I wish I had a dog to play with my darling Snowdrop and to run with me when I go for a walk."

"Bow, wow, wow!" came from under the pillow; and out of the box trotted a curly black dog, with long ears, a silver collar, and such bright, kind eyes that May wasn't scared at all. She loved him right away and named him Floss because he was so soft and silky. The cat liked him too; and when May got sleepy, they both cuddled up in the same basket like two good babies and fell asleep.

"Well, I can't believe it! What will we discover next?" said Nurse when she saw the dog in the morning.

"Maybe it will be an elephant, filling the entire house and freaking you out," laughed May, skipping around with Snowdrop chasing her bare toes, while Floss shook and growled over her shoes as if they were rats.

"If your cousin John wants to give you any more animals, I wish he'd send a pony to take you to school and save my old legs from the pain of trotting after you," said Nurse; May did have a wealthy cousin who cared about her a lot and often gave her nice things.

"Maybe he will," laughed May, amused by the thought that it was a fairy, not Cousin John, who sent the clever little creatures to her.

But she didn't get the pony that night; because in the afternoon her mom told her not to sit on the lawn since it was damp, and May didn’t care, being busy with a nice story. So when she picked up her box, a loud sneeze seemed to blow the lid off, and all she saw was a piece of red flannel.

"What is this for?" she asked, feeling really let down; and as if to reply, the strip of flannel wrapped itself around her neck.

"There! My throat is sore, and I am hoarse. I wonder how that fairy knew I sat on the damp grass. I’m so sorry; I really wanted a pony, and I could have had it if I had just been more careful," said May, frustrated with herself for ruining all her fun.

It was spoiled; she caught a bad cold the next day, so she couldn't go outside at all and had to take medicine and stay by the fire while the other kids enjoyed a nice picnic.

"I won't wish for anything tonight; I don't deserve a gift, I was so disobedient. But I have tried to be patient," said May, feeling for the box.

The fairy hadn’t forgotten her, and there was a beautiful picture book, filled with new, delightful stories printed in colored ink.

"How great to read tomorrow while I'm stuck inside!" she said, and went to sleep feeling very happy.

All the next day, she enjoyed the beautiful pictures and funny stories, never complaining or worrying at all. The doctor said she was doing so much better that she could go out tomorrow if the weather was nice.

"Now I will wish for the pony," said May, in her bed. But there was nothing in the box except a little red silk rope, like a halter. She didn’t know what to do with it that night, but she figured it out the next morning; for just as she finished getting dressed, her brother called from the garden,--

"May, come look and see what we found in the stable. None of us can catch him, so please come and see if you can; your name is on the card tied to his mane."

May looked, and there was a snow-white pony running around the yard like he was having a great time. Then she realized the halter was for him and ran down to catch him. The moment she showed up, the pony came to her and nudged her hand with his nose, neighing, as if he was saying,--

"This is my little girl; I will take care of her and serve her well."

May was thrilled and super proud when the pony let her put on the saddle and bridle that were all set in the barn. She hopped on and rode joyfully down the road; Will, Mom, all the maids, and Floss and Snowdrop ran to see the beautiful sight. The kids at school were really excited when she came trotting up, and everyone wanted to ride Prince. He was very gentle, so everyone got a turn; but May had the most fun because she could go for long rides by the carriage every day when Mom and Will went out. That afternoon, they bought a blue riding outfit and a hat with a long feather; and May was so happy and satisfied at night that she said to herself as she lay in bed,--

"I'll wish for something for Will now and see if I get it. I don't want any more presents yet; I've had my share, and I'd love to give to other people who have no fairy box."

So she wished for a nice boat, and in the box was a key with the name "Water Lily" on it. She figured out what it meant, and in the morning, she told her brother to come to the river and see what she had for him. There was a beautiful green and white boat, with cushioned seats, a sail fully opened, and at the top of the mast, a little flag fluttering in the wind, with the words "Water Lily" in gold letters.

Will was so surprised and happy to find that it was his that he flipped over on the grass, kissed May, and hopped into his boat, shouting, "All aboard!" as if he couldn't wait to try it out right away.

May came, and they sailed away down the beautiful river, white with real lilies, while the blackbirds sang in the green meadows on either side, and kids stopped on the bridges to watch them go by.

After that, May kept trying to be good and wishing for things for herself and others, until she forgot how to be naughty, and became the sweetest little girl in the world. Then, there was no need for fairies to help her; and one night, the box was not under the pillow.

"Well, I've had my fill of pretty things, and I need to learn to get by without them. I'm glad I tried; because now it's easy to be good, and I don't need a reward," said May, as she drifted off to sleep, feeling happy and content, even though she did wish she could have seen the fairy just once.

Next morning, the first thing she saw was a stunning bracelet, glimmering on the table; and while she stood there admiring it, she heard a little voice singing,--

"Here’s the bracelet

For good little May

To wear on her arm

Day and night.

When it shines like the sun,

Everything's going well;

But when you misbehave,

A sharp prick will warn you.

Goodbye, little girl,

For now we have to part.

Create a fairy-box, dear,

From your own happy heart;

And take out for everyone

Sweet gifts every day,

Until all year long

Feels like beautiful May."

 

As the final notes faded, she noticed a tiny creature swinging on the rose in the vase—a beautiful elf with butterfly wings, a sheer dress, and a star on her forehead. She smiled and waved her hand as she gently rose and fluttered into the sunshine, disappearing from view. May was left with the magic bracelet on her arm and the joyful thought that she had, for the first time, really seen a fairy.

IX.

A hole in the wall.

PART I.

If anyone had asked Johnny Morris who his best friends were, he would have answered,--

"The sun and the wind, next to mom."

Johnny lived in a small alley that branched off from one of the busiest streets in the city—a noisy street where horse-car bells jingled and buses rumbled all day, coming and going from several large depots nearby. The alley was a boring place, with only two or three run-down houses in it and a tall, blank wall at the end.

The people who rushed past were too occupied to do more than glance at the lame boy sitting in the sun against the wall or to realize that there was an art gallery and a library in the courtyard. But Johnny had both and found so much joy in them that he could never be grateful enough to the wind that brought him his books and pictures, or to the sun that allowed him to enjoy them outside, far more than wealthier folks enjoyed their fancy galleries and libraries.

A bad fall a few months before this story starts hurt Johnny's back, making his legs almost useless and turning the cheerful, rosy boy into a pale cripple. His mother took in laundry and worked hard to pay for doctors and to feed and clothe her son, who could no longer run errands, help with the heavy tubs, or go to school. He could only pick out laces for her to iron, lie in bed in pain for hours, and on nice days, hobble outside to sit in a little old chair between the water-butt and the leaky tin boiler where he kept his books.

But he was a happy boy, despite the struggles and hardships; and the day a strong gust blew colorful scraps of a cheerful poster and a dusty newspaper down the alley to his feet marked the start of good luck for patient Johnny. There was a theater on the street beyond, and other colorful pieces made their way to him; the playful wind enjoyed swirling the papers around the corner and sending them flying until they landed under the chair or soared wildly over the wall.

Faces, animals, people, and big letters all came together to cheer the boy, who never tired of collecting these forgotten items; cutting out the large pictures to stick on the wall with leftover starch from his mother, and the smaller ones in the scrapbook he made from sturdy brown wrappers or newspapers after reading the latter carefully. Soon, the wall became very colorful; his mother helped by standing on a chair to put up the large pictures once Johnny had covered all the space he could reach. The books were carefully stored in the boiler after being pressed flat and labeled to suit Johnny's whims by pasting letters on the back. This was the circulating library; not only did the papers zip around the court at first, but the books they later created passed among the neighbors until they were completely worn out.

The old shoemaker next door loved reading stories on Sundays when he couldn't work; the pale seamstress above enjoyed browsing through ads for the nice things she wanted; and Patsey Flynn, the newsboy, who passed by every day to sell his papers at the station, often stopped to check out the playbills—he was crazy about the theater and would regale Johnny with tales of the amazing performances, making him feel like he had really been there and knew all the famous actors, from Humpty Dumpty to the great Salvini.

Now and then, a group of dirty kids would wander into the courtyard and ask to see the "pretty pictures." In those moments, Johnny felt like a proud and happy boy; with a clothes pole in hand, he would point out and explain the beauty of his collection, feeling like a hero when the little ones thanked him sincerely and promised to come back with all the nice papers they could find.

These were Johnny's joys: but he had two sorrows—one, a very real one, his aching back; and the other, a youthful desire to climb the wall and see what was on the other side, as it seemed like a truly amazing and lovely place to the poor child, confined in that dreary courtyard, with no friends to play with and few comforts.

He entertained himself by imagining what it looked like over there, and nearly every night he added some new charm to this unseen land as his mother told him fairy tales to help him sleep. He filled it with the beloved characters that all kids know and love. The white cat sitting on the wall was Puss in Boots to him, or Whittington's good friend. Bluebeard's wives were hidden in the house whose upper windows he could barely catch glimpses of. Red Riding Hood encountered the wolf in the grove of chestnuts that rustled over there; and he was sure that Jack's Beanstalk grew up just like that wall.

But the story he loved the most was "Sleeping Beauty in the Wood" because he was sure there was some beautiful being living in that garden, and he really wanted to get in and find her to play. He even planted a bean in a little damp dirt behind the water barrel and watched it grow, hoping it would turn into a strong ladder like Jack's. But the vine grew really slowly, and Johnny was so impatient that he promised Patsey his favorite book "for his own little reward" if he would climb up and see what was in that enchanted garden.

"Faix, and I will, thin." And up went good-natured Pat, after laying an old board over the barrel to stand on; because there were spikes all along the top of the wall, and only cats and sparrows could walk there.

Alas for Johnny's eager hopes, and alas for Pat's Sunday best! The board broke, and splash went the climber, with a wild Irish howl that shocked Johnny half out of his wits and brought both Mrs. Morris and the cobbler to the rescue.

After this sad event, Pat stayed away for a while in a huff, and Johnny felt lonelier than ever. But he was a cheerful little guy; so he appreciated the joys he had and focused on building his wall—because the March winds had brought him plenty of treasures, and once the April rains were done, the May sunshine made the courtyard warm enough for him to spend almost the entire day outside.

"I'm really sorry Pat is upset, because he saw this poster and mentioned it to me, and he wants to help me put up these pictures," Johnny said to himself on a breezy morning as he sat looking at a big poster that the wind had blown into his lap a few minutes earlier.

The play was "Monte Cristo," and the images showed the hero escaping from prison by digging holes in the wall, along with other impressive scenes.

"This is a cheerful red one! Now, where should I place it to showcase it best and not overshadow the other beauties?"

As he spoke, Johnny turned his chair around and looked over his collection with as much pride and satisfaction as if it contained all the marvels of art.

It really was quite amazing; all kinds of images sparkled in the sun—smiling ladies, dramatic scenes, circus parades, labels from tin cans, red tomatoes, yellow peaches, and purple plums, amusing advertisements, and bright posters of all sorts. None were flawless, but they were arranged thoughtfully; and the overall effect was really great, Johnny thought.

Currently, his eyes moved from these treasures to the budding bushes that enticingly nodded over the wall. A grapevine sprawled along the top, trying to conceal the sharp spikes; lilacs waved their purple blooms above it, and several tall chestnut trees towered over all, creating green canopies with their broad leaves, where spikes of blossoms began to show like candles on a giant Christmas tree. Sparrows chirped cheerfully everywhere; the white cat, wearing a fresh blue bow, lounged on the edge of the wall, and from the depths of the enchanted garden came a sweet voice singing,--

"And she invites you to come in,

With a dimple in your chin,

Billy boy, Billy boy."

