book I

found. I’m not worthy to recite on Washington’s Birthday.’

“And then he rushed from the platform down to his seat, and, putting his head in his hands, he cried and cried.

“‘You’ve done a thing worthy of George Washington’s Birthday, Harry,’ said the teacher. ‘You’re not able to act a lie, and because you are truthful you will still recite the composition, giving the name of its real writer.’”

FEBRUARY 22: Father of His Country

We all know the old answer to the question of “Who was George Washington?”

Many a time have we gaily answered the question as we’ve pounded fists on the table:

“First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.” And at the end of that we’ve had a nice little winding up of pounding.

There is hardly a place, it seems, that in some way is not connected with Washington. Perhaps at one time or another he had made his headquarters there, or a chair is preserved carefully because Washington sat in it!

At Mount Vernon, where Washington lived, one can see the very rooms through which Washington walked, his bed-room, and the very four-poster bed in which he slept. And around the house are the grounds which Washington loved and through which he wandered, down to the banks of the Potomac River.

Time and time again George Washington faced difficulties of a bitterly hard nature. But he never flinched.

Time and time again Washington saw his men suffering or deserting. But Washington suffered with them and he never lost courage.

Time and time again Washington was doubted; jealous groups tried to work against him. But Washington went straight on, doing as he should and not stooping to “play favorites” or to be a “favorite.”

There was the time, too, when the country he loved doubted him, and showed him cruel ingratitude. But Washington did not turn from his course. It was the hardest of all to bear but he was the Father of his Country and—his children did come back to him.

And then—when everywhere people were singing his praises, shouting them, exclaiming them, Washington never lost his head.

He never let his own little inner feelings of likes and dislikes keep him from being fair.

Always fair, always just, always true to the country whose government he really made, he is the Father of his Country in truth.

After the Revolutionary War, as after all wars, the country was in a frightfully upset state and the people were the same. Then it was that Washington held together the country, made its government, and slowly but steadily brought order out of the most frightful disorder.

In those days people traveled by stage-coach; cities were small and far apart, the country was spread out and rumors and prejudices were hard to overcome.

But all of these tangled threads and oh, so tangled were they, Washington unraveled!

His Christmas Days, too—often how unlike Christmas they were! One was spent at Valley Forge when everything was frozen and the men went forth seeking food. Another was spent at New Windsor where the suffering from the cold had been intense, but there was brightness that day because of the arrival of a great wagon filled with shirts and warm clothing for Washington and his men. And yet another Christmas was that when the famous crossing of the Delaware River took place.

Washington—whom historians all call very great.

Washington—the Father of his Country!

FEBRUARY 23: The Stamp Traveler

“I am very superior,” said the Postage Stamp. “I travel all over the world. My family have always traveled. We don’t stay in one place—of course sometimes we do—but more often we go away. Now and again our little one-cent brothers go about the town, but we, the noble two-cent stamps, how we travel.”

“You don’t travel any more than we do,” said the Envelope upon which the stamp was stuck fast.

“I disagree with you,” said the Stamp.

“That makes no difference to me,” said the Envelope. “But if you disagree with me, why don’t you leave me?”

“I can’t,” said the Stamp.

“Of course you can’t, you poor dear,” said the Ink which had made the address on the envelope. “You’re stuck to the Envelope, and no matter how hard you quarrel you still have to stick.”

“Well, I’d like to know if you don’t have to stay on too,” said the Stamp.

“Ah, but I have fun when I’m being put on. Sometimes I make a nice smudgy spot, and then the Creature who has been writing with me does not know what to do.

“The Creature will argue like this, ‘Now shall I let the Envelope go as it is, or shall I address a fresh one? There is something queer about this Ink.’ Then it is that I chuckle. ‘No,’ the Creature continues, ‘I think I will not notice the smudgy spot. Maybe the persons getting it will think that the rain has made it look so badly—rain often gets at a letter.’

“And so the Creature blames it on the rain, and I go off quite free.”

“That’s not to your credit when you’re guilty,” said the Envelope.

“We mustn’t quarrel,” said the Postage Stamp, “as now we’re off for a trip. The man is putting us in a bag. Then we go on a train—then to a new Post Office, and at last we reach the place for which we started.”

“Yes,” said the Ink, “the place I have marked with my ink!”

FEBRUARY 24: How Rowdy Shared His Home

“Rowdy was a beautiful and very handsome bulldog. He had a lovely white throat, too, and when he went out into the street he wore a fine big collar, which made him look very distinguished,” said daddy, “and he belonged to a little boy named Alfred. Alfred’s mother was a very rich lady, and Rowdy had all the comforts that any dog could possibly ask for. He slept in Alfred’s room in a beautiful basket.

“Alfred and Rowdy were really inseparable companions. Alfred was not a very strong little boy. He couldn’t join in all the sports that other little boys enjoy. Because of Alfred’s ill health he and Rowdy were all the better companions.

“Alfred had a phonograph, which he used to play a great deal. Rowdy would sit before it, so delighted at the music. He’d put his head first on one side and then on the other. Of course Alfred would talk to him and ask him how he was enjoying the music. Rowdy would wag his tail to show he thought it was fine.

“In the afternoons Alfred and his mother used to take drives in a lovely big open Victoria. One afternoon it was beautifully bright and sunny. Alfred’s mother said:

“‘We’ll go for a nice long drive to-day.’

“‘Rowdy!’ called Alfred, for Rowdy was fast asleep on the sofa.

“Rowdy jumped up eagerly as if he knew something pretty nice was going to happen.

“‘Rowdy, how would you like to take a drive? Speak and say if you would like it.’

“So Rowdy wagged his tail and gave a bark as if to say, ‘Charmed!’ Rowdy’s best collar was put on, and off they started. They had not gone far before they passed a poor, pathetic little waif dog. Rowdy was not snobbish and proud as some dogs might have been, brought up in all the comforts he had always had. Instead he seemed to feel very sorry for the little waif dog and whined sadly. Then he tried to jump out of the carriage.

“‘Do you want to take the little waif dog driving?’ said Alfred to Rowdy. And Rowdy showed as well as he could that he would like that tremendously.

“They took the poor little homeless dog back with them and gave him good food and a nice home. Rowdy seemed to be glad to give such happiness to a little friendless dog, and he seemed to feel that it was giving the dog rare pleasure to have a master like Alfred.”

FEBRUARY 25: The Tired Eagles

“In the house where Kenneth lived there was a chair which had always fascinated him. It was a very, very old chair, and Kenneth’s mother and daddy were very proud of it,” said daddy to Jack and Evelyn. “Kenneth’s daddy had bought it at a sale of old and curious things. It was a Roman chair, and on either side were two heads of eagles. These four heads in all always made Kenneth wonder, for they looked so very life-like. He used to imagine that even little wooden eagles must get very tired of always being just the same. And late one afternoon, sitting in the chair he fell asleep.

“‘You’re terribly tired, aren’t you?’ said the first eagle, who suddenly seemed to be looking at him.

“‘Yes, I’m a little tired,’ Kenneth admitted.

“‘Well, you’re not as tired as we are,’ said the second eagle.

“‘No, indeed!’ said the third eagle. ‘You’re only tired because you’ve played so many games. We’re tired because we’re always still.’

“Kenneth listened eagerly, because he’d so often thought just what he was hearing. ‘Yes,’ said Kenneth very sympathetically, ‘I should think you would be very dull. I’ve often thought that. Have you been there a long time?’

“‘Oh, ages and ages!’ replied the fourth eagle, who up to this time had not spoken. ‘We were very old before your daddy got us. We’ve been on this chair so long. We can’t remember how long. And what makes us feel so sad is that we are called eagles and should fly and yet are forever glued to this chair.’

“‘Kenneth, Kenneth,’ cried Kenneth’s mother, ‘it’s long past bed-time!’

“‘Oh, I am not so tired as the eagles are!’ said Kenneth. And Kenneth’s mother wondered if he was talking in his sleep.”

[Illustration: “‘WE’VE BEEN ON THIS CHAIR SO LONG,’ SAID THE FOURTH EAGLE.”—_Page 44_]

FEBRUARY 26: The Squirrels’ Peanut Hunt

“A little girl named Polly,” began daddy, “lived near a park. In this park were a great many squirrels. They were principally gray, with great, long bushy tails, and they were very tame. Polly had often fed them peanuts, but she thought it would be lots of fun to have a real peanut hunt. So she ran around as quickly as she could, hiding the peanuts from her bag.

“First one very old fat squirrel found three peanuts hidden under a rock.

“He called to the other squirrels and waved his bushy tail in the air, trying to say, ‘There are peanuts if we will hunt for them!’

“The squirrels didn’t stop to eat the peanuts after they discovered that there were so many hidden. They just kept on getting more and more until finally they had succeeded in finding them all.