 

Johnny smiled as he listened and touched the small dimple in his chin, hoping the singer would finish this delightful song. But she never did, even though he often heard that and other playful tunes sung in the same cheerful voice, accompanied by bursts of laughter and the sound of lively feet dancing up and down the wooden walkways. Johnny felt an intense desire to know who the singer was; her music brightened his solitude, and the mysterious sounds he heard in the garden fueled his curiosity and longing day by day.

Sometimes a guy's voice called, "Fay, where are you?" and Johnny was convinced "Fay" was short for Fairy. Another voice was often heard speaking in a weird, soft language, full of exclamations and nice sounds. A little dog barked and responded to the name Pippo. Canaries sang, and some playful bird scolded, screamed, and laughed so much like a human that Johnny was sure some kind of magic was happening next door.

A wonderful scent now drifted over the wall, like flowers, and the poor boy imagined endless beauty behind that harsh wall as he took care of the dandelions his mom brought him from the Common when she had time to pick them; he loved flowers so much and tried to make them out of colored paper since he couldn’t have any nicer ones.

Now and then, a soft, rushing sound sparked his curiosity so much that he hobbled painfully up the path until he could see into the trees; and once, his eager eyes caught a glimpse of a little creature, all blue, white, and gold, who peeked out from the green leaves, nodded, and tried to toss him a bunch of chestnut flowers. He reached out to her with speechless delight, forgetting his crutches, and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed the shutter of a window quickly enough to give his poor back a painful twist; and when he could look up again, the fairy had disappeared, and all that was left was the leaves dancing in the wind.

Johnny didn't want to try that again for fear of falling, and each step pained him; but he never forgot it and was thinking about it as he sat staring at the wall on that unforgettable May day.

"How I would love to sneak a look and see how it really looks! It sounds and smells so summery and nice in there. I know it must be amazing. Hey, Pussy, can you tell me what you see?"

Johnny laughed as he talked, and the white cat purred politely because she liked the boy who never threw stones at her or interrupted her naps. But Puss couldn't explain the wonders of the happy hunting ground below, and to comfort himself for the letdown, Johnny returned to his new drawing.

"Now, if this guy in the play managed to dig his way out through a ten-foot-thick wall with just a rusty nail and a broken knife, I don't see why I can't chip away at one brick and take a look. It's all quiet in there right now; this seems like a good spot, and no one will notice if I cover the hole with a picture. So I’m going to give it a shot, I really will!"

Fired up by the idea of recreating Monte Cristo on a small scale, Johnny picked up the old scissors in his lap and started to chip away at the mortar around a brick that was already loose and crumbling at the corners. His mother smiled at his enthusiasm, then sighed and said, as she clapped her laces with a heavy heart,--

"Ah, poor thing, if only he had his health, he could find his place in the world. But now he’s likely to face a dead end while he’s alive, with no one to help him get through it."

Puss, in her white boots, sat on high and watched, as wise as the cat in the story, but didn’t say anything. The toad living behind the water barrel hopped under the few leaves of the struggling bean, like Jack waiting to climb; and just then the noon bells started to ring as if they sang clear and loud,--

"Turn around again, Whittington, Mayor of London."

So, encouraged by his friends, Johnny scraped and dug energetically until the old brick fell out, revealing another one behind it. After taking a quick breath, he grabbed his crutch and gave two or three strong pokes, which quickly cleared the way and allowed the sunlight to pour in, while the wind tossed the lilacs like victory flags, and the cheerful sparrows chirped,--

"Hey, the conquering hero's here!"

Rather scared by his unexpected success, the boy sat quietly for a moment to see what would happen. But everything was still; and soon, with a racing heart, Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long-awaited "peek." He couldn’t see much; but that little bit heightened his curiosity and joy, as it felt like looking into a fairy-tale world, after the dust, noise, and grimy houses of the court.

A bed of vibrant tulips swayed their bright petals in the center of a grassy area; a peculiar, colorful bird preened its feathers on a golden cage; a small white dog napped in the sun; and on a red carpet beneath the trees lay the Princess, fast asleep.

"It's all good," Johnny said with a long, happy sigh; "that's definitely the Sleeping Beauty. There's the blue dress, the white fur coat flowing around, the lovely hair, and—yeah—there's the old nurse, spinning and nodding just like she did in the storybook my mom got me when I cried because I couldn't go see the play."

This last discovery really confused Johnny and made him think that fairy tales might actually be true; how could he know that the strange woman was an Italian servant in her traditional dress, holding a distaff? After taking a moment to rub his eyes, he looked again and noticed more details by turning his head around. A basket of oranges was next to the Princess, a striped curtain was draped from a tree branch to block the wind, and several books displayed their illustrated pages enticingly in front of Johnny's eager eyes.

"Oh, if I could just go in and eat them, read them, talk to them, and see all the amazing things!" thought the poor boy as he looked from one delight to another, feeling completely shut out. "I can’t go wake her up like the Prince did, but I really wish she’d get up and do something now that I can see. I can’t throw a stone; it might hit someone, and I can’t shout; it might scare her. The cat won’t help, and the sparrows are too busy scolding each other. I know! I’ll fly a kite over, and that will make her happy anyway. I don’t think she has any kites; girls never do."

Eager to execute his plan, Johnny tied a long string to his brightest poster, then secured it to the pole he occasionally used for fishing in the water barrel. He held it up to catch the fresh breezes blowing through the courtyard. His trusty friend, the wind, quickly got the idea, and with a strong gust, sent the red paper fluttering over the wall, where it hung momentarily on the trees before dropping among the tulips. Its frantic attempts to escape woke the dog, who started racing and barking as Johnny hurriedly let go of the string and put his eye up to his peephole.

The Princess's eyes were wide open now, and she clapped her hands when Pippo brought the colorful picture for her to see; meanwhile, the old woman, with a long yawn, walked away, carrying her distaff over her shoulder like a rifle.

"She likes it! I’m so happy. I wish I had more to send over. This will come off; I’ll poke it through, and maybe she’ll notice it."

Very excited, Johnny impulsively ripped his favorite picture, a colorful flower painting he had just hung up, from the wall. He folded it and pushed it through the hole, waiting to see what would happen next.

Nothing but a rustle, a bark, and a strange croak from the beautiful bird, which made the canaries start singing sweetly.

"She doesn't see; maybe she'll hear," said Johnny. And he started to whistle like a mockingbird; this was his one skill, and he was proud of it.

Presently he heard a funny burst of laughter from the parrot, and then the voice said,--

"No, Polly, you can't sing like that bird. I wonder where he is? I think he's among the bushes over there. Come on, Pippo, let's go find him."

"Now she's coming!" And Johnny turned red in the face, trying to do his best trills and chirps.

Nearer and nearer came the steps, the lilacs rustled as if shaken, and soon the roll of paper disappeared. There was a pause, and then the little voice exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise,--

"Wow, there’s a hole! I’ve never noticed it before. Oh! I can see the street. How cool! How cool!"

"She likes the hole! I wonder if she will like me?" Feeling encouraged by his little victories, Johnny took another look. This was the best one yet; he saw a big blue eye, with hints of golden hair above, a small round nose in the middle, and red lips below. It was like a burst of sunshine, and Johnny winked, almost blinded by the sight; the eye sparkled, the nose sniffed delicately, and the lovely mouth broke into a laugh as a voice joyfully exclaimed,--

"I see someone! Who are you? Come over and tell me!"

"I'm Johnny Morris," the boy replied, trembling with excitement.

"Did you create this nice hole?"

"I just tapped a brick, and it came loose."

"Dad won't mind. Is that your bird?"

"No, it's me. I whistled."

"It's really beautiful. Do it again," commanded the voice, as if it was used to giving orders.

Johnny listened and when he stopped, panting, a small hand reached through the hole, grabbing as many lilies of the valley as it could manage, and the Princess happily expressed her delight by saying,--

"I like it; you'll do it again soon. Here are some flowers for you. Now let’s talk. Are you a nice boy?"

This was a tough question; and Johnny replied quietly, with his nose comfortably buried in the beautiful flowers,--

"Not really, I’m limping; I can’t play like the other guys."

"Porverino!" sighed the small voice, filled with sympathy; and, in an instant, three red-and-yellow tulips dropped at Johnny's feet, making him feel like he had truly slipped into a fairyland through that charming hole.

"Oh, thank you! Aren't they just stunning? I've never seen such beautiful things," stammered the poor boy, clutching his treasures as if he feared they might disappear.

"You can have as many as you want. Nanna will be upset, but dad won't care. Tell me more. What do you do over there?" asked the child, excitedly.

"All I do is paste pictures and make books when I don’t hurt too much. I used to help my mom, but I got hurt, and I can’t do much now," replied the boy, embarrassed to say how many laces he patiently picked or clapped, since that was all he could do to help.

"If you enjoy pictures, you should come and see mine someday. I make a lot of them. Dad teaches me how. His are amazing. Do you draw or paint yours?"

"I just cut them out of newspapers and stick them on this wall or put them in scrapbooks. I can't draw, and I don't have any paints," Johnny replied.

"You should say 'don't have any paints.' I'll come and see you someday; and if I like you, I'll let you have my old paint box. Do you want it?"

"Sure, I do!"

"I think I will like you, so I’ll bring it when I come. Do you hurt a lot?"

"Really badly, sometimes. I have to lie down all day and can't do anything."

"Do you weep?"

"No! I'm too big for that. I whistle."

"I know I’m going to like you because you’re brave!" shouted the eager voice with its charming accent; and then an orange came rolling through the hole, as if the new friend wanted to do something to ease the "ache."

"Isn't that amazing! I really love them, but my mom can't buy them very often." And Johnny took a delicious taste right then and there.

"Then I’ll give you a lot. We have plenty at home, way nicer than these. Oh, you should see our garden there!"

"Where do you live?" Johnny dared to ask, as there was a homesick tone in the voice when it said those last words.

"In Rome. We're only here for a year while Dad sorts things out; then we’ll go back, and I’ll be happy."

"I think you’d be happy in there. It looks really great to me, and I’ve been wanting to see it ever since I got out."

"It's a boring place to me. I prefer to be where it's always warm, and people are more attractive than here. Are you attractive?"

"What strange questions she asks!" And poor Johnny was so confused he could only stammer, laughing,--

"I guess not. Guys don’t really care about looks."

"Look, and let me see. I like beautiful people," commanded the voice.

"Doesn't she give orders?" thought Johnny, as he followed her lead. But he enjoyed it, and he wore such a cheerful expression at the peephole that Princess Fay was happy to say, after studying him for a while,—

"No, you aren't beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you seem nice, so the freckles on your nose and the paleness of your face don't bother me. I think you're a good person. I feel for you, and I'll lend you a book to read when the pain hits."

"I couldn't wait for that if I had a book. I really love reading!" And Johnny laughed out of pure joy at the thought of a new book; he rarely got one, being too poor to buy them and too helpless to enjoy the city's free libraries.

"Then you'll have it now." And there was another quick movement in the garden, followed by a fat little book, slowly being pushed through the hole in the wall.

"This is the only one that will get through. I know you'll enjoy Hans Andersen's fairy tales. Keep it for as long as you want. I have plenty more."