“Then they began to carry the peanuts to their little homes, and they looked so happy, just as if they were free from cares or worries for days to come, for, of course, they didn’t have to worry about meals for ever and ever so long with the wonderful supply they now had on hand.”

FEBRUARY 27: The Game of Manners

“I must tell you a story about the game of good manners which they play in a large public school in a big city,” said daddy. “They are let into the secret that it’s a lesson, but it is a play-time lesson and they have it in connection with their gymnasium and play-time work, though it doesn’t take the place of recess.

“And they grow to understand their teachers better, who are teaching them the game of manners and they get on so much better when both teachers and pupils understand each other and really like each other.

“For example, they hear a story of a little boy who didn’t want to wash his hands or face and who became so dirty that he found himself without any companion except a pig.

“After they have heard such a story they all act it out, one taking the part of the dirty little boy, and the others of the people he met who wouldn’t play with him or have anything to do with him, or invite him into their homes, or anything nice like that.

“And they take turns in having the story about a boy and about a girl.

“They hear a story of a very rude boy or girl and of how he grew up into a cross man or woman, and they hear of his adventures and what horrible times he had making others miserable as well as himself.

“Then they act out these stories in their classes where they have dramatics and different ones take the parts of the bad child or the unmannerly child or the unmannerly grown-up, and of all the people whom these met with in their adventures.

“And oh, what laughter there is when a boy makes a mistake in acting his part of the teacher and in being very unlike the teacher and more like himself which of course is quite natural. Yes, the game of good manners is a great and successful game in this school where there are three thousand and six hundred boys and girls.”

FEBRUARY 28: Naughty Julius

“There is nothing more dreadful to my mind,” said daddy, “than a little boy who is mean to other children not so big and strong as he is. I once knew a little boy like that and will tell you about him this evening.

“The little boy’s name was Julius.

“A family came to live one day in the house opposite where Julius lived. The house had been vacant for a long time, so Julius was delighted when he found he was to have neighbors. What was his disappointment, though, to find that the family opposite consisted only of a mother, daddy and a little sick boy named Hugh. He was cross when he saw Hugh’s little pale face at the window opposite. He would laugh at him until he saw the tears trickle down Hugh’s face and he would turn away from the window.

“One day Julius’ mother came to him and said, ‘Julius, it is very cruel to make fun of a little sick boy, and I will tell you what is the trouble with Hugh.

“‘Hugh had his right foot frozen last winter, and he has had to have it taken off. To-day he is going out for the first time on his crutches,’ concluded his mother.

“Julius kept very quiet, but inwardly he was planning something very mean to do. He waited around for some time, and still no sign of Hugh. At last he saw him, so he shrieked from the window, ‘Hello, tenderfoot!’

“Hugh was bound he would be brave, so he beat back the tears. Julius rushed downstairs and out into the street.

“Just at that moment a fast motor-car came along. Julius did not see it, but Hugh did, and as his little voice was too weak to rise above Julius’ laughter he hobbled on his crutches and pulled Julius out of the way just in the nick of time. Oh, how frightened Julius was! And his escape from some terrible injury seemed marvelous.

“In a flash he saw what it would have meant to him to have no football, no skating, no sports, and the little crippled Hugh he had laughed at and who had so much to bear had saved him.

“Hugh forgave Julius, and they became fast friends from that time, and Julius never forgot that Hugh had saved his life.”

FEBRUARY 29: The Whistling Boy

“I am going to tell you a story,” said daddy, “about a whistling boy. It is a true story too. The boy was asked to a party and he went.

“All the children were playing games—follow the leader, prisoner’s base, blind man’s buff, hide and go seek, still-pond-no-more-moving, and many other games.

“They asked him if he wanted to play and he put his hands in his pockets and whistled. Then they had supper and they asked him if he liked creamed chicken and he whistled.

“They asked him if he liked ice-cream and he whistled. And as he whistled the same three notes whenever he was asked anything they didn’t know whether he liked ice-cream or not.

“They gave him some supper when everything was passed around and he whistled when he took his plates and his cup of cocoa. When he had finished, without saying a word to any other children he got up, put his hands in his pockets once more and whistled.

“The children began to giggle, for they thought he was such a funny boy, and a funny boy he was. He had been rather spoilt and he hadn’t really learned to play with other children.

“They felt very sorry for him, but still he wouldn’t say a word or do anything. They had asked him to the party because he had just come to the town to live and they thought he must be lonely.

“Well, when he got home he felt very badly, as many shy people do who have been rude because they were so shy they didn’t know what to say, and so did the wrong thing.

“He cried when he was going to bed. And he was much ashamed of himself, for he thought it was a dreadful thing for a boy to cry.

“After a while he went to sleep, and in his sleep the Dream King came to him.

“‘I’ll help you,’ said the Dream King, ‘and I will not let you behave as badly as you did this afternoon if I can help it. For listen, Boy. If you whistle again instead of talking and playing I will take away your tongue for a whole month and you won’t be able to make any sound.’

“And the dream seemed so real to the boy that he tried his best to act as other boys, and he succeeded too.”

MARCH 1: Lucy’s Tonsils

Now, there were two tonsils and they had made their home in Lucy’s throat.

Tonsils always make their homes in throats. They do not care for other kinds of homes.

They are all alike in that way.

Now people are very different. Some people like to have their homes in country places. Others like to have their homes in big cities where there are crowds and crowds of people.

Still others like to have their homes in seaside places, so they can be neighbors of dear old Mother Ocean.

But tonsils like to make their homes in throats. And these twin Tonsils were in Lucy’s throat.

One Tonsil was named Ton Tonsil and the other was Tom Tonsil.

“Hello, Ton,” said Tom, “are you up to mischief?”

“Indeed I am,” said Ton. “I’m causing trouble. How about you?”

“Doing all I can think of and I’ve a good many pranks left to play, too,” said Tom. “I tell you what, we have a loyal and faithful little friend in Susy Sore Throat. She’s a mean one.

“She’s a good playmate for us. She’s going to be with us to-day. Gracious me, it’s surprising how Susy does turn up, and half the time no one knows from where she comes.

“She’s going to bring her little half-brother along with her—you know—Ronald Raw Throat. They’re very fond of being together.”

“I think we’ll have a fine party,” said Ton Tonsil. “I feel puffed up with excitement already.”

“So do I,” said Tom.

“I tell you Lucy’s throat is a fine home for us,” said Ton.

“Yes,” said Tom, “it’s gorgeous. We have had lots of room to grow big with pride, and we have. We’ve grown big with Tonsil pride.

“They say it’s not nice for Tonsils to grow so proud because they’ve nothing to be proud of—but gracious me, that is just the point.

“Things that have no reason to be puffed up and proud are usually the kind that are most conceited.

“And those creatures who are modest and not conceited are usually the ones who can do things. You’ll almost always find it is that way.”

“That’s the way it usually is,” said Ton. “Well, we mustn’t talk any more. We must get bigger and bigger and just let Lucy know we’re making ourselves quite at home in her throat.

“In fact, she needn’t think she has any rights to her own throat. We’re the ones with rights.”

“And don’t forget us,” said the little Adenoid Cousins. “Don’t forget us.”

“We won’t,” said the Tonsil Twins. “We won’t forget you.”

Along then came Susy Sore Throat and Ronald Raw Throat, and Carrie Cold came too, and so did Clarence Cough. Oh, they all came and had a party in Lucy’s throat.

Well, they liked the party so much that they came again and again. Sometimes they had little parties and sometimes big parties.

One day, however, Lucy decided to let her Tonsils know that they could not make their home any longer in her throat.

So she went to the big doctor who had promised to take them out and who had told her that she would get rid of those wretched little Twins.

It wasn’t pleasant to think of getting rid of the Twins. They wouldn’t come out by a mere kind word. No, they had to be cut out. Harsh ways had to be used with them. But Lucy was brave—and she knew that once she got rid of those wretches her throat would never again be the place for the Tonsil parties.

So the big doctor took the Tonsil Twins out and their Adenoid Cousins along with them, and the Tonsils wept red tears as they left Lucy, but they said each to the other:

“It was all our fault for behaving as we did!”

MARCH 2: Lucy’s Visitors

The Tonsil Twins had been taken away from Lucy’s throat and no longer did they make their home there and give the horrible parties they had been giving for so long a time. And, while Susy Sore Throat was leaving, nice visitors came to see Lucy.

A most attractive little toy wooden bunny came. His ears could be moved up and down and a most roguish look he would have when one ear was up and the other down.

Lucy gave him chicken broth and he was extremely pleased.

If he had not been afraid his wooden face would have cracked he would surely have smiled. For it was pleasant indeed when one was only a little wooden bunny rabbit to be given chicken broth.

It was most superior chicken broth, too. Oh, yes, for it had been made for Lucy and was made so as to give her lots of extra strength.

Besides the toy bunny a rag doll came to see Lucy. Yes, a very lovable sweet rag doll came to visit her.

She wore a little knitted hood on her head and a little sweater and a knitted scarf to keep her warm.