"You're so awesome! I wish I had something for you," said the boy, clearly touched by this kind friendliness.

"Let me see one of your books. They’re new to me. I'm tired of all my books."

Quick as a flash, the cover of the old boiler came off, and out came half a dozen of Johnny's best works, ready to be shoved through the wall, with a sincere request, --

"Keep them all; they’re not worth much, but they’re the best I’ve got. I’ll make some nicer ones as soon as I can find more nice images and pieces."

"They look really interesting. Thank you. I'm going to read them now and then I'll come back and talk again. Goodbye, Giovanni."

"Goodbye, Miss."

Thus ended the first conversation between little Pyramus and Thisbe through the hole in the wall, while the cat sat above and played in the moonlight with her yellow eyes.

PART II.

After that day, a new life started for Johnny, and he thrived like a small plant emerging from a dark corner into the sunlight. All sorts of wonderful things happened, and good times really seemed to arrive. The mysterious father didn’t mind the changes made to his wall, as he was busy with his own matters and happy to see his little girl joyful. Old Nanna, being more cautious, went to visit the new neighbors and was immediately won over by the boy’s struggles and the mother’s gentle demeanor. She brought all the curtains from the house for Mrs. Morris to fix up and, in her charming broken English, complimented Johnny's gallery and library, promising to bring Fay to visit him someday.

Meanwhile, the little people chatted daily, and all sorts of things went back and forth between them. Flowers, fruit, books, and candies kept Johnny in a state of happiness and inspired him with such amazing ideas that the Princess never knew what delightful surprise would come next. Incredible kites flew over the wall, and tissue balloons burst in the flower beds. It seemed like all the birds in the sky lived in that courtyard, as the boy whistled and played until he was hoarse because she enjoyed it. The last of his saved pennies came out of his tin bank to buy paper and pictures for the cheerful little books he made for her. He sacrificed his side of the wall to decorate hers; and, as the final gift his grateful heart could offer, he pushed the toad through the hole, so it could live among the lilies and eat the flies that started to buzz around her Highness when she came to give orders to her loyal subjects.

She always called the boy Giovanni because she thought it was a prettier name than John. She never got tired of telling stories, asking questions, and making plans. Her favorite was what they would do when Johnny visited her, as she had been promised he would when her dad wasn’t too busy to let them enjoy the beauty of the studio. Fay was a true artist's child and thought nothing was lovelier than pictures. Johnny thought so too and dreamed of the happy day when he would go see the amazing things his little friend described so well.

"I think it will be tomorrow because Dad is getting lazy, and he usually plays with me and lets me explore wherever I want while he goes out or smokes in the garden. So get ready, and if he says you can come, I'll have the flag up early, and you can rush over."

These friendly comments were whispered into Johnny's eager ear about two weeks after they first met; and he quickly promised, adding seriously a moment later,--

"Mom says she's worried that it will be too exhausting for me to go around, climb stairs, and see new things because I get tired so easily, and then the pain kicks in. But I don't care how much I hurt as long as I can see the pictures—and you."

"Are you ever going to get better? Nanna believes you might."

"So does mom, if we had the money to get away to the countryside, eat nice food, and see doctors. But we can't; so there's no point in worrying." And Johnny let out a big sigh.

"I wish Dad was rich; then he could give you money. He works hard to save up to go back to Italy, so I can’t ask him for it. But maybe I can sell my pictures and make a little. Dad’s friends often offer me sweets for kisses; I’d rather have money instead, and that would help. Yes, I’m going to do it." And Fay clapped her hands confidently.

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to learn how to fix shoes. Mr. Pegget said he would teach me. That doesn’t require legs, and he makes a decent living."

"It isn't pretty work. Nanna can teach you how to braid straw like she did at home; that's easy and nice, and the baskets sell really well, she says. I’ll talk to her about it, and you can give it a try tomorrow when you come."

"I will. Do you really think I can make it, then?" And Johnny stood up to test his legs; he was worried about the long walk, as it seemed to him.

"I'll go right away and ask Dad."

Away flew Fay, and soon returned with a happy "Yes!" that made Johnny rush in to tell his mom and ask her to fix the elbows of his only jacket; because, all of a sudden, his old clothes looked so worn-out that he was afraid to show himself to the neighbors he wanted to see so much.

"Hooray! I’m really going tomorrow. And you, too, Mom," shouted the boy, waving his crutch so energetically that he lost his balance and fell.

"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it. Lift me up, and I'll relax while we chat about it," he said cheerfully, as his mother helped him onto the bed, where he forgot his pain while thinking about the fun things ahead of him.

The next day, the flag was flying from the wall, and Fay was already at the hole, but Johnny didn't show up; when Nanna went to check on him, she came back with the sad news that the poor boy was in a lot of pain and wouldn't be able to move for a few days.

"Let me go see him," Fay pleaded earnestly.

"Cara mia, this is no place for you. It’s so dark, so damp, so poor, it could break your heart," Nanna said firmly.

"If Dad were here, he would let me go. I'm not going to play; I’ll just sit here and make some plans for my poor boy."

Nanna left her upset little boss and went to make a nice bowl of soup for Johnny, while Fay came up with a great plan and, even more impressively, made it happen.

For a week it rained, for a week Johnny was in pain, and for a week Fay quietly worked at her little easel in the corner of the studio while her dad put the final touches on his beautiful painting, too busy to pay much attention to the child. On Saturday, the sun came out, Johnny felt better, and the big painting was finished. So were the smaller ones; as her dad sat resting after his work, Fay approached him with a tired but happy expression and handed him several drawings, sharing her treasured plan.

"Hey Dad, you said you would give me a dollar for every good copy I made of the cast you gave me. I worked really hard, and here are three. I really, really want some money. Can you pay me for these?"

"They're great," said the artist, after taking a good look at them. "You've put in the effort, my dear, and here are your hard-earned dollars. What do you need them for?"

"To help my son. I want him to come in here and look at the pictures, and let Grandma show him how to weave baskets; he can relax, and you’ll like him, and he might get better if he had some money. I have three quarters that friends gave me instead of candy. Would that be enough to send poor Giovanni to the countryside and get him doctors?"

No wonder Fay's dad was confused by this strange mix-up, because, focused on his work, he hadn’t caught half of what the child had said and had forgotten all about Johnny. Now he listened with half his attention, examining how the sunlight affected his painting while Fay shared the little story and asked how much money it would take to make Johnny's back better.

"Bless your sweet soul, my darling, it would take more than I can give or you earn in a year. Eventually, when I have some free time, we’ll see what can be done," replied Dad, smoking comfortably as he relaxed on the sofa in the large studio at the top of the house.

"You say that about a lot of things, Dad. 'By and by' isn't going to be enough time to do everything you promise. I prefer now, and poor Giovanni needs the country more than you need cigars or I need new dresses," said Fay, gently stroking her father's tired forehead and looking at him with a pleading expression.

"My dear, I can’t give up my cigar because I find inspiration in this calming smoke. And even though you’re a little angel, you need to be dressed; so hang on a bit, and we’ll take care of the boy—later." He was about to say "in a while" again, but stopped himself just in time, laughing.

"Then I will take him to the country myself. I can't stand waiting for this annoying 'later.' I know exactly how I’ll do it, and I’ll do it right now. Now, now!" shouted Fay, losing her patience; and with a frustrated look at her lazy dad, who looked like he was about to fall asleep, she rushed out of the room, down the stairs, through the kitchen, startling Nanna and scattering the salad like a whirlwind had just blown through, and didn’t stop for a breath until she stood in front of the garden wall with a little hatchet in her hand.

"This will be the place for him until I have enough money to send him away. I will show what I can do." He took out two bricks. "I will break down the wall, and he will come in right away," panted Fay. She gave a hard hit at the bricks, determined to get her way quickly—she was an impulsive little thing, full of love and compassion for the poor boy longing for the fresh air and sunshine, which she had in abundance.

Bang, bang, went the little hatchet, and down came one brick after another, until the hole was big enough for Fay to stick her head through; and being out of breath by then, she stopped to rest and take a look at Johnny's court.

Meanwhile, Nanna, having gathered her lettuce leaves and calmed down, went to check on what the child was doing. Finding her working furiously, the old woman rushed to tell "the Signor," Fay's dad, that his little girl was about to wreck the garden and bury herself under the fallen wall. This report, delivered with sighs and hand-wringing, alarmed the artist and prompted him to rush to the rescue, as he knew very well that his angel was a spirited one, capable of causing a lot of damage.

When he got there, he saw a cloud of dust, a pile of bricks among the lilies, and his child's feet sticking out of a big hole in the wall, while her head and shoulders were on the other side. He was quite amused, but also worried that the stone coping might fall on her. He pulled her back, assuring her that he would listen and help her right away if she really needed it.

But he became serious when he saw Fay's face; it was drenched in tears, her hands were bleeding, and dust covered her from head to toe.

"My dear, what's bothering you? Tell me, and I'll do whatever you want."

"No, you'll forget, you'll say 'Wait;' and now that I've seen everything, I can't stop until I get him out of that awful place. Look, look, and see if it isn't sad to live there, surrounded by pain and darkness, and so poor."

As she talked, Fay nudged her dad toward the hole; and to make her happy, he looked, seeing the dull courtyard, the noisy street beyond, and nearby the small room where Johnny's mom worked all day, while the poor boy’s pale face could barely be seen as he lay on his bed waiting for relief.

"Well, well, it is a sad situation; and it can be fixed easily since Fay is so enthusiastic about it. I hope the guy is exactly what she claims, and there’s nothing contagious about his illness. Nanna can fill me in."

Then he pulled back his head and, guiding Fay to the seat, sat her on his lap, all flushed, dirty, and tearful as she was, comforting her by saying gently,--

"Now tell me everything, and I promise I won't forget. What can I do to make you happy, dear, before you bring the whole place crashing down on me?"

Then Fay told her story all over again; and since he was no longer occupied, her father found it very moving, with her dear, dirty little face looking up at him, and her wounded hands clasped desperately as she begged for poor Johnny.

"God bless your kind heart, kid; you’ll have him in here tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can do for those poor legs of his. But listen, Fay, I have an easier way to handle it than you do, and a big surprise for the boy. Time is tight, but we can make it happen; and to prove I'm serious, I’ll go right now and start the work. Go wash your face while I put on my boots, and then we’ll head out together."

At these words, Fay wrapped her arms around Dad's neck and showered him with grateful kisses, pausing in the middle to ask,--

"Seriously, now?"

"See if it isn't true." And setting her down, dad walked away quickly, while she ran after him, laughing, all her doubts calmed by his positive energy.

If Johnny hadn't been sleeping in the back room, he would have seen some strange and delightful things that afternoon and evening; because something happened in the yard that made his mom happy, entertained the artist, and made Fay the happiest kid in Boston. No one was supposed to say anything until the next day, so Johnny's surprise would be completely perfect, and Mrs. Morris stayed up until eleven to fix his old clothes; since Fay's dad had come to see her and got interested in the boy, as anyone would, seeing his patient little face.

So hammers rang, trowels scraped, shovels dug, and amazing changes happened, while Fay danced around in the moonlight, like Puck focused on some charming mischief, and dad quoted Snout,[#] the tinker's final words, fitting for the moment,--

"So, I've done my part, wall;

And now, with that, the wall is leaving."

[#] A character in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

PART III.

A beautiful Sunday morning started with not a cloud in sight; even in the dreary courtyard, the May sunshine felt warm, and the spring breezes blew in fresh from the distant green fields. Johnny asked to go outside; and since he was feeling much better, his mom agreed, helping him get dressed with a cheerful expression and eager hands, which made the boy say innocently,--

"How happy you are when I bounce back from a tough time! I can't imagine what you would do if I ever got better."

"My poor dear, I’m starting to believe you will feel better now that the nice weather is here and you have a little friend to play with. God bless her!"

Why his mom suddenly hugged him tightly and then brushed his hair so gently, with tears in her eyes, he didn’t understand; but he was in such a rush to leave that he could only give her a quick kiss and hobble away to check on how his gallery did after the rain and take a happy glance at the magical garden.

Mrs. Morris stayed right behind him, and it was a good thing she did; he almost fell over in shock when he saw the old familiar wall after the good fairies Love and Pity had worked their lovely miracle in the moonlight.

The torn hole had transformed into a small arched door, painted red. On either side were green pots, each holding a tall oleander in full bloom; from the arch above hung a large bunch of cheerful flowers; and in front of the threshold was a letter addressed to "Signor Giovanni Morris," written in a child’s handwriting.

As soon as he got over the wonderful surprise of this amazing transformation, Johnny settled into his chair, which had a soft cushion, and read his note, letting out small sighs of delight at the lovely possibility unfolding before him.

DEAR GIOVANNI, --Dad has made this nice gate, so you can come in whenever you want without getting tired. We’ll have two keys, and no one else can open it. A little bell will ring when we pull the cord, and we can run to see what we need. The paint is still wet. Dad did it, and the workers put up the door last night. I helped them and didn’t get to bed until ten. It was really fun to do it that way. I hope you’ll like it. Come in as soon as you can; I’m all ready.

"Mom, she has to be a real fairy to do all that, doesn't she?" said Johnny, leaning back to look at the sweet door behind which so much happiness awaited him.

"Yes, my dear, she’s the perfect kind of good fairy, and I really wish I could do her laundry out of love for the rest of her wonderful little life," replied Mrs. Morris, with genuine enthusiasm.

"You will! You will! Please come in! I can't wait another minute!" cried an excited little voice as the red door swung open; and there stood Fay, looking just like a happy elf in her fresh white dress, a wreath of spring flowers in her beautiful hair, and a tall green wand in her hand, while the bright bird perched on her shoulder, and the little white dog danced around her feet.

"So she invites you to come in,

With a dimple in your chin,

Billy boy, Billy boy,"

sang the child, recalling how much Johnny enjoyed that song; and waving her wand, she stepped slowly backward as the boy, with a beaming face, walked under the blooming arch into a new world, filled with sunshine, freedom, and delightful companionship.

Neither Johnny nor his mom ever forgot that happy day, because it marked the start of support and hope for both of them just when life felt toughest and the future seemed bleakest.

Papa stayed out of sight but enjoyed sneaking glances at the little party as they sat under the chestnuts. Nanna and Fay welcomed the guests with Italian grace and skill, while the tired mother folded her hands in deep contentment, and the boy looked like a joyful soul in heaven.

Sabbath silence, interrupted only by the sound of bells and the footsteps of church-goers, hung over the city; sunlight cast golden shadows on the grass; the gentle breeze carried spring scents from the woods; and every flower appeared to sway and invite, as if welcoming a new friend to their beautiful home.

While the women chatted, Fay took Johnny on a tour of her little world, showing him all her favorite spots, making him take breaks on the benches scattered around, and entertaining him greatly with stories about the imaginative games she played to pass the time.

"Now we can have much nicer ones; you'll tell me yours, and we can do amazing things," she said after showing off her big rocking horse, her grotto filled with ferns, her pretend sea where a fleet of toy boats was anchored in the basin of an old fountain, her fairy land under the lilacs with paper elves sitting among the leaves, her swing that sent you high up among the green branches, and the basket of white kittens, where Topaz, the yellow-eyed cat, now purred with motherly pride. Books were stacked on the rustic table, along with all the pictures Fay thought were worth seeing.

Here also was a lovely lunch, before the visitors realized it was noon and had to pull themselves away. Johnny had never tasted such amazing grapes and oranges; such delightful little tarts and Italian dishes of all kinds; even the bread and butter felt special because it was served on a plate decorated with leaves and cut into nice little pieces. The coffee that filled the air with its aroma lifted the spirits of poor Mrs. Morris, who barely ate so that the boy could have enough; and he drank milk until Nanna said, laughing, as she refilled the pitcher,--

"He takes more than both the blessed lambs we used to feed for Saint Agnes at the convent back home. And he is truly welcome, the dear child, to the best we have; for he is as innocent and helpless as they are."

"What does she mean?" Johnny whispered to Fay, a bit embarrassed for having forgotten his manners after enjoying three big mugs of delicious milk.

So, sitting in the big rustic chair next to him, Fay shared the charming story of the lambs dedicated to Saint Agnes, with ribbons tied to their fluffy white wool. They were raised with care until their fleece was sheared to make garments for the Pope. It was a perfect story for the occasion, the child thought, and continued to talk about the wonders of Rome until Johnny's mind was filled with a delightful mix of new ideas, where Saint Peter's, apple tarts, holy lambs, and red doors, along with ancient images and sweet little girls, were all wonderfully intertwined. It felt like a fairy tale, and everything seemed possible and beautiful on that unforgettable day.

So when Fay's dad finally showed up, unable to stay away from the cheerful little gathering any longer, Johnny immediately decided that the handsome man in the velvet coat was the king of the enchanted land and looked at him with admiration and awe. He turned out to be a very gracious king; after chatting nicely with Mrs. Morris and teasing Fay about storming the walls, he suggested carrying Johnny off. He picked him up and walked away with the amazed boy on his shoulder while the little girl danced ahead to open doors and clear the path.

Johnny thought he couldn't be surprised anymore; but after climbing several stairs and finding himself in a huge room with a glass roof, filled with lavish curtains, unusual armor, beautiful things, and pictures everywhere, he just sat in the big chair where he was placed and stared in silent amazement.

"This is Dad's studio, and that's the famous picture, and this is where I work; isn't it nice? Aren't you happy to see it?" said Fay, skipping around to show off the place.

"I don't think heaven is more beautiful," Johnny replied softly, his gaze shifting from the green treetops peeking in the windows to the bright sunny image of a Roman garden, with adorable kids playing among the crumbling statues and fountains.

"I'm glad you like it, because we plan to have you over a lot. I often sit with Dad and get really tired; you can talk to me, and then you can watch me draw and work with clay, and then we'll go into the garden, and Nanna will show you how to make baskets, and then we'll play."

Johnny nodded and smiled at this appealing idea, and for an hour, he explored the mysteries of the studio, with Fay as his guide and dad as an amused spectator. He liked the boy more and more and was glad that Fay had such a harmless playmate to share her energy and compassion with. He agreed to every plan suggested and genuinely hoped to help these poor neighbors because he had a kind heart and loved his little daughter even more than his art.

When Mrs. Morris finally mustered the courage to call Johnny away, he left without saying anything and laid down in the shabby room, his face still glowing with the happy thoughts that filled his mind, craving those kinds of pleasures that he had never experienced before.

After that day, everything went smoothly, and both kids thrived like the flowers in that lovely garden, where the magic of love and compassion, fresh air, and sunshine soon worked wonders. Fay learned patience and kindness from Johnny; he grew stronger every day on the better food Nanna provided and the exercise he was encouraged to take. They both enjoyed happy days working and playing, sometimes under the trees, where they made pretty baskets, or in the studio, where their little hands shaped graceful things in clay or painted incredible pictures with the artist's old brushes and discarded canvases.

Mrs. Morris washed everything that could be washed in the house and tidied up Fay's dresses so neatly that she looked more like an elf than ever when her head peeked out from the fluted frills, like the yellow center of a daisy surrounded by its white petals.

As he watched the kids playing together, the artist, not working on anything major, sketched them a few times and then had a great idea to paint the garden scene where Fay first talked to Johnny. It inspired him, and the little ones posed nicely for him; so he created a delightful piece, including the cat, dog, bird, and toad as the different characters from Shakespeare's beautiful play, while the flowers were the elves, peeking and listening in all sorts of cheerful, cute ways.

He called it "Little Pyramus and Thisbe," and it so impressed a wealthy woman that she paid a high price for it; then, finding out that it was based on a true story, she kindly contributed enough to send Johnny and his mom to the countryside when Fay and her dad were set to go.

But it was a more beautiful place than the boy had ever read about in his fairy tales, and a happier life than fixing shoes in the gloomy alley. In the autumn, they all set off cheerfully together, to spend years in sunny Italy, where Johnny grew tall and strong, and learned to paint with a kind teacher and a loyal young friend, who was always grateful that she found and rescued him, thanks to the amazing hole in the wall.

X.

The Piggy Girl.

"I won't be washed! I won't be washed!" screamed little Betty, kicking and hitting the maid who was undressing her one night.

"You'd better go live with the pigs, you filthy child," said Maria, scrubbing at two very dirty hands.

"I wish I could! I love being dirty—I'm going to be dirty!" Betty yelled, throwing the sponge out the window and the soap under the table.

Maria couldn't do anything with her, so she tucked her into bed still half-wiped, telling her to go to sleep immediately.

"I won't! I'll go and live with Mrs. Gleason's pigs, and do nothing but eat, sleep, roll in the dirt, and never, ever get washed again," Betty said to herself.

She lay there thinking about it and watching the moon for a while; then she got up quietly and sneaked down the back stairs, through the garden, to the pigpen where two cute little pigs were sound asleep in their small house. They just grunted when Betty snuck into a corner, giggling at how much fun it would be to play piggy and live here with no Maria to wash her and no protective mom constantly saying,--

"Put on a clean apron, honey!"

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of Mrs. Gleason pouring milk into the trough. She stayed very still until the woman left; then she crept out, drank as much as she wanted, and took the best bits of cold potatoes and bread for breakfast, while the lazy pigs didn’t get up until she was finished. As they ate and rummaged in the dirt, Betty slept as long as she wanted, with no school, no errands, and no patchwork to do. She enjoyed it and kept hidden until night; then she went home, opened the small window in the store closet, and climbed in to grab as many good things to eat and take away as she wanted. She had a nice walk in her nightgown, saw the flowers asleep, heard the little birds chirping in their nests, and watched the fireflies and moths playing around. The only ones who saw her were the cats; they played with her, hopped at her toes in the moonlight, and had a great time.

When she felt tired, she would sleep with the pigs and snooze all the next day, only coming out to eat and drink when the milk and leftover scraps were brought to her. Mrs. Gleason took great care of her pigs, giving them clean straw frequently and keeping them as comfortable as possible.

Betty lived this strange way for a long time and soon looked more like a pig than a little girl; her nightgown got dirty, her hair was never brushed, her face was never washed, and she loved to dig in the mud until her hands looked like paws. She never talked but started to grunt like the pigs, burrowed into the straw to sleep, squealed when they crowded her, and fought over food, eating with her nose in the trough like a real pig. At first, she would sneak around at night and steal food; people set traps to catch the thief in their gardens, and the cook in her own house complained about the rats that took the cakes and pies from her pantry. But eventually, she got too lazy and fat to care about anything but sleeping and eating, and never left the sty. Now she crawled on her hands and knees and began to wonder if a little tail might grow and her nose change into a snout.