And she had a pair of warm knitted shoes. She wore her outside jacket, too, over her sweater, and she took along her little apron, so she could wear that when she played, so as not to hurt her good dress.

Oh, yes, the rag doll was going to play with Lucy and have an excellent time.

Then many members of the game family came to call on Lucy. They, too, came ready for play. Yes, there is nothing in the world that a game is more ready for than a good play.

Then people came to see Lucy, too, and congratulate her on the fact that the Tonsil Twins and the Adenoid Cousins had left.

A lovely gray felt bunny and a brown felt monkey always were with Lucy. They had always belonged to her and, though new visitors came, they did not leave her. The monkey put his arm around the bunny and with his other arm on the pillow by Lucy he looked most comfortable.

He hadn’t left her when she had gone to have the Tonsil Twins out. He had been such a comfort. Of course, when they were actually to be taken out he had to stay behind, but he was with her just as long as he could be and he joined her again as soon as he could.

“Well,” he was saying to the gray rabbit, “I’m laughing up my sleeve.”

“How can you do that?” asked the rabbit. “You haven’t any sleeve and you aren’t laughing up your arm. You’re not even turning your mouth in that direction.

“What do you mean by saying that?”

“Oh, it is just an expression,” said the monkey. “When Creatures say they’re laughing up their sleeve it does not really mean that they’re holding open their sleeve and saying:

“‘Ha, ha, ha,’ up it. But it means they’re laughing inwardly or to themselves or so no one can see their laughter. That is what the expression means.

“So, you see no one can see my laughter, but I’m laughing all right at the good joke played on those wretched Tonsil Twins!”

Just then there came another visitor. This time it was the prince of desserts—Prince Ice-Cream. Proudly the Prince came in on the best and most royal of saucers and just at that moment Susy Sore Throat left for good and all.

[Illustration: “A LOVELY FELT BUNNY AND A BROWN FELT MONKEY ALWAYS WERE WITH LUCY.”—_Page 50_]

MARCH 3: The Homesick Puppy

Daddy had a story about a little dog that he knew would please both the children.

“Would you like to hear of a little dog who was homesick?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Evelyn, “we would love to hear about it—that is, if he didn’t die of homesickness.”

“No, indeed,” said daddy, “this little dog didn’t die of homesickness, for he was sent home again and then was perfectly happy.

“He was the pet puppy of his mother, and he had told the man who had sold him to a little girl that he didn’t want to go.

“The man who sold him thought that the little girl would give him such a nice home, and so she did, but the little puppy wanted more than just a nice home. He wanted his mother.

“Of course the little girl hadn’t hesitated a moment about buying him, for he was a beautiful little Boston bull, and she promised him that she would make him happy.

“Now, when the little girl reached home with her puppy she gave him a great big bowl of the most delicious warm milk and a good puppy biscuit. But the puppy wouldn’t touch the milk and biscuit.

“At bedtime the little girl showed the puppy his basket, which was nice and soft and comfortable. She thought that after a good night’s rest he would be hungry for his breakfast and feel better.

“But morning came, and the puppy still refused to eat. And, would you believe it, hours passed, and the puppy still would not eat.

“Then the little girl decided that the only thing to be done was to take her beautiful puppy back to his mother.

“She ordered her pony cart to be ready for a certain hour, and off she started, holding the puppy by her side.

“When the puppy came near his home and began to see familiar sights it was all she could do to keep him in the cart, and when they were right by his home she could not hold him, for with a bound he was out and frisked and jumped over his mother, and she did the same, looking as if they would almost kill each other with joy.

“‘I guess he had better stay home,’ said the man.

“‘Yes,’ answered the little girl, ‘this is where he belongs.’”

MARCH 4: Lady Ethel

“I want to tell you a story this evening of the horse called Lady Ethel,” said daddy.

“One time Lady Ethel’s master took a long ride far out into the country away from where people lived.

“He felt quite ill after he had ridden a long way, and all of a sudden he got quite dizzy and fell.

“Lady Ethel pulled him out of the road and off to one side so no one taking the same road would go dashing over him by mistake.

“And then she went back home, all the distance alone, and neighed so that the people came out with her and found her master.

“He was quite ill after that, for he had been feeling poorly when he had started out on his ride, but if it hadn’t been for Lady Ethel he wouldn’t have had the chance to have been taken home and put back to bed and nursed back to health.

“He said he was grateful to all who helped him get well, but the one he was most grateful to of all was the faithful Lady Ethel.

“And every day while he was ill they led her under his window and she neighed happily after he had called out with as much strength as he could:

“‘Hello, my faithful, fine Lady Ethel!’”

MARCH 5: The Soup

“We’re going to be mixed together, I hear,” said the tomato.

“You don’t say so,” said the milk. “Well, we will be chummy, won’t we?”

“Yes,” said the tomato. “They’re going to make cream of tomato soup. It’s supposed to be quite delicious. And when we’re both well cooked they will mix us together and season us up very fine and we’ll be eaten as the first thing at the meal. Yes, soup is very apt to take the lead. It’s a leader, soup is.”

“Good,” said the milk. “But how silly to call it cream of tomato soup, if they’re going to use me. I’m milk, I am.”

“Oh, well,” said the tomato, “let them have their little airs and graces. And maybe when you’re mixed with me you’re every bit as good as cream. Who knows!”

MARCH 6: Elephant Ways

“Why did you have your toe-nails cut, your skin oiled, and your feet sand-papered?” asked Sally of an elephant in the Zoo.

“One question at a time please,” said the elephant. “I can’t answer all three at once, for then the answers would be all jumbled up. Besides, I don’t know how to say more than one word at a time.

“My nails were cut because they needed it. And, come to think of it, I can answer all your questions at once. My feet needed to be sand-papered and my body needed to be oiled. My skin required it, and so the keeper looked after me, as he did after my friends here.” This he said waving his trunk.

“But what do you do when you are not in the Zoo?” asked Sally. “They don’t have sandpaper and nail scissors in the jungles, do they?”

“Ah, that is where you do not understand, and where the keeper does. In the wilds I can cut my nails on the great rocks. They keep them short. Here I cannot do it myself, and so the keeper has to do it for me. And I get the oil for my skin in the swamps when I’m free, and my feet are kept hard by the ground and rocks. We do not need the keeper’s scissors and so forth when we are free, for old Mother Nature looks after those things for us.”

MARCH 7: The Marbles

“The Marbles,” said daddy, “were very proud because they had been used so much by boys and girls—especially by boys.

“Then, too, the Elves had played marbles, as years before they had found out about them and thought they were lots of fun to play with.

“‘You are nothing but an ordinary Marble,’ said one large and very blue Marble to a little Marble.

“‘But I am useful for playing. And I joggle along and roll much better than you do. You are so big. You are quite awkward!’

“‘I’d feel pretty badly,’ said the big Marble, ‘if I were as cheap as you. You cost next to nothing. In fact, you didn’t even cost a cent. Not one whole cent!’

“The Marble rolled along a little way as if it couldn’t be too near the cheap Marble.

“‘But a cent bought me,’ said the little Marble.

“‘Yes,’ said the big Marble proudly, ‘it bought you and also a number of other marbles, too. You were one of five for a cent. One cent bought you and four others! Now, as for me! well, it took the whole of five cents to buy me!’

“‘I know it,’ said the little Marble sadly.

“‘My Master only bought me yesterday,’ said the big Marble. ‘His friends have not seen me. They’ll trade everything for me! Gracious—they’d trade dozens of little Marbles just for me! I cost five cents!’

“The children had arrived, but they did not seem to want to trade everything for it! One of them said,

“‘It is a beauty, but then it is not nearly so nice to play with as the smaller ones; besides, if I gave up a lot of small marbles for that big one I’d never be able to have a real game.’

“And all the other children said just the same thing.

“They played and they played. But the big Marble was so mad that it rolled away crookedly and no one thought so much of it.

“After the children had finished playing and had taken their marbles, and after the Master of the big Marble had put it away with the smaller ones, the little Marble which had been bought with four others for a cent said,

“‘Well, you may be handsome and big. But you are not nearly such fun as we are. Sometimes the cheap things are the most fun. It doesn’t mean because you cost five cents that you can give more pleasure.’

“‘I’m glad I can’t be used all the time like you all are,’ said the big Marble. ‘I am too fine for little Marbles, anyway.’

“But all the little Marbles were happy because they were the best for the children’s games.”

MARCH 8: Tomatoes’ Advantages

“The Vegetables,” said daddy, “had been put into the cellar for the winter. There were the Potatoes, the Apples for cooking, Carrots, the Squash family and many others. As they were talking the cook came down in the cellar. ‘Well,’ said she to herself, ‘it’s nice to get something from the hot-house once in a while. I get so sick of these everlasting winter vegetables and apples that we keep in the cellar. It’s nice to have a few Tomatoes for a change.’