All summer, she had fun pretending to be a pig, but when autumn arrived, it got cold, and she started missing her cozy flannel nightgown. She grew tired of cold food and began to wish for a warm fire and some delicious buckwheat cakes to eat. She felt embarrassed to go home and wondered what she would do after this silly adventure. She asked the pigs how they handled winter, but they just grunted, and she couldn't recall what happened to them since the pen was always empty during the cold months.

One terrible night she discovered the truth. She was hidden between the big, fat pigs to stay warm; but her toes were freezing, and as she tried to pull the straw over them, she heard Mr. Gleason say to his son,--

"We need to kill those pigs tomorrow. They're fat enough, so come help me sharpen the big knife."

"Oh no, what will happen to me?" thought Betty as she heard the grindstone turning over and over, sharpening the knife more and more. "I look so much like a pig that they’ll probably kill me too and turn me into sausages if I don’t escape. I'm done with playing piggy, and I’d rather get cleaned a hundred times a day than be stuffed into a pork barrel."

So she lay shaking until morning; then she ran through the garden and found the back door open. It was very early, and no one saw her, because the cook was in the shed getting wood for her fire; so Betty quietly went upstairs to the nursery and was about to jump into bed when she caught a glimpse in the mirror of an ugly black figure, all rags and dirt, with messy hair and a little round nose covered in mud.

"Could it be me?" she said. "How awful I am!" And she couldn't ruin her nice white bed, so she jumped into the bathtub and gave herself a good scrub. Next, she put on a clean nightgown, brushed her hair, trimmed her long nails, and looked like a neat little girl again.

Then she lay down in her cozy crib with the pink cover and the lace curtains, and fell fast asleep, happy to have clean sheets, soft blankets, and her own little pillow again.

"Come on, sweetie, wake up and check out the new dress I got for you, along with the cute ruffled apron. It's Thanksgiving, and all the cousins are coming over for dinner," her mom said, giving her a gentle kiss on the rosy cheek.

Betty screamed,--

"Don't kill me! Oh, please don't! I'm not really a pig, I'm a little girl; and if you let me go home, I promise I'll never complain about being washed again."

"What is the sweet child scared of?" said mom, hugging her tightly and laughing as she watched Betty look around frantically for the fat pigs and the musty pigpen.

She told her mom all about the strange time she had, and was really surprised to hear her mom say,--

"It was all just a dream, dear; you’ve been sound asleep in your little bed ever since you slapped poor Maria last night."

"Well, I'm glad I dreamed it because it made me love being clean. Come on, Maria, soap and scrub as much as you want; I won't kick and scream anymore," cried Betty, skipping around, happy to be safe in her nice home and no longer a dirty, lazy piggy girl.

THE THREE FROGS.

Hop, Croak, and Splash were three little frogs that lived in a nice river and had a great time swimming around or hopping on the green grass. At night, they would sit on the bank and sing together, which they thought sounded really sweet; and if boats passed by, they would dive into the water, flipping over with plenty of splashes and noise.

Hop wasn’t happy with this quiet life; he wanted to explore the world and kept asking his brother Croak to travel with him.

"I'm tired of messing around in this boring river, with nothing to do but play leapfrog and sing. I want to see what's over that hill, and I'm going to find out. You can stick around and nap in the mud if you want. I've got more energy than that, and I'm leaving."

So away went Hop, singing happily,--

"A frog went out to find a mate,

Whether his mom would allow it or not,

With a roll and a laugh, and some greens,

Heigh-ho, said Anthony Rowley."

 

His sweet little sister Splash begged him to stay because the world was full of danger and he was too young to go alone. But Hop told her not to worry. Girls should stay at home because they couldn't take care of themselves; but young guys should experience life before they settled down. His friend Turtle had invited him to go, and if someone as slow as Creeper could start a journey, then the best jumper in the river would be just fine.

While he was saying goodbye, the turtle had crawled up the bank and was already on his way to the road ahead. Hop hopped after him; and when they reached the top of the hill, they stopped to rest—Creeper in the road on the warm sand, and Hop among some daisies nearby.

"Wow, this world is huge!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed; he had never seen houses before, and the village seemed just as impressive to him as London would to us. "I really like it, and I know I’m going to have an amazing time. Let’s go, slowpoke! I see some fountains over there, and I want a drink."

Just as he was talking, a cart rolled by; and before poor Creeper could move out of the way, a wheel ran over him, killing him instantly.

"Have mercy! Those are some terrifying monsters!" shouted Hop, jumping as fast as he could into a nearby garden, where he lay trembling and half out of his mind with fear. He thought the cart was a creature, and every time he heard the rumble of wheels, his heart raced, and he clasped his hands in fear while sitting under the burdock leaves. Finally, when it seemed quiet, he ventured out and had a great time in the nasturtium bed, catching flies and playing peek-a-boo with a little bird. Then he hopped over to the grass patch, where the sprinkler was whirling around, and took a refreshing bath. He was just puffing out his skin and winking with pleasure when a fat toad, who lived under the porch, grumpily told him to "get lost."

"You are a really rude old person, and I'm going to do what I want. This isn't your garden, so you don’t need to stare at me," replied cheeky Hop, laughing at the toad, who was so fat he couldn't jump as far as the lively frog.

"Alright, you little pest, I'll get the cat; and she'll make you jump, unless you want that nice green jacket ripped off your back by her sharp claws," said the toad, slowly hopping over to the sunny spot where a gray cat was napping.

"Pooh! I'm not scared," said Hop; because he had never seen a cat and thought the toad was just making it all up.

So, he took a casual stroll down the path, looking around as if he owned the whole garden. Soon, he spotted a cute little creature playing with leaves and hurried over to talk to it, eager to make friends in this lovely place. You see, when the toad told the cat about the newcomer, she just stared and then went back to sleep, not interested in playing with anyone. But the kitten lying next to her was curious about seeing a frog, so she immediately ran off to find him. Hop didn’t realize this was the cat’s daughter until she pounced on him like he was a mouse, and instead of playing some fun game and sharing stories about the new world as Hop had hoped, she scratched and bit him, tossed him up, and let him thud down hard on the ground. He tried to escape, but she let him hop a bit before pouncing again, swatting him with her paws and dragging him around until he was half dead.

He believed the old toad now and thought the end of the world had come. It would have been the end of the world for him if a dog hadn't bounced into the garden and scared the cat up a tree, spitting and glaring like a little dragon. Poor Hop crawled under a gooseberry bush and lay there wishing for gentle Splash to bandage his wounds and soothe his pain with spearmint from the riverbank and a cool lily pad as a wet sheet to wrap him in.

"It’s a terrible world, and I wish I were safe at home," he sighed, as the sun got hotter, the water was turned off, and the wind stopped blowing.

But he was too weak to hop away and lay there panting until night when a rainstorm saved his life. Early the next morning, he set out to find the river before he got into any more trouble.

He moved very slowly, limping and in pain; but he got out of the garden and was just about to make a huge leap over the road, worried he might get crushed like Creeper did, when he heard a soft rustling behind him and saw a long, slender gray creature with bright eyes and a little tongue that flicked in and out like a flash.

"I don't see any sharp claws, so it can't be a cat," thought Hop, feeling nervous about making new friends.

"Hey there, come here and chat with me," hissed the snake, eager to eat the cute little frog.

Hop felt pretty anxious, but wanted to be polite; so he let the stranger wrap around him and look directly into his face while listening to the sad story he eagerly shared. Soon he realized he couldn't move at all, nor could he shift his gaze from the fiery eyes in front of him, and the flicking tongue looked like it was about to sting. Then he got scared and tried to get away; but he could only jump once, as the snake grabbed him by the back legs and held him tight while swallowing him slowly.

"Help, help!" yelled Hop, in despair. "Croak! Splash! oh, come and rescue me, rescue me!"

But there was no help; and in a few moments there was no frog, because the last leg had disappeared down the snake's throat. Poor little Hop!

Croak was a loud guy who made a lot of noise trying to sing louder than the other frogs. He was really proud of his voice and would sit on a log at night saying, "Ker honk! ker honk!" until everyone got sick of hearing him.

The elders advised him not to strain his voice until it was stronger, but he believed they were jealous of its power and sweetness, so he shouted even louder than before.

The boys who came to the river to swim would tease him, trying to figure out which frog was croaking so loudly. This made him happy; and instead of staying quiet and hanging out with his friends, silly Croak went and perched on a rock by himself, so everyone could see and hear the great singer.

"Now," said the boys, "we can catch him and keep him in a tub; and when we're tired of his noise we can hit him on the head and make him be quiet."

So while the conceited frog sat croaking as loud as he could, two of the boys swam up to the rock and tossed a net over him. He kicked and fought back, but they had him secured and wrapped him up until they reached the tub, where they left him with a bit of grass, saying,--

"Now go ahead and sing, my friend, and relax."

But Croak couldn’t sing; he was too scared and unhappy. He was hungry and tired, and they didn’t give him the right food or any mossy log to rest on. They poked him with sticks, picked him up to check out his funny toes, opened his big mouth, and held him by one leg to see him kick. He tried to climb out, but the sides of the tub were slippery, so he had to give up. He kept swimming and floating until he was worn out and ate bread-crumbs and grass to avoid starving, but he was very miserable, even though kids came to listen to him sing, and he had nothing else to do.

"This isn't what I meant," sighed Croak, "and if I ever get out of this old tub, I’ll stay quiet and never try to make a sound in the world again."

Among the children was a kind little girl who felt sorry for the poor frog. One day, when she was alone, she gently picked him up and placed him on the grass, saying,--

"Run away, little frog, back to your mom, and don't tell the guys I let you go."

"Thanks, my dear; those troublemakers will never see or hear from me again," replied Croak, hopping off as quickly as he could, not caring in his rush that he wasn't headed towards the river.

After he had traveled for a long time, he arrived at a pond where a lot of frogs seemed to be enjoying themselves; there was plenty of food, stones to sit on, and fresh water flowing in constantly.

"Wow! These people must be really classy to live like this. They sing quite well, but none of them have a rich, deep voice like mine. I’ll jump in and wow them with my best song," said Croak, after he had watched and listened for a while.

If he had only known that those frogs were kept there to be fattened for an old French guy to eat, he would have hopped away and saved himself; but he was so eager to show off his voice that he jumped and splashed into the tank, startling the others and creating a big commotion. He loved that; and climbing onto the highest stone, he treated them to his favorite "Ker honk" song, filling the air with the sound.

The other frogs were really impressed because they thought it was great music; so they gathered around, shook hands, and welcomed the newcomer, convinced he must be a talented musician since he acted so important. Now Croak was enjoying his moment, puffing himself up and staring at the lady frogs until they raised their green fans to hide their smiles. The younger frogs tried to copy him, and soon the tank was so noisy that the old gentleman said to his cook,--

"Kill a dozen of the fattest ones for dinner, and quiet down that noise out there."

The frogs had told Croak that every once in a while, some of them were selected to go and live in the big house, and they were all excited to learn what good luck had befallen their friends, since none ever returned to share the unfortunate reality. So when they saw the man in the white cap and apron come to the tank and look down at them, they all started to jump and dance, hoping to be picked.

With a long-handled net, the cook scooped up the fattest ones and put them in a covered bucket until he had collected a dozen. Croak hadn't been around long enough to get really fat, so he would have gotten away this time if he had stayed quiet. But he couldn't keep his mouth shut and made such a terrible racket that the cook said,--

"I have to catch that troublemaker and calm him down, or my boss is going to go crazy." So he kept the net open; and that foolish frog jumped in, completely unaware that he had sung his final song.

"Now we're about to see some great things. Goodbye, you poor souls! Just hang in there until it's your turn," he shouted, as the bucket was taken away to the kitchen.

Croak was let down when he saw nothing but pots and pans and a huge fire; he foolishly thought he was meant to perform for some fancy guests. But his disappointment quickly turned to horror when he watched his friends being taken out one by one and their little legs chopped off to fry for dinner. That was the only part the cook used, while the rest was tossed aside. Croak was left for last, as he wasn’t going to be eaten; and while he waited for his turn, he dashed around the bucket, desperately trying to escape and croaking so pathetically that it was surprising the cook didn’t feel sorry for him. But he didn’t, and just as he approached the bucket with a big knife in his hand, the old gentleman came down to check if his orders were being followed, as he valued his dinner highly. All the poor little legs were laid out in the pan, ready to be cooked; and he was so pleased that he remarked, looking at the thin frog swimming around so energetically,--

"Ah! this is quite an energetic character. I'll put him in my aquarium; I think the goldfish and the crab will enjoy some company."

Then, grabbing Croak by one leg, he carried him upstairs and tossed him into the big glass box where several pretty goldfish and one grumpy crab lived together. Croak was so relieved to avoid being cooked that he became very quiet, humble, and good; and even though his new home was a prison, he tried to be happy and never complained when the lovely fish called him ugly and the grumpy crab pinched his toes. He felt homesick and sadly missed the nice river, the fun games he used to play, and his dear little sister. He stopped singing, fearing he might be killed if he did; but when the windows were open through the summer night and he heard the music of his friends, he covered his face with his hands and cried such bitter tears that the water became quite salty. He endured it as long as he could; but eventually, his heart broke, and one day poor Croak was found floating at the top of the tank, completely dead. So that was the end of him.

Good little Splash lived at home, safe and happy, and was so kind to everyone that her neighbors loved her dearly and sang her praises at their evening concerts.

Now, the Frog Prince wanted to get married and was searching for a wife because he had high standards. So he covered himself in a cloak made of dead leaves, put an empty nut shell on his head as a hood, and leaning on a bulrush staff, hobbled along the river like a poor old woman, going from house to house to see how the lady frogs acted at home.

When he rode out as the Prince on a field mouse, with flags waving and his entire court surrounding him, the young lady frogs stood beside their mothers, all dressed up, and curtsied sweetly as he passed by. But when he reached the back doors, he found a different scene. Some were lazy, sleeping late in their beds of river weeds while their mothers handled all the chores; some were greedy, gobbling up all the best flies for themselves; others were busy yelling at their little brothers and sisters instead of taking care of them; and most were pretty vain. The Prince caught many of them checking their bright eyes in still pools, or wearing crowns made of water flowers, or splashing in dew to keep freckles off their faces. They were always ready to dance at parties, go boating, or sing at concerts where everyone could hear them; but very few were busy, kind, and responsible at home, and the Prince didn’t find the bride he was looking for. He loved music, so he listened to the concerts and soon started to wonder why they all sang a song with this chorus,--

"Who is the most beautiful swimmer in our river?

Who is the cutest frog in the sunshine?

Whose life is filled with the sweetest adventures?

Who is our busiest, happiest one?

Splash, Splash, lovely thing!

Everyone delights in singing her praise."

 

"I have to find this beautiful creature and see if she’s really as amazing as they say, because if she is, I’ll make her a princess in no time," said the Prince; and he went off to search for Splash, since he was a very active frog.

He quickly found her, as she was always occupied doing something for her neighbors; he watched her teaching the little tadpoles to swim, helping the old frogs sit in the sun when the damp weather gave them arthritis, taking care of the sick ones, feeding the needy, or running errands for busy moms with big families and lazy daughters.

In her small home, everything was perfectly tidy, but it felt so lonely that she didn't like to spend much time there. All day long, she helped others, and in the evening, she would sit at her door and sadly think about her lost brothers. She was quite beautiful in her neat gray dress and white apron, with her bright eyes, gentle face, and sweet voice; although she rarely sang, except for lullabies to the little frogs and the sick people.

She was gently rocking a tiny tadpole to sleep one day when the disguised Prince came limping by and asked for something to eat. Placing little Wiggle in his cobweb hammock, Splash said kindly,--

"Yes, mom, come in and take a break while I prepare some dinner for you. Here’s a soft moss cushion, and a fresh spring leaf for water."

The Prince sat for a long time chatting with her, learning about her brothers, and noticing how sweet she was. He decided he wanted to marry her right away; frogs don’t take a long time or spend a lot of money preparing—they just clean their green and gray outfits and invite their friends to the wedding. The bride can always find a fine cobweb on the grass for a veil, and that's all she needs.

The Prince thought he would give it one more shot, so he said to her,--

"I'm really lame; will you take me to the palace? I want to see the Prince. Do you know him?"

"No; I'm just a simple being, and he wouldn't be interested in getting to know me," said Splash, humbly. "But I admire him a lot; he's so brave, fair, and kind. I love watching him pass by, and I always peek behind my curtain—he's such an amazing sight."

The Prince blushed under the nut-shell cap at such praise, and was sure, from the way Splash spoke, that she loved him a little bit. So he was very happy and wanted to dance, but kept quiet and leaned on her arm as she led him down the bank, set him comfortably on a lily-pad, and rowed away, smiling at him and talking so sweetly that he became more and more fond of her every moment.

At last, they arrived at the palace, which was entirely made of white water lilies, with red cardinal flowers as flags, green moss for floors, and pink toadstool tables set with acorn cups filled with honey, berries, and all the treats that frogs enjoy; the Prince had sent a telegram through the wind to have a feast prepared.

"Come in. I have something for you as a thank you for your kindness to me. I'm not what I appear to be, and soon you'll find out who your new friend is," said the Prince, leading her into the great hall where the throne was.

Then he left her, thinking about what would happen next, as he rushed to take off his old clothes and put on his green velvet suit, his crown of cowslip, and the tall rush that served as his scepter. He looked magnificent, with white silk stockings on his long legs, his bright eyes shining, and his speckled waistcoat puffed out with the joy in his heart.

The trumpets blared; all the frogs of the court came marching in, with the Prince leading the way; and when they were seated at the tables, he grabbed astonished Splash by the hand and said in a loud voice,--

"This is your Queen—the best and the most beautiful in the land! Bring the wedding veil; let the bells ring, and shout with me, 'Hurrah! Hurrah for Queen Splash!'"

BAA! BAA!

BAA THE FIRST.

They didn't look like heroines at all, those two shabby little girls, as they ran down the hill, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Their bare feet were scratched and brown, their hands were stained red from berries, and their freckled faces glowed with heat under their flapping sunbonnets. But Patty and Tilda were about to do something impressive, even though they didn't realize it at the time, and they were wrapped up in their own small things as they made their way to the station to sell berries.

The words flew as quickly as the feet; this was a big adventure, and both of them were really pumped about it.

"Don't they look beautiful?" Tilda said, proudly looking over her sister's load as she took a moment to switch a heavy bucket from one arm to the other.

"Perfectly delicious! I know people will buy them if we're not too afraid to sell them," Patty replied, pausing to adjust the two dozen small birch baskets full of red raspberries that she carried, beautifully arranged on an old tray decorated with scarlet bunchberries, white everlasting flowers, and green leaves.

"I won't be. I'll just go right along and shout really loud—just watch. I’m determined to get our books and boots for next winter, so keep imagining how nice they'll be and keep moving forward," said tough-minded Tilda, the leader of the expedition.

"Hurry up. I want to have time to arrange the flowers so they'll look fresh when the train arrives. I hope there are a lot of kids on it; they always want to eat, Mom says."

"It was really unfair of Elviry Morris to go and offer to sell for less at the hotel than we did, ruining our business. I bet she'll regret this once we share what we've accomplished down here." Both kids laughed happily as they walked along, not caring about the two hot, dusty miles ahead of them.

The station was located outside the village, and the long trains bringing summer travelers to the mountains stopped there once a day to connect with coaches heading to various destinations. It was a nice place, with a large pond on one side, dense forests on the other, and in the distance, you could see gray peaks or green hills inviting the tired city folks to come and relax.

Everyone seemed happy to get out during the ten-minute break, even though their journey wasn't over yet; and while they stood around, enjoying the fresh air from the pond or watching the stages get loaded up, Tilda and Patty planned to offer their tempting little baskets of fresh fruit and flowers. It was a big effort, and their hearts raced with childish hope and fear as they approached the station, with no one around except the cheerful stage drivers relaxing in the shade.

"There's plenty of time. Let's head to the pond to wash off the dust and grab a drink. Nobody will spot us behind those cars," Tilda said, happy to be out of sight until the train showed up; even her bravery seemed to fade as the big moment got closer.

A long cattle train was sitting on a side track, waiting for the other train to pass. While the little girls splashed their feet in the cool water or drank from their hands, a heartbreaking noise filled the air. Hundreds of sheep, crammed into the cars and suffering from dust, heat, and thirst, pushed their poor noses through the bars, bleating frantically. The sight of all that water so close yet out of reach drove them crazy. Those farther down the track, who couldn't see the blue lake, could smell it and joined in the cry until the woods echoed with it. Even the indifferent drivers glanced over with pity,—

"Feels rough for the poor animals on such a hot day, doesn't it?"

"Oh, Tilda, listen to them baa, and look at them crowding this side to get to the water! Let's bring them some in our picking dishes. It's so awful to be thirsty," said kind-hearted Patty, filling her pint cup and rushing to offer it to the nearest sad nose reaching for it. A dozen thirsty tongues tried to lap it up, and in the struggle, the little cup was quickly emptied; but Patty ran for more, and Tilda did the same, both getting so caught up in the suffering of the poor animals that they didn't even hear the distant whistle of their train and kept running back and forth on their mission of kindness, oblivious to their tired feet, flushed faces, and the precious flowers wilting in the sun.

They didn’t notice a group of people sitting nearby under the trees, who watched them and listened to their excited conversation with smiling interest.

"Run, Patty; this poor little one is half dead. Splash some water on his face while I make this big one stop walking on him. Oh no! There are so many! We can’t help everyone, and our mugs are so small!"

"I know what I'm going to do, Tilda—I'll pour the berries into my apron and bring up a good batch all at once," exclaimed Patty, nearly overwhelmed with sympathy.

"It will ruin your apron and squash the berries, but that’s okay. I’m fine with not selling a single one if we can help these poor little lambs," replied enthusiastic Tilda, rushing into the pond up to her ankles to fill the bucket, while Patty gathered the fruit in her checked apron.

"Oh, my patience! The train is coming!" shouted Patty, as a loud whistle cut through the air, and the sound of rumbling grew nearer.

"Let it come. I won't leave this sheep until it's better. You go and sell the first batch; I'll come as fast as I can," Tilda insisted, so focused on reviving the tired animal that she couldn't pause even to start the exciting new plan.

"I can't go by myself; you come and shout, and I'll keep the waiter busy," said poor Patty, looking really frightened as the long train passed by with a head at every window.