“Down she put a box with bright red Tomatoes—just from the hot-house.

“‘Well, Vegetables,’ said the Tomatoes, ‘how do you do?’

“‘We’re quite well,’ said the Vegetables and Apples, who were rather quiet right now.

“‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to you, though I’m pretty different from you,’ said the biggest Tomato of all.

“‘And why shouldn’t you be?’ asked Mr. Potato. ‘You have been in a hot-house, spoilt and petted. You’d be queer if you weren’t superior. With sun and warmth of course you have a fine color!’ And the Tomatoes agreed that they had had unusual advantages.”

MARCH 9: The Old Woman and the Pot of Daffodils

“A little girl named Laura,” said daddy, “had been quite ill. One day she was wondering if she would ever feel like herself again, able to do things and to play around. She was sitting up by the window in a big chair. She was looking out, feeling very sad and forlorn, when suddenly she saw a funny old woman who looked just like a witch stop by the window and then walk right into the room.

“The funny old woman spoke at once.

“‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Instead, you see this pot of daffodils I am carrying?’

“‘Yes,’ exclaimed Laura. ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’

“‘I am so glad you like them,’ continued the old woman, ‘for they are for you.’

“‘For me?’ repeated Laura. ‘For me?’

“‘Yes,’ said the old woman. ‘When the spring comes I take a walk each day, carrying with me a pot of daffodils. When I see some one sitting in the window of a house looking sick and longing to go out I just go right in and leave my pot of daffodils, for they are better than any spring tonic, to my mind.’

“And the yellow flowers smiled at Laura and bobbed their pretty heads, saying, ‘We’ll make you well.’

“And, sure enough, they really did more toward making Laura well than anything else. How could she help but feel better with the bright flowers smiling at her and cheering her up?”

MARCH 10: The Tick-Tock Twins

“Hello, twin Tock,” said Tick, and Tock answered, just as quickly as anything:

“Hello, Tick.”

They never got tired of saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock.” They were the two clock twins, as you may have guessed, but sometimes between their words to each other, sometimes between saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock,” they talked.

Of course they would only say a few words at a time and those would be said so very quickly we could not understand them, and anyway Tick and Tock only talk for each other.

They just speak to each other all day long, as the time goes on.

And they don’t stop at night, but as it would be very hard to understand their story without leaving out all the ticks and the tocks we will hear it with those left out.

Really it was like this.

“Hello, Tick.”

“Hello, Tock,” and the “Hello” would be said very quickly so no one else could hear it.

“Nice-Tick.”

“Nice-Tock.”

“Day-Tick.”

“Day-Tock,” and so on and on, never forgetting the tick and the tock.

“We’re such happy twins,” said Tick.

“Yes,” said Tock, “and we never forsake each other. If one of us can’t go on, the other won’t go alone. There is never a tick without a tock following right on behind.”

“Ah, you’re so loyal, Tock,” said Tick.

“And so are you,” said Tock.

“There are many clock twins,” said Tick.

“Many,” agreed Tock.

“Every clock has us,” said Tick.

“Every one,” said Tock.

“And if the clock stops, they stop too.”

“Of course,” said Tock.

“One would never go without the other,” said Tick.

“Of course not,” said Tock.

“It’s nice,” said Tick, “to be so loyal, very nice and very unusual. Think of how we can always wait for the other, and then follow after!”

“We’re each always following the other,” said Tock.

“I’m glad,” said Tick, “I’m not a boy and you’re not a girl. Then when we grew up we’d be sent to different schools, and one of us would go into business and the other might marry and keep house. Dear me, it’s much nicer to be the clock twins. We’ll never be separated.”

MARCH 11: The Fig

“I’m mad,” said the Fig.

“What are you mad about?” asked the Apple.

The Fig and the Apple were in the fruit dish together, along with an orange or two and a bunch of grapes.

“What are you mad about?” the rest of the fruit asked.

“Yes, you’d better tell us,” said the Apple. “I’m sure it will make you feel much, much better.”

“I don’t know whether it will or not,” said the Fig.

“Why don’t you think it will?” asked the Apple.

“Because it might make me cry, and some one might call me a cry baby.”

“My dear Fig,” said the Apple, “no one could ever call you a cry baby, because even if you cried you’re not a baby.”

“But I’ve heard big boys and big girls called cry babies, and they weren’t babies,” said the Fig.

“All very true,” said the Apple, “but they behaved as babies and once they had been babies. That is, each one of them had once been a baby. It would have been impossible for them to have been more than one baby I suppose.”

“We suppose so, too,” said the rest of the fruit, as it moved in the fruit dish a little.

“And,” continued the Apple, “they were behaving as though they hadn’t grown up into boys and girls by crying over some silly little thing.

“You see, Fig, you have never been a baby. You have been a little fig, but never a little baby. So you couldn’t be a cry baby, though you might be a cry fig, or a cry little fig. I’m not sure about that.”

“That wouldn’t sound so badly,” said the Fig. “I will have to tell you what has made me mad, and what may make me cry at any moment.”

“Tell us,” said the Apple.

“Imagine,” said the Fig, “I heard people speak of a person they knew was mean and horrid and unfair and all that was dreadful as not being worth a fig. Oh, that was cruel, cruel.”

“I am so glad you told the story,” said the Apple, “for you are being unhappy for no reason at all. When any one says that a person isn’t worth thinking about and he wouldn’t give a fig for that person, it doesn’t mean an insult to the family of figs, but is simply an expression people have used for a long, long time.” And the Fig was happy again.

But the Fig was more delighted when a lovely child came by the fruit dish and taking the Fig said, “I simply love figs.”

MARCH 12: Happy Compton

“In the first place,” said Happy Compton, “I’m a dog. I’m not any special breed. I’m not what is known as a thoroughbred, but they say I’m brighter than a great many thoroughbreds. I’m glad they think I’m bright, and that they like me.

“I was a little waif dog first of all. Louise and Ada had been promised a dog. Their daddy had told them that the first chance he had he would go and buy them a dog. Then I came along, a lonely, homeless little waif dog.

“They took me in and fed me and loved me and made me warm and happy.

“When their daddy asked them about the dog he was to buy for them Louise said:

“‘Such dogs as those, in kennels, which are for sale, will get homes, for they will be in good condition, but this is a homeless little dog and I’d rather have him. He will be happy here and he will be loved here. No one could love him more than I do.’

“‘Except the way I love him,’ said Ada, and to prove how much she loved me she put me down by her on the pillow and covered me up and then Louise stroked my head and I went off into the dreamland of dogs.

“They both loved me so right away and they still love me so, and I know how much they always will love me.

“Because they could see how happy I was to be no longer homeless and miserable they called me Happy. It’s such a nice name, and they have given me their last name, too—Happy Compton. Isn’t that fine?”

MARCH 13: Ice Box and Furnace

Now the furnace and the ice box were both in a big cellar. The ice box was some distance away from the furnace, but still they were in the same cellar. The ice box was near a door, which was by some steps. These steps led up to the kitchen of the house and every one came down to the ice box to get out the food which was going to be used and the milk and all such things which belong in an ice box.

Of course, half of the year the furnace wasn’t doing anything, and in the winter time the ice box did not have nearly so much ice given to it.

“I feel sorry for you,” said the furnace. “Here you are so cold and you haven’t even enough warmth about you to make the ice melt quickly as it does in the summer time.

“You have to be so cold always; even in the winter you have to be cold. That is the saddest of all. In the summer I’m not so hot myself but as soon as a cold day comes I am ready to be warm.”

“Ah, furnace, you mustn’t boast too much,” said the ice box. “I’ve heard the family having great trouble with you. There are days, sometimes the cold, cold ones, too, when you won’t burn. I’ve even known you to go out sometimes.

“And oh, how you have made the family shiver. You have made them fuss over you.”

“And why shouldn’t they fuss over me?” asked the furnace. “I’m the furnace, I am; the great and warm and powerful furnace. I keep the whole house warm. I keep all the people in it warm.”

“But you don’t keep them warm when you go out and when you go slowly and when you won’t burn nicely,” said the ice box.

“That is to show that I won’t let any one think I’m so unimportant that I don’t have to be noticed and fussed over.”

“It shows that sometimes you are very mean, furnace. Important and great and wise and clever creatures don’t have to be fussed over. They’re above it.”

“Look here, young ice box,” said the furnace, “I don’t want any rules from you. You are a fine thing to talk about a creature keeping warm. What warmth do you ever give to any one, I’d like to know?”

“You’re right, furnace, I don’t give any warmth. But I am not supposed to, and you are. I am supposed to keep the ice and to make folks cool in the hot summer and make the food keep nice and fresh and cool. I do my work, I do. And you should do yours, you should.”

“I do it all right, never fear,” said the furnace, though it knew that many a time it had behaved badly. But now it was mad and it went for all it was worth and the ice box chuckled and said to itself, “The poor people have been saying how cold they were and how badly the furnace was behaving. Now the furnace is mad and will behave by burning and raging for all it is worth.”

And the furnace burned angrily and furiously and how nice and warm the people kept on that cold winter’s day!

MARCH 14: The Pet Dogs

“There were five dogs,” said daddy, “who belonged to a boy who was named Jack.

“Brutus was the largest of all. He was a big Newfoundland dog. Next came Bogi, another Newfoundland dog, but not so large as Brutus.

“Third came Patty, an Irish terrier. Then came Ouji, a cocker spaniel, and last came Susy, a little fox terrier. When they all stood together they looked like a flight of stairs, and just as though one could walk from Susy right up to Brutus.

“‘Ah,’ said Patty, ‘I see something coming my way.’

“All the other dogs looked and Patty said, ‘There is a bug and I’m going to catch it.’

“But the bug said to itself, ‘I’ll play a joke on that dog.’ And the bug did play a joke, a very mean joke.

“Patty snapped at the bug and then was about to swallow it when she had gotten the bug on her tongue, when what should that mean bug do but turn itself over so that it attached itself to Patty’s tongue, and so Patty couldn’t swallow it or eat it or anything!

“Then Brutus had a fine idea. He ran for Jack, for he had seen Jack go to a near-by field to play baseball.

“He ran just as hard as he could and when he reached the field he didn’t even notice the baseball which had just been hit with the bat.

“The boys were awfully frightened for a moment as they thought Brutus might get hit by accident with the hard ball, and they called out to him, but Brutus wasn’t thinking of being afraid of anything.

“But luckily the ball didn’t hit Brutus, and Brutus went right on up to his master, barking, and showing by his eyes that he wanted to have Jack follow him.

“‘I guess Brutus wants me for something,’ said Jack, ‘for he wouldn’t come to the baseball field if it weren’t for something important.’

“So Jack ran quickly home, following Brutus. There he found Patty with the bug on her tongue and feeling most uncomfortable.

“Jack quickly took the bug off and then Patty no longer looked sick and miserable.

“She jumped up on Jack and wagged her tail and her eyes looked very glad and happy as she tried to thank her master. And then she did quite the sweetest thing ever a dog did. She suddenly seemed to know that Brutus was the one who had done everything.

“Jack had come quickly when Brutus had called him, for Jack was always so good to his pets, and Jack had been able to take the bug off her tongue because he had nice useful hands.

“But Patty knew that it was Brutus who had gone for Jack, and Brutus who had brought him back so quickly.

“And Patty went over to Brutus, looking so small beside the great big Newfoundland dog and she licked Brutus’ paws and rolled over on the grass, saying to Brutus that she was a very grateful, happy, little dog.

“And then, for a special treat, every one of them had a bone, and Jack gave himself a piece of cake!” ended daddy.

MARCH 15: Biddle’s Trick

“Biddle the cat,” said daddy, “was very thirsty and he wanted to get a drink of milk.”

“‘Look,’ one of the family suddenly exclaimed. And from the study they could see a light in the pantry.

“When they went into the pantry there was Biddle on the pantry shelf and he had just pressed with his paw the electric light button—so the light had gone on!

“‘Do you want something, Biddle?’ one of the family asked, after they had all exclaimed at the wonderful thing which Biddle had just done.

“Biddle purred, and looked at the ice box, and they got some milk for him.

“But don’t you think it was clever of him to get the family into the pantry by turning on the light? This is a true story of Biddle Birdsall, the clever gray pussy-cat.”

MARCH 16: The Naughty Colds

Mr. and Mrs. Cold were having a very good time. Now, when most people have a good time it means that they’re playing or singing or laughing or dancing or reading or hearing music.

Perhaps it means they’re having a party of some sort, or perhaps it may mean they’re in swimming or having a picnic. Oh, there are lots and lots of ways of having good times as every one knows.

But when Mr. and Mrs. Cold have a good time it is something very different from what we mean by a good time. In the first place, Mr. and Mrs. Cold are very disagreeable people. They have always been disagreeable. Their daddy and mother were the same way, and as for Aunt Grippe and their Uncle Bronchitis—well, they’re horrid old creatures, I can tell you.

Mr. and Mrs. Cold have very mean children, too. There is Sadie Sneeze, for example. She has the worst sort of a disposition! She just loves to plague people and make them as uncomfortable as she can.

Then there is Charlie Cough. He likes to hurt creatures. You can just imagine how mean he is. And there is Susy Sore Throat, and Hatty Headache. They are all children of Mr. and Mrs. Cold.

“Let’s go on a trip,” they said to the children.

“All right,” said the children. They always agree to go a-traveling, and the worst thing about them is that they have many cousins and relations, and their cousins and relations are just as busy a-traveling as they are!

“I think,” said Mrs. Cold, “we’ll go and call on a little girl named Annette. She is such a nice little girl, I’d like to make her feel uncomfortable. Let’s give her a good dose of us.”

And the Cold children clapped their hands.

“Is she nice?” they said. And when their mother and daddy said:

“Oh, she is wonderfully nice,” they were just overjoyed. That is how mean they are. They love to be horrid to nice, nice boys and girls and grown-ups!

So they picked up their suitcases with plenty of Sadie Sneeze’s best frocks, and plenty of Charlie Cough’s extra neckties, and lots of Hatty Headache’s hair ribbons and Susy Sore Throat’s collars and off they went. Their hair ribbons and collars and dresses aren’t like nice children’s, for they are mean like themselves!

“Oh, please,” said Annette, when they all arrived, “I didn’t ask you to come and see me. I don’t need you. I have a nice daddy and a nice mother all of my own. I don’t want Mr. and Mrs. Cold, and I have two nice brothers, and I don’t want any others, or even any sisters. Please go away.”

But the Cold family paid no attention. They were so mean they liked being where they weren’t wanted.

But the time passed and the dream king found out that Annette had some horrid visitors. The dream king hurried to tell the fairy queen about it.

“Did you ever hear of such rudeness and such unkindness as that horrible Cold family show?” he said.

“We’ll put a stop to this, Dream King,” said the fairy queen. “Thank you for telling me. I know that little girl Annette. Yes, I know her well. She has golden hair and fair skin and blue eyes. And she lives in a city house. Ah, yes, I know her. Just like that horrid Cold family to go and bother some one who is nice!”

The fairy queen set to work. She called together all her assistants and they hurried to Annette’s house when she was fast asleep.

They gave the Cold family a good talking to and they waved their wands over Annette so that the Cold family were driven away.

And in the meantime the old dream king had told the dream fairies about Annette and they made up the most wonderful package of dreams, lovely dreams sent to her as she was getting all, all well again. But the dream king himself made up this poem for her:

“Annette is so nice, Annette is so sweet, Just Annette herself is a great big treat!”

MARCH 17: Why the Shamrock is Worn on St. Patrick’s Day

“It is said,” daddy told the children, “that the shamrock keeps away the snakes which St. Patrick drove out of Ireland, for they cannot live and thrive where the shamrock grows.

“But there is a legend about St. Patrick which I think I’ll have to tell you to-night.

“What are said to be St. Patrick’s footprints can be seen on the rocks off the shore by the Skerries harbor. The story goes that once a chieftain named Dichu drew his sword to strike St. Patrick. When he was about to do this cruel deed his own arm became perfectly stiff until he said he’d be obedient to St. Patrick. Then St. Patrick taught him to be good and kind.

“Still another interesting story is that of the idol worshipers. St. Patrick went into the place where these people were and found them worshiping the idols. There was a huge pillar of stone with the chief idol on top of it. It was covered with slabs of gold and silver, and around it in a circle were twelve other idols. St. Patrick smote the chief idol with his crozier and the idol crumbled to dust at once.”

MARCH 18: St. Patrick

“Daddy, do tell us this evening more about St. Patrick,” asked Jack and Evelyn.

“He was born in 372,” said daddy. “When he was only sixteen years old he was stolen by pirates. They did not treat him at all well, and he was sold by them into slavery in Ireland.

“His master had him look after pigs in the mountains. But Patrick had a strange dream in which the Lord told him to run away and set out for a far-away country. He had been seven years in Ireland, so he was used to its language and all its customs and manners. After a time he was ordained a deacon, then a priest, and finally he became a bishop. At this point the pope told him to return to Ireland to preach the gospel to the Irish people. Since then he has always been known as St. Patrick. One story is that on a bitter cold morning St. Patrick and a number of his followers found they could not possibly build a fire. They had had no breakfast and were half frozen. St. Patrick listened to their complaints for a while, and then he told them to gather up the snow in a pile. This they did. St. Patrick breathed on it, and it became a fire.

“Another tale is that St. Patrick beat the drum so loudly when driving the snakes out of Ireland that he knocked a hole in it, but that an angel appeared and mended it, so that the drum was afterward kept as a relic.

“It is told that in one part of Ireland from which St. Patrick drove the snakes and toads he chained one huge serpent by a lake called in Irish Lough Dilveen and told him to stay until Monday. The people around the district still claim that every Monday they hear the serpent calling out in the Irish dialect, ‘It’s a long Monday, St. Patrick!’

“St. Patrick is said to have died on the 17th of March, 493, aged 121. His grave is at Dunpatrick, Ireland, and a tombstone now bears his name cut in Irish characters.”

MARCH 19: The Clocks

“I think I shall tell you the story of the talking that went on one day in a clock shop when the old clock mender had gone to his lunch,” said daddy.

“‘My master is so lazy!’ said the Eight-Day Clock. ‘He keeps saying: “Oh, dear, I must wind up that Clock.” And then he grabs a newspaper and sits down and reads. He quite forgets about me. He should wind me up when it is time. Gracious, I strike so he can tell I need to be wound up. But he doesn’t pay much attention. He just winds me up after I have had to stop for days. And such a fine Clock as I am, too.’

“‘You may be a fine Clock,’ said the little Watch with the broken mainspring, ‘but I don’t see as it does you any good. You are always being brought here.’

“‘I can’t help it,’ said the Eight-Day Clock. ‘You see, I get so upset over not being wound up and I get so tired and worried wondering if my master will remember, that I get feeling run down. Then I weep a Clock’s tears, which only we Clocks and Watches know about. We feel so badly when we are not treated right. And then when we feel badly it upsets our works and we have to be brought to the clock mender’s shop. But I wish we could teach our masters a lesson,’ said the Eight-Day Clock.

“‘We will,’ said the Cuckoo Clock.

“‘What will we do?’ asked the rest.

“‘We will be so hard to mend,’ said the Cuckoo Clock, ‘that we will make the clock mender charge great big prices. And then our masters will look after us.’ And all the Clocks at once looked happier.”

MARCH 20: A Party and Polly

“Polly want a cracker, ha, ha,” laughed the parrot.

“No, Polly doesn’t want a cracker, ha, ha,” the parrot continued. “For there is no one in the room to give me a cracker, and I’ve eaten up the one I had in my cage. I have some seed and some water, but not a trace of a cracker.”

Polly, the parrot, stepped out of her cage and looked about the room. She flew this way and that, and she had a good-sized room in which to fly—a room with very high ceilings.

“Polly doesn’t see a cracker,” she said to herself. She couldn’t talk to any one else, you see, because there was no one else in the room. And she knew perfectly well that the pictures on the walls and the rugs on the floor didn’t care about being talked to. She had never heard them say anything or fly about or walk about—and she knew very well why they couldn’t.

Because they weren’t live things. They weren’t people, nor were they animals, nor birds. They were nothing but rugs and pictures and extremely, extremely silly.

She hadn’t been looking about long when her mistress came in all dressed up in a most beautiful manner.

“Well, Polly,” her mistress said, “we are having a party to-day.”

“Polly have a party, Polly have a party,” said the parrot.

And when the guests arrived Polly looked down from her perch and said: “Polly have a party, Polly have a party.” How every one did laugh and admire the nice, cheerful, friendly Polly Parrot. And her mistress was very proud of Polly!

MARCH 21: Salt, Pepper and Sugar

“Creatures and things aren’t to be admired who won’t take the trouble to go out of their way to do nice things,” said Sugar of the Sugar Bowl. “And as the Sugar Bowl can’t go walking around looking for nice things to do at least it can admire the Salt Cellar and the Pepper Shaker for the work they do in seasoning and making things have a good taste.”

“Ah, Sugar Bowl,” said the Salt Cellar, “I am glad to hear you talk this way. For some time I have been afraid that you didn’t have enough character. I was very much afraid that you were becoming too sugary and too weak!

“The Pepper Shaker would tell you, too, how much he thinks of you, but if he comes about too much he is apt to make people sneeze. He doesn’t like to do that. He can’t help it if too much of him is used, but he hates to be used like that. He likes to add to the taste of things, but not to be made out a cruel creature.

“Yes, he had a terrible blow once. He was treated so badly! It wasn’t fair to him at all.

“Some very mean boys and girls thought it would be fun to put sneezing powder in the flowers which they would give to their friends to smell. Then as their friends began to sneeze they would laugh.

“Well, a great deal of my Pepper friend was used then. He made those people sneeze and he didn’t want to in the least. Oh, he did feel so badly about it. It wasn’t funny, he said, it was mean, out and out mean! The people who sneezed were miserable. Their noses hurt, their throats hurt and they couldn’t sleep for several nights.

“One little girl who had sneezed so hard and so much lost her voice for several days, for the sneezing powder got down in her throat, and her throat has never been quite so strong since.

“So I think we should all be used in our places and not too much of any of us, for if too much sugar is used things will be sickish and if too much pepper or salt is used the poor pepper and salt creatures are taken a mean advantage of!”

MARCH 22: A Sun Parlor for Birds

“There was once a grown-up lady,” said daddy, “who had loved the stories of the fairies and of birds and flowers when she had been a little girl. She had so loved to read of all the kind deeds of the fairies that she had made up her mind that when she grew up she would do something kind too.

“Well, this lady had the roof of her house made into a Sun Parlor. There were trees all round, and moss, and little pools of water which she had fixed to look as much like out-of-doors as possible. The Sun Parlor she had inclosed in glass. Of course the glass made the sun shine through all the brighter. And she had little wee doors so the birds could get in and out, but so small that a cat could never get into this bird home.

“But still more wonderful was a big cellar where all kinds of good apples, bread crumbs, more water and countless goodies were kept.”

“But how could the birds get from the roof to the cellar?” asked Jack.

“I don’t wonder you ask that,” said daddy. “The lady had all that part beautifully arranged. In the Sun Parlor were tunnels which led down into the cellar, and the birds used to love going through these dark passages into the ‘Goody-shop’ as it was called in Bird language—and it sounded the same to them as it would to you in Boy-and-Girl language.

“At first the birds were tempted into their winter home by the bread crumbs that were in the Sun Parlor. For, of course, as you can imagine, it took the birds some time to get used to a beautiful summer home in the winter that was really just for them. Soon, though, little birds know when people are being kind to them.

“Of course the lady let all the birds who wanted to come in have just as good a time and stay just as long as they wanted to. But she especially wanted little sick birds who had perhaps fallen out of their nests.

“One day the lady came across a baby Robin whose family had arrived before the warm weather. The baby Robin had fallen from its nest, and very gently the lady picked him up and took him to the Sun Parlor. The mother was crying near-by for she saw her baby being taken away from her and she couldn’t help at all.

“But she saw from the top of a tree where her little sick baby was taken. How happy and relieved she was—for, of course, she had to be in her nest with all the other little Robins. But she sang every day the most wonderful songs for the lady who watched over her baby Robin until it was quite strong and able to fly.”

MARCH 23: The Automobiles

“Honk-honk, it seems a pity,” said one automobile to the other. “I know I seem like the rudest sort of an old thing. I scare folks, and children just run when they see me coming. But it does seem a pity. Yes, it seems a shame that I can’t help it.

“One day I was resting. My owner had gone inside a building. I heard a little girl and an old lady talking. The little girl said, ‘I’ve been quite ill and my heart is just beginning to get strong. I have a horrible time crossing the street, for I simply cannot walk across. Those old automobiles make me run.’

“The old lady said to the little girl, ‘I know just how you feel, my dear, for I have been ill too, and I am not supposed to run fast. It hurts me when I run fast and yet I have to hurry to get out of the way of the automobiles.’

“‘I don’t see why they have to make people run, when they’re not going to fires and they’re not going after accidents,’ said the little girl. ‘It does not seem fair in the least.’

“‘It doesn’t,’ said the old lady. ‘But I don’t suppose the people who run automobiles are ever sick. They don’t know what it means to have a horn tooted at them when they feel they cannot run.

“‘And it seems a pity that folks should be in so much of a hurry, as they run along in their automobiles, that they can’t give those who are walking a fair chance, too.’

“Sometimes I wish I weren’t an automobile.”

“Sometimes I wish I were one with a different owner,” said the second automobile.

“Maybe we will be sold and nice people will own us, who will consider those who are walking,” said the first automobile.

“Let’s hope so,” said the second automobile.

“There’s the first star of the evening,” said the first automobile. “We’ll make a wish.”

So the modern automobiles wished in the old, old way, their wishes!

MARCH 24: The Trailing Arbutus

“We mustn’t waste any more time,” whispered one of the trailing arbutus family to another.

“No, we mustn’t. We must awaken for we are first to awaken every year. And all the families in this part get up soon.

“Years ago,” continued the second arbutus, “some children came here to look for trailing arbutus flowers. They said to each other:

“‘It must be too soon. There aren’t any.’ But they looked under some of our leaves and several of us were trying to peep out as fast as we could, so we would not disappoint the children.

“Many of our sisters and brothers were picked and I believe they came out later in water.

“But those same children have come back every year, and now they are almost grown-up. They always say,

“‘Here is the first place we find these lovely spring flowers.’ And so we know what is expected of us. Our roots always hand on this story to all the arbutus flowers.”

And now along came the grown-ups and some children.

“We hide our heads under the leaves because we’re shy, but we love children and the whole beautiful world, so pick lots of us, and we’ll be bright and gay,” softly whispered the flowers.

But the children only knew that the flowers were very, very fragrant, and oh, so very sweet!

MARCH 25: The Telephone Dog

“The telephone always seemed very important to Rogue, the collie,” said daddy. “He had known his mistress to rush out after the telephone had rung and she had answered it, as if some one were ill, or something had happened which she had found to be of very great importance.

“She was working in the garden one day when Rogue heard the telephone ring. Evidently she didn’t hear it, for she stayed out in the garden and didn’t come in to answer it. It rang and it rang, and Rogue didn’t know what to do.

“Finally he thought up a scheme, and this is what he did. He ran out in the garden and he stood before his mistress and barked and barked without stopping. First she stroked him and didn’t seem to think anything special was the matter, but that, perhaps, he wanted to play.

“He kept on barking, and after a few minutes she said: ‘What is the matter, Rogue?’

“He started to go towards the house, barking, and turned around to see if she were following him. When she didn’t he went and pulled at her skirt. Then she went into the house, following Rogue, and he stopped before the telephone which was still ringing.

“She answered it and found that it had been ringing a long time, but it was so important that they had kept on ringing to see if she wouldn’t hear it after a while.

“Then she knew that Rogue had let her know the telephone was ringing and wanted her to come to answer it, for that was something he couldn’t do. But he could let her know that it was ringing, now that he had found a way of doing so.

“And now Rogue always lets his mistress know when the telephone is ringing. She works in her garden a great deal but she never misses a telephone call because Rogue hears it, barks for her, and leads her in before the telephone.”

MARCH 26: The Kettle’s Trouble

“I’m not angry,” said the kettle. “I’m hurt. My poor porcelain feelings are most dreadfully hurt. A child tried to move me and in so doing she spilled some of the boiling water over herself.”

“I wasn’t quite boiling,” said the water; “very nearly boiling I was, though.”

“Don’t interrupt,” said the kettle. “You’ve caused me enough trouble. Well, the child got quite badly burned. It hurt awfully, for burns always do.”

“Yes,” said the butter, from the ice box in the corner of the kitchen, “she came to me to be comforted. Butter is excellent for burns.”

“But she blamed me for burning her,” said the kettle. “She said that ‘the horrid old kettle burned her,’ and it wasn’t I at all.”

But the water, fire, paper, sticks, coal and match each in turn quickly said they were not to blame but only the cook, for starting the fire in the first place!

MARCH 27: Mr. Measles’ Puzzle

“Go away, go away,” said Peter Goblin. “You mustn’t come around here. No, you mustn’t. I won’t have it, not for a moment will I have it.”

“May we talk to you, then?” asked Mr. Measles, as he hurried off.

“Yes, I will come and talk to you, but you mustn’t stay around here. Goblins don’t get measles, but children do, and I won’t have it. Hurry off. Hurry off.”

“Wouldn’t they like to have us?” asked Mr. Mumps. “Just think how we’d make their faces puff up and look so fine and fat.”

“Yes,” said Peter Goblin, crossly, “and make it hard for them to swallow. No sir, no sir, you get right away from here.”

“How about me?” asked Mrs. Croup.

“You go away, too,” said Peter Goblin.

“Can’t I have just one little look at a nice little boy or a nice little girl?” asked Master Chicken-Pox.

“You most certainly cannot,” said Peter Goblin.

“I don’t see why not,” said Mr. Measles crossly. He had come back a little because he had heard the others talking to Peter Goblin and he thought perhaps Peter had given in. Of course he had never known him to, but he might—one could never tell.

“I thought I’d told you to start off,” said Peter Goblin. “Now I won’t put up with any more of this nonsense. Be off—all of you. Be off, right away.”

“You promised to talk to us,” said Mr. Measles. “You will, won’t you?”

“But we’d rather have a little chat with a child first,” said Mr. Mumps.

“Maybe you would like to,” said Peter Goblin, “but you’re not going to. And so, one, two, three—go! Every one of you. I’ll follow along.”

“Now, what is the use,” Mr. Mumps muttered, “of being able to make some folks fat when one isn’t given the chance?”

“You don’t want to make them fat and well,” said Peter Goblin.

They had all wandered quite far away from the children and so Peter Goblin felt they were safe. He would get many of his goblins right to work to keep an eye on them, for goblins cannot get measles, mumps, chicken-pox or croup.

“Yes, I make them fat,” said Mr. Mumps. “I never bother about more than their cheeks. They grumble so after I’ve made them fat that I get disheartened.”

“Good thing you do,” said Peter Goblin. “You’re certainly mean enough.”

Mr. Mumps knew Peter was right, so didn’t say another word. Mr. Measles spoke next.

“We wanted to have you talk to us,” said Mr. Measles, “because we cannot understand you.”

“Why not?” asked Peter Goblin. “I try to protect the children from getting measles, mumps, chicken-pox and croup. Of course they have to help me by trying to keep as well and strong as they can so as to escape you. Whenever one of you gets past us, how badly we do feel. You often do, but we try our best to keep you out. We can’t keep you out entirely but we can help.

“And then good, kind doctors drive you away.”

“We hate doctors,” said Mr. Measles.

“Well,” said Mrs. Croup, “we shouldn’t hate them so much, because we give them a lot of trouble, and we love to give trouble.”

“That’s so, we do,” said Master Chicken-Pox.

“But,” said Mr. Measles, “people say, ‘oh, don’t catch the measles. And be careful not to catch the mumps. Don’t go near any one with chicken-pox or you might catch it.’”

“Now, to catch a thing,” continued Mr. Measles, “means to chase after it or try to get it in some way. If they don’t like us why do they talk about catching measles? They say ‘Be careful not to catch Mr. Mumps.’ It’s very silly, for if they really don’t like us, they should say, ‘Don’t let Mr. Mumps catch you.’”

“It’s rather an absurd expression,” admitted Peter Goblin, “but stay away from children and talk about it for a good long while. That’s what you must all do!”

MARCH 28: Winter’s Exit

“When we speak of a person making an exit,” said daddy, “we mean that the person has gone out, and so when we speak of the winter’s exit, we mean that the winter has made his departure. The winter was quite angry that Mr. Sun was so eager to see the spring.

“‘I’d think,’ said the winter, ‘you’d be a little scrap more polite, anyway. It always makes me so mad that I just hang around and hang around, and laugh when I hear folks say: “Isn’t the winter ever going?”’

“‘Are you going to make your last bow soon?’ asked Mr. Sun.

“‘To-morrow,’ said the winter. ‘Yes, by to-morrow I’ll really have to go. And after this last little snow-storm there’ll be no more until next year. Ah, what a sad thought that is to me, though it’s not such a sad thought for others. They seem to be so absurdly fond of young spring. They spoil him frightfully.’

“‘And you won’t really send any more blizzards?’ asked Mr. Sun.

“‘I can’t,’ said the winter, ‘because you would cross that old Equator.’

“Mr. Sun smiled and the winter said: ‘I’ll take a rest now and fool the people! They’ll think it’s really spring, and then I’ll give them my fine farewell to-morrow.’

“And sure enough on the morrow there was a light fall of snow. The spring hardly knew what to make of it at first, until he found it was so light a storm.

“‘That’s the winter’s bow as he makes his exit,’ said Mr. Sun to the spring.

“And the spring sent out the early Breezes and said: ‘Whisper to the birds, the buds, the children that I’ve really, really come, and that winter has made his exit!’”

MARCH 29: Another Biddle Story

“I must tell you another story about the gray cat, Biddle Birdsall,” said daddy. “His mistress Gertrude was away at school. His mistress’ mother and daddy were out, and the cook was out. It was a very sad household for a cat who wanted a drink of milk.

“Then he had an idea! He went into his master’s study and emptying the waste-paper basket in a pile on the floor, he pushed the waste-paper basket towards the pantry door.

“When he had finished pushing the basket and when it was right up by the door he turned it upside down and climbed upon it.

“‘There,’ thought Biddle, ‘now I have it.’

“And he had! He opened that door with his two front paws, turning the knob until it was undone and he could push the door open.

“Then he moved the basket away, opened the door wide, and purring delightedly to himself, he walked inside the pantry.

“There was the milk in the saucer, and then, as you can easily guess, Biddle had the milk which he wanted. When he was drinking it the family came home and saw Biddle and the waste-paper basket and saw just what he had done. And this is another true story of the cat, Biddle Birdsall,” ended daddy.

MARCH 30: The Squirrels’ Spring Work

“A little girl named Gwen had fixed a squirrel house on a pear tree near an old apple tree,” said daddy. “Now, the apple tree was near Gwen’s bedroom, and the squirrels could jump from the apple tree to her window-sill, where they were very likely to find nuts waiting for them.

“When the days began to get a little warmer Gwen hung just outside the window-sill a little hammock and waited to see if the squirrels would dare to swing in it. Having all the nuts Gwen put on her window-sill and seeing her do such kind things so often made them pretty tame. And, too, they appeared to realize that it was Gwen who had seen to the building of the little house.

“But the hammock seemed very strange to them at first. However, one very brave squirrel thought he’d try it and jumped into the hammock. Gwen was watching back of a curtain, and it was all she could do to keep from crying aloud with joy, for she was so pleased that one of the squirrels was actually using her little hammock. After a while the other squirrels tried it.

“Before long one of the old squirrels began to scold for all he was worth. Oh, he was very much annoyed, and all the squirrels stopped swinging in the hammock. They seemed to be paying great attention to the old squirrel, and Gwen wondered what it was all about.

“The old squirrel was the leader, and he was the one who always gave the directions and did all the managing. This, in squirrel language, was what he said:

“‘Now, don’t you know you can’t spend all your time idling! You are the laziest lot of squirrels I have ever known. Don’t you know that you must get to work? This is the season for us to tap the sirup from the maple trees, and you are spending your time swinging in a hammock. It is all very well to play, but then there is work to be done. We don’t want to waste our time and let all the good sap go, do we? And you really do want the maple sirup, don’t you?’

“Off they started to scamper to the nearest maple tree. Gwen put on her hat and coat and followed along to see what they were going to do. They got all the sap they wanted and smacked their lips over it. They enjoyed the work really, for it meant good times to follow, and they were glad the wise old squirrel had told them about it in plenty of time.”

MARCH 31: The Bunch of Keys

The keys were all talking in their jingling way. “I open a drawer in which birthday presents are locked up before the birthday has come,” said one of the keys. “I know so many secrets, all about presents and nice things for celebrations.”

“I open the cake tin,” said another key, “and there is going to be a birthday cake to-morrow all decorated with candles. There is going to be a party.”

“So I’ll be used too,” said the candy drawer key.

“And I will too,” said the birthday drawer key.

“And I will too,” said the key which opened the money box, “for some little treats will be bought.”

“We’ll jingle to-morrow, all right,” said the keys in chorus, “for we are going to open up secrets and pleasures and treats for a birthday celebration.”

And the keys all sang:

“If you’re a key, a key, You can see, can see, The opening of joys, For girls and for boys.”

APRIL 1: Marketing

“It is surprising,” said Mr. Robin, “how many creatures forget that they’re not the only ones who go marketing.

“Ladies go to the shops and they think they’re the only ones who see that their families are fed. But they’re not at all. Now, all of the robins go a-marketing. We are very good at it. And most of the gentlemen birds do the marketing when the mother birds are watching over the eggs and the little birdlings.”

[Illustration: “‘THIS IS THE SEASON FOR US TO TAP THE SIRUP FROM THE MAPLE TREES, AND YOU ARE SPENDING YOUR TIME SWINGING IN A HAMMOCK.’”—_Page 73_]

“That is so,” agreed Mrs. Robin; “the dear father birds are splendid about looking after the food for the home when we’re busy guarding the nests and seeing that the eggs hatch out into dear little birdlings.

“And you always know where to get the best worms.”

“To be sure,” said Mr. Robin, “and that is what I meant when I said that though we did not go to the same markets as people we went marketing, too.

“What a horrible thing it would be if people did come to the lawns and began digging up all the worms! Gracious, the poor birds would have a dreadful time!

“But they don’t do that any more than we go to the grocery stores and tell the grocer to please do us up a package of potatoes and another of onions, and one more of meat which we’d order at the meat shop.

“It is fair the way things are divided up. In this way the lawns don’t run short of worms as they otherwise might do.”

APRIL 2: The Buds’ Secrets

“Some of the tree buds,” said daddy, “were talking about themselves softly. ‘We do so enjoy being liked,’ said the little bud which had grown the most. ‘We love to be encouraged—helped along.’

“‘But how can any one help a bud?’ asked a Fairy who happened along then.

“‘The Sun encourages us by shining and smiling at us. The South Wind whispers secrets to us and we are helped so much by the secrets—for the South Wind tells us such lovely things. And she promises us more sunshine, more warmth, more brightness. And then there are the Clouds and their promises. They tell us they will not forget about the April showers. They never have, and I don’t believe they ever will.’

“‘And,’ the bud continued, ‘it is so glorious to burst into bud and bloom again after a long winter when the branches of the tree are bare that we like to do it slowly and enjoy every second of it. Besides, the tree has been so used to being lonely that it would be too much of a shock if we came forth all at once. We just peep forth first of all and tell the tree that we are coming, for spring is here.’

“‘Ah, how young I feel,’ said a very little bud.

“‘We all feel so young, too,’ said the other buds.

“‘You are all wonderfully young,’ said the Fairy. ‘You are buds, wonderful spring buds, and you’ll soon be leaves!’

“The buds came forth a little more and smiled gently at the Fairy to show her how pleased they were at the kind things she was saying to them, and when they smiled a little more green showed.

“The grown-ups that day said, ‘How far the buds came out to-day. They’ll soon be leaves if they keep coming out at this rate.’

“But the little Fairy knew the secrets of the buds.”

APRIL 3: The Clock and the Watch

“Now when I say,” the watch began, “that I have to hurry and catch up—or rather try to catch up—I mean that my master has a foolish way of trying to hurry me up at the last moment. He waits and fusses and wastes his time, and then he wonders how he can reach somewhere on time—reaching there almost before he starts if he wants to be on time. Then I hurry and try to catch up to him as he seems in such a rush. And the trouble is I’m way ahead of the time he wants me to be. I try to keep up with his hurrying—for after he has wasted a great deal of time he does try to hurry. In fact he runs around all day trying to catch up with himself, and I run around with him. But it’s of no use. He tried putting me way ahead of time one day not long ago, but it was senseless when I disagreed with every other watch, and every one said to my master, ‘Your watch is fast.’ We watches must agree, you know, and so I just get nervous trying to catch up with the lost moments for my master, and the only thing, I think, for him to do is to expect less of me and to start off everything ON TIME!”

APRIL 4: Billie’s Springtime

“I’d like to tell my story,” said Billie to the Fairy Wondrous Secrets. “People are always wondering what babies think about and what they are planning to do when they grow up—if they are planning to do anything or not. They wonder so much about us, and so I’d like to tell my story. I don’t know about other babies. But I would like to tell about myself, if no one minds.”

“I’d like to hear,” said the Fairy Wondrous Secrets.

Now Billie was in a baby-carriage which was out on the front porch of a little house in the country. Billie’s mother was busy and so was Billie’s daddy, but Billie, they knew, was quite safe in the carriage on the porch where the soft spring air was blowing.

No one was around but the Fairy Wondrous Secrets and if any one had come around the Fairy Wondrous Secrets would have vanished quickly.

“I’m really a little girl,” Billie began, “though my name is something like a boy’s name, I believe. You see my great big daddy’s name is Bill and my mother wanted to name me after him. She couldn’t have my real name Billie, but she had every one call me that, so it’s my daytime every-day name, and my best, dress-up name is Mary Ann, or Marion or some such fine name after my mother.

“I came to the world in December,” said Billie. “You see, Fairy, I thought it would be fun to arrive in the world when everything was so exciting. Christmas was coming on and it was very gay and merry.

“I’ve had a nice winter, but now is the best time I’ve known, for it’s springtime. And I’ll tell you, Fairy Wondrous Secrets, I feel as though it were all my own springtime.

“I feel the soft, warm wind blow over my little pink cheeks which every one admires so much and I smile and I croon and I make soft little singing sounds as the trees do. And I look around to smile at the trees and the bushes, too, and to let them see my blue eyes. I ask them if they think my eyes look like the blue sky, for the bushes and the trees are always looking up at the sky, so they should surely know.

“I can see the yellow forsythia upon the bushes, and how gay and lovely it is. The lilacs are in bud, and there are white blossoms on the bushes. Back of our house there are some waterfalls and they laugh and gurgle as they dash over the rocks, something the way I laugh and gurgle.

“I believe it is their way of kicking with fun. I kick with fun when my mother puts me in the wash-basin every morning. The wash-basin, Fairy Wondrous Secrets, is my bathtub, and I splash and kick and laugh and have such a good time! I don’t care if the water spills over the floor any more than I imagine the waterfalls care that they spill water over the rocks. They enjoy it! So do I!

“I can see the ducks and hear them quack, quack. I hear that sometimes they lay seven eggs a day. The chickens and the hens and the roosters walk about and chatter, and one day a lady passed and said ‘Hello,’ to a chicken and the chicken got up from the ground