"Don't be silly. Stay here and work, and I'll go sell every basket. I'm so upset about these poor things, I'm not scared of anyone," shouted Tilda, with one last invigorating splash among the few lucky sheep, as she grabbed the tray and headed off to the platform— a very hot, wet, shabby little girl, but filled with the righteous anger and tender compassion that address half the injustices in this big world.

"Oh, Mom, look at the beautiful baskets! Please buy some, I'm so thirsty and tired," exclaimed more than one eager little traveler, as Tilda held up her tray, calling out bravely,--

"Fresh berries! Fresh berries! Ten cents! Only ten cents!"

They were all gone in ten minutes, and if Patty had been with her, the pail might have been emptied before the train left. But the other little Samaritan was hard at work, and when her sister joined her, proudly showing a handful of coins, she was even prouder to show her woolly invalid weakly nibbling grass from her hand.

"We could have sold them all—people really liked them a lot; next time, we’ll bring two dozen baskets each. But we need to be quick because some of the kids take their time picking out the one they want. It’s so much fun, Patty," Tilda said, tying up the precious dimes in a corner of her shabby little handkerchief.

"So's this," the other replied, giving her patient one last affectionate pat on the nose as the train started to move. Cars filled with suffering sheep passed by, their plaintive cries and desperate attempts to reach the precious water they so desperately needed.

Poor Patty couldn't take it anymore. She was hot, tired, and unhappy because she felt so helpless; and when her sympathetic eyes lost sight of that load of misery, she just sat down and cried.

But Tilda scolded as she carefully put the unsold berries back into the pail, still unaware of the people behind the elder bushes by the pond.

"That's the most wicked thing ever! I wish I were a man so I could do something about it. I’d lock all the railroad people in those cars and keep them there for hours and hours, passing by ponds all the while. I'd have ice cream where they couldn't get any, and tons of fans, while other people stayed cool and comfortable, not bothering about how hot and tired and thirsty they were. Yes, I would! Then we'd see how they like it."

Here, furious Tilda had to pause to catch her breath and refreshed herself by licking berry juice off her fingers.

"We have to do something about it. I can't be happy thinking about those poor little lambs going so long without any water. It's terrible to be dry," Patty sobbed, drinking her own tears as they fell.

"If I had a hose, I'd come every day and spray down all the cars; that would help. Anyway, we'll bring the other big bucket and water as much as we can," said Tilda, whose active mind was always ready with a plan.

"Then we won't sell our berries," Patty said sadly, because everything around her felt heavy with the sight she had just witnessed.

"We'll get there earlier and both work really hard until our train arrives. Then I'll sell, and you can keep watering with both buckets. It’s tough work, but we can switch off. What are we going to do with all these berries? The ones on the bottom are crushed, so we can eat those; but these are good, just who’s going to buy them?" Tilda looked seriously at the ruined apron and the four quarts of raspberries they had picked with such care in the hot sun.

"I will," said a cheerful voice; and a young woman stepped out from the bushes just like the good fairy appears to the girls in old stories.

Both little girls jumped and stared, and felt completely confused when other heads appeared, and a heavyset man came toward them, smiling so warmly that they weren't scared.

"We're having a picnic in the woods and would love to buy those nice berries for our dinner, if you're willing to sell them," said the lady, holding out a lovely basket.

"Yes, ma'am, we do. You can have them all. They're a bit squished, so we’ll only ask for ten cents a quart, even though we expected to sell them for twelve," said Tilda, who was a true Yankee and always had an eye on business.

"What do you charge for watering the sheep?" asked the heavyset man, glancing kindly at Patty, who immediately withdrew into the depths of her sun bonnet, like a snail retreating into its shell.

"Nothing, sir. Wasn't it awful to see those poor creatures? That’s what made her cry. She's really tender-hearted, and she couldn’t handle it; so we left the berries and did what we could," replied Tilda, with such an earnest little face that it looked pretty despite the tan, freckles, and dust.

"Yes, it was really sad, and we need to do something about it. Here's some money for the berries, and for the water too." The gentleman casually tossed a shiny half-dollar into Tilda's lap and another into Patty's, as if he was used to throwing cash around like that.

The little girls didn't know what to say to him, but they smiled brightly at everyone and looked at the beautiful silver pieces as if they were really valuable to them.

"What are you going to do with them?" asked the lady in the friendly tone that always gets a quick response.

"Oh, we’re saving up to buy books and rain boots so we can go to school next winter. We live two miles from school, wear out a lot of boots, and catch colds when it’s wet. We had pneumonia last spring, and Mom said we have to have rubber boots, and we might earn them during berry picking," Tilda said excitedly.

"Yeah, and she's really smart, and she's going to get promoted, and has to have new books, and they cost so much, and Mom isn't rich, so we get them ourselves," added sister Patty, letting go of her shyness in a burst of sisterly pride.

"That's brave. How much will it cost for the boots and the books?" asked the lady, glancing at the old man who was eating berries from her basket.

"As much as five dollars, I guess. We want to get a shawl for Mom, so she can go to church. It's a secret, and we pick every day really hard because the berries don't last long," said Tilda, wisely.

"She thought about coming down here. We felt really bad about losing our hotel room and didn’t know what to do until Tilda came up with this plan. I think it’s a great idea." And Patty looked at her half-dollar with great satisfaction.

"Don't mess up the plan, Alice. I come by every week while you’re up here, and I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly," said the old man, giving a nod; then he added, raising his voice, "These berries are really nice, and I need you to take four quarts every other day to Miller's farm over there. You know where it is?"

"Yes, sir! yes, sir!" shouted two excited voices; the kids felt like a shower of half-dollars was about to start.

"I come up every Saturday and head back down on Monday; and I'll be looking for you here, and you can water the sheep as much as you want. They really need it, poor things!" added the old gentleman.

"We will, sir! We will!" shouted the children, their faces brimming with innocent gratitude and goodwill, prompting the young lady to bend down and kiss them both.

"Now, my dear, we need to go and not keep our friends waiting any longer," said the old gentleman, looking at the heads still peeking out from behind the bushes.

"Goodbye, goodbye. We won't forget the berries and the sheep," called the children, waving the stained apron like a flag and showing every white tooth in the bright smiles they sent after their new friends.

"Nor I my lambs," Alice said to herself as she followed her dad to the boat.

"What will mom say when we tell her and show her this pile of money?" exclaimed Tilda, pouring the dimes into her lap and excitedly clinking the big half-dollars before she tied them all up again.

"I hope we won't get robbed on the way home. You should hide it in your shirt, or else someone might spot it," said careful Patty, feeling the weight of such a large amount of money.

"There goes the boat!" shouted Tilda. "Doesn't it look amazing? Those are the nicest people I’ve ever seen."

"She looks absolutely elegant. I want a white dress and a hat just like that. When she kissed me, the long feather felt as soft as a bird's wing against my cheeks, and her hair curled around just like the picture we cut out of the newspaper." And Patty watched the boat as if this small bit of romance in her busy life brought her joy.

"They must be really rich to want so many berries. We’ll have to hurry around to gather enough for them and the people in the car too. Let's head straight to that thick spot we left this morning; otherwise, Elviry might beat us to it," said practical Tilda, jumping up, eager to make the most of the moment. But neither of them realized what a great harvest they were going to get that summer, all because they responded to that pitiful "Baa! baa!"

BAA II.

A very warm and busy week followed, as the berries were reliably delivered to the farm and sold successfully at the station. Best of all, the sheep were watered as diligently as two little pails and two little girls could manage. Everyone else forgot about them. Mr. Benson was a busy old man far away in the city; Miss Alice was driving, boating, and picnicking all day long; and the men at the depot had no instructions to attend to the poor animals. But Tilda and Patty never forgot; and, rain or shine, they were there when the long train arrived, ready to do what they could with dripping buckets, handfuls of grass, or green branches to comfort these suffering travelers that no one else considered.

The rough stagecoach drivers laughed at them, the brakemen told them to go away, and the station master called them "little fools;" but nothing discouraged the small sisters of charity, and within a few days, they were left alone. Their arms were very tired from carrying the pails, their backs hurt from hauling so much water, and their mother wouldn’t let them wear anything but their oldest clothes for such messy work; so they faced their challenges, but handled them bravely and never expected to be thanked.

When Saturday rolled around and Miss Alice drove to meet her father, she thought about the little girls and looked for them. At the farm, she enjoyed her berries and made sure to pay for them right away, but she was either asleep or not there when they arrived, so she hadn’t seen the children. The sight of Patty quickly throwing on a clean apron over her old dress while waiting for the train with her tray of fruit made the young lady get out of the carriage and go meet the girl, smiling as she asked,--

"Where is the sister with the black eyes? I hope she isn't sick."

"No, ma'am; she's watering the sheep. She's so strong she does it better than I do, and I sell the baskets," replied Patty, secretly pleased with the clean, worn apron that concealed her shabby appearance.

"Ah, I forgot my lambs; but you were loyal to yours, you good little ones! Have you done it every day?"

"Yeah, we do. Mom said if we promised, we have to follow through; and we enjoy it. It's just that there are so many of them, and we end up feeling really worn out." And Patty rubbed her arms as if they hurt.

"I'll talk to Dad about it today. It’s a good opportunity since Mr. Jacobs, the president of the railroad, is coming to spend Sunday, and they need to do something for the poor animals," said Miss Alice, embarrassed to be outdone by two little girls.

"That sounds great. We read an article in a newspaper our teacher lent us, and I brought it down to show Mr. Weed, the guy at the depot. He said it was unfortunate, but there was nothing anyone could do about it; so we thought we’d let him know about the law we discovered." And Patty eagerly pulled out a tattered copy of "Our Dumb Animals" from her pocket to show this influential friend who was connected to the railroad king the small paragraph.

Miss Alice read:—

"An act of Congress states that after every twenty-eight hours of travel, animals must be given five hours of rest and properly fed and watered, unless they are transported in cars designed with facilities for caring for live animals on board."

“There!” shouted Patty. “That’s the law! Mom says these sheep come a long way and need water. Please tell the president and ask him to take care of it. There was another story about some poor pigs and cows that went ninety-two hours without water and food. It was terrible.”

"I will tell him. Here’s our train. Run to your berries. I’ll find Dad and show him this."

As Miss Alice talked, the cars roared into the small station, and a quick flurry of activity followed, leaving Patty too occupied to notice what transpired.

Mr. Benson and another heavyset old man got out; and as soon as Miss Alice had been kissed, she said very seriously,--

"Hold on for a moment, please; I need to take care of something really important before we head home."

Then, while the guys listened patiently, she shared the story, showed the article in the newspaper, and, pointing at Patty, added warmly,--

"That's one great child. Come and see the other, and you’ll agree that we need to do something to ease their kind hearts and arms, if not for the sake of the animals, who can’t really be considered dumb in this situation, even though we’ve been blind to it for too long."

"My willful girl has to have her way. Come and get a breath of fresh air, Jacobs." And Mr. Benson followed his daughter across the track, happy to escape the chaos.

Yes, Tilda was there, working so energetically that they didn’t dare approach, but stood watching and laughing for a moment. Two buckets of water were nearby, and with a long-handled dipper she was serving everyone she could reach; the ones stacked on the upper tier could only be refreshed by a well-aimed splash, which was eagerly welcomed and enjoyed by everyone—Tilda got splashed too, but didn't mind at all, as it was a hot July day.

"That’s a very small thing to do, but it’s the cup of cold water that we have forgotten," Miss Alice said softly, while the air was filled with cries of longing as the blue lake sparkled before the thirsty animals.

"Jacobs, we need to take care of this."

"Benson, we will. I'll check into it and give an update at the next meeting."

That was all they said; but Alice clapped her hands, knowing it would happen, and smiled brightly at the two old gentlemen, who then watched the long train rumble away, shaking and nodding their gray heads, which showed both sympathy and resolve.

The other train quickly arrived, and Patty ran over with her empty tray and some coins to join Tilda, who had sat down on her upside-down pail, feeling exhausted.

"Papa will take care of it, kids; and, thanks to you, the sheep will be more comfortable soon," said Miss Alice, joining them.

"Oh, great! I really hope they hurry up; it's so hot, there are so many dead ones today, and I can't help them," replied Tilda, fanning herself with her bonnet and wiping the sweat off her flushed face.

Miss Alice pulled a nice straw fan out of her pocket and gave it to her, with a look of appreciation for the loyal little person who carried out her responsibilities so well.

"Ask for me when you come to the farm tonight. I’ll have some hats and aprons for you, and I want to get to know you better," she said, thinking about the wide-brimmed hats and pre-made aprons in the village shop.

"Thank you, ma'am. We'll be there. Now we won’t have to deal with this dirty work; we’d like to keep things clean and tidy," said Patty, gratefully.

"Do you always sell all your berries down here?" asked Miss Alice, watching Tilda bundle up the dimes.

"Yes, for sure; and we could sell more if both of us went. But Mom said we were making a lot of money, and it wasn't a good idea to get rich too quickly," Tilda replied thoughtfully.

"That's something we should keep in mind, Benson, especially right now, and not focus too much on the cost of this small upgrade to our cattle cars," Mr. Jacobs said, as the old gentleman arrived just in time to hear Tilda's speech.

"Your mom is an amazing woman; I really need to come and see her," added Mr. Benson.

"Yes, sir; she is. She’d be happy to see you any day." And Tilda stood up respectfully as her elders spoke to her.

"Getting too rich, are you? Then I guess it wouldn’t be right to ask you to invest this in your business for me?" asked Mr. Jacobs, holding up two silver dollars, as if he felt shy about offering them.

Two pairs of eyes sparkled, and Patty's hand reached out without her thinking, as she imagined all the things she could buy with all that money.

"Would they buy a lamb? And would you want to use it like that?" asked Tilda, in a professional tone.

"I think Miller would let you have one for that price if Miss Alice agrees to the deal, and I would really like to start a flock if you could take care of it for me," Mr. Jacobs replied, laughing and nodding at the young lady, who appeared to understand that method of making deals.

"We would really love that! We've wanted a lamb all summer, and we have a lovely rocky pasture with plenty of pennyroyal, berry bushes, and a brook for it to live in. We could totally get one ourselves now that we're so wealthy, but we'd prefer to buy more things for Mom and fix the roof before the snow arrives since it's so old that rain sometimes drips onto our bed."

"That's unfortunate; but you seem to like water, and you look like it suits you," said Mr. Jacobs, playfully poking Tilda's wet apron with his cane.

They all laughed, and Mr. Benson said, checking his watch, --

"Come on, Alice, we need to go. I'm hungry for dinner, and so is Jacobs. Goodbye, little water-witches. I'll see you again."

"Do you think they'll remember the lambs and hats, and everything they promised?" asked Patty, as the others turned away.

"I don't think they will. Rich people are so caught up in enjoying themselves that they tend to forget about the less fortunate, it seems to me," Tilda replied, shaking her head like a little Solomon.

"Goodness, what a clever kid that is! We can't let her down; so remind me, Alice, to take note of all this," whispered Mr. Benson, who heard every word.

"The President is a really nice guy, and I know he will keep his promise. Look! He dropped the money in my tray, and I never saw him do it," cried Patty, swooping down on the dollars like a robin on a worm.

"There's a compliment for you, and it's well worth the price. That kind of confidence is beautiful," Mr. Jacobs said, laughing.

"Well, I’ve learned a little lesson, and I’ll remember it so well that neither of you will forget," added Alice as they drove away, while Tilda and Patty walked home, completely unaware that they had set an example that their elders weren’t afraid to follow.

So many wonderful things happened after this that the kids felt like they had stepped into a fairy tale. First, they were given two nice, sturdy straw hats and four practical aprons that very night. The next day, Miss Alice went to see their mom and found a fantastic woman trying to raise her daughters all on her own, with no one to help her.

Then somehow the roof got fixed, and the fence was repaired, so that wandering cattle couldn't trample the little beds where the kids carefully grew wildflowers from the woods and hills. There seemed to be a sudden demand for berries in the neighborhood—news of the small Samaritans spread, and even while they laughed, people were interested in the children and were happy to help them; so the dimes in the spoutless teapot piled up like a silver tide, and dreams of new dresses and maybe sleds danced through the busy little minds.

But, best and most amazing of all, the old gentlemen did not forget the sheep. It was surprising how quickly and easily everything was done once those with the power found both the will and the way. Everyone was interested now: the stage-drivers stopped joking; the brakemen helped with the buckets while waiting for better assistance; and even grumpy Mr. Weed patted Tilda and Patty on the head and pointed them out to strangers as the "nice little girls who got the railroad folks involved." Kids from the hotel came to check them out, and Elviry Morris felt regret that she had no part in this exciting event.

Thus, the small bucket of water they provided out of compassion kept the memory of this much-needed kindness alive until the lake flowed fully along the channel created for it, and there was no more suffering on that road.

On the first day the new pumps were tested, everyone went to see them in action; and the first to arrive were Tilda and Patty, wearing pink aprons and wreaths of evergreens around their new hats to celebrate the occasion. It was heartwarming to see their pure joy as water flowed into the troughs and the thirsty sheep drank happily. The innocent girls had no idea how many admiring looks were directed at them while they sat on a log, their tired arms crossed, two trays of berries at their feet, and two faces shining with the happiness of a hope that had been beautifully realized.

Right now, a group from the hotel showed up, and it was clear that something exciting was about to happen because the boys and girls kept sneaking behind the cars to check if they were arriving. Tilda and Patty were curious about who or what it was but stayed modestly on their log, happy to see that the classy people enjoyed the scene just as much as they did.

A rattle was heard along the road, a wagon stopped behind the station, and an excited boy ran across the tracks to share the mysterious announcement with the other children,--

"They've got them, and they're real beauties."

"More pumps or troughs, I guess. Well, we can't have too many," Tilda said, watching the business being done.

"I wish those people wouldn't stare so much. I guess it's the new aprons with pockets," whispered shy Patty, wishing she could go back to wearing the old cape-bonnet.

But they both forgot about their pumps and pockets in an instant when an eye-catching parade came around the corner. Mr. Benson, trying not to laugh but glowing with heat and joy, led a fluffy white lamb wearing a red bow on its neck; right behind him was Miss Alice, leading another lamb with a blue bow. She appeared very serious and looked more like a good fairy than ever as she revealed her little surprise. People watched and laughed, but everyone seemed to get the joke instantly and quieted down when Mr. Benson raised his hand and said, in a tone that was both earnest and cheerful,--

"Here, my little girls, are two friends of those poor guys over there who came to thank you for your kindness, and I hope to show that rich people aren’t always too caught up in their own good times to remember their less fortunate neighbors. Take them, my dears, and God bless you!"

"I didn't forget my lambs this time, but I've been taming these for you; and Mr. Jacobs asks you to accept them, with his love," added Miss Alice, as the two pretty creatures were brought up to their new owners, wagging their tails and sniffing around in the most friendly way, though clearly very surprised by the scene.

Tilda and Patty were so surprised that they were speechless with joy, and could only blush and pat the fluffy heads, feeling more like characters from a storybook than ever. The other kids, delighted by this happy ending to the lovely story, cheered; the men joined in enthusiastically; while the women waved their parasols, and all the sheep seemed to add their thankful "Baa! baa!" to the celebration.

University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.

*      *      *      *      *

*Roberts Brothers Publications.*

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Little Women; or, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. With illustrations. Two volumes. 16mo. $3.00

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Hospital Sketches, and Camp and Fireside Stories. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

An Old-Fashioned Girl. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

Little Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

Eight Cousins; or, The Aunt-Hill. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

Rose In Bloom. A sequel to "Eight Cousins." 16mo. $1.50

Under the Lilacs. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

Jack and Jill. A Village Story. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50

Work: A Story of Experience. With character illustrations by Sol Eytinge. 16mo. $1.50

Moods. A Novel. New edition, revised and updated. 16mo. $1.50

Silver Pitchers and Independence. A Centennial Love Story. 16mo. $1.25

Proverb Stories. New edition, updated and expanded. 16mo. $1.25

Spinning-Wheel Stories. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.25

My Boys, etc. First volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag. 16mo. $1.00

Shawl-Straps. Second volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag. 16mo. $1.00

Cupid and Chow-Chow, etc. Third volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag. 16mo. $1.00

My Girls, etc. Fourth volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag. 16mo. $1.00

Jimmy's Cruise in the Pinafore, etc. Fifth volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag. 16mo. $1.00

An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving, &c. Sixth volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap Bag. 16mo. $1.00

Little Women. Illustrated. Enhanced with nearly 200 distinctive illustrations from original designs created specifically for this edition of this renowned American Classic. One small quarto, bound in cloth, featuring emblematic designs. $3.50

Little Women Series. Printed on large paper, with new illustrations, and in matching bindings with a fresh and stylish design, in black, red, and gold. Each volume stands alone. The books in this set are as follows: --

Little Women; Little Men; Eight Cousins; Under the Lilacs; An Old-Fashioned Girl; Hospital Sketches; Rose in Bloom; Jack and Jill. 8 large 16mo volumes in a beautiful box. $12.00

These books are available for purchase at all bookstores, or they can be mailed, postage paid, when the price is received, to any address.

Mrs. Dodge's Best-Selling Book

DONALD & DOROTHY.

BY MARY MAPES DODGE.

Beautifully illustrated and bound. Price: $2.00.

A sincere homage from a friend who admires you.

"DEAR MRS. DODGE,--I just finished your book 'Donald and Dorothy' for the third or fourth time, and I would really like to know if Dorothy is based on a real person, and if she is, what her name is. I’m almost as old as Dorothy was at the end of the book, so I'm quite interested in her. I'd also like to know how old she is and where she lives. If you could be kind enough to reply, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Your fan,"

A NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF

"Jolly Good Times" and "Jolly Good Times at School."

THE BROWNS.

BY MARY P. W. SMITH,

AUTHOR OF

"Great Times; or, Childhood on a Farm," "Great
Times at School," &c.

With frontispiece illustration. 16mo. Cloth. Price $1.00.

CONTENTS: I. Don runs an Errand. II. It Snows. III. Border Conflict. IV. The Boo. V. Don acts as an Invalid. VI. The Flood. VII. Nan's Challenges. VIII. Preparations. IX. The Party. X. Don "Speaks in Public on Stage." XI. The Zoo. XII. Grandin Road. XIII. A Dark Shadow. XIV. The Response. XV. Don has his Own Way. XVI. Celebrating a Birthday. XVII. The Browns get ready to Travel. XVIII. They Travel. XIX. They Meet an "Only." XX. They continue on. XXI. They arrive.

Available from all bookstores. Shipped, with postage included, by the publishers,

Roberts Brothers, Boston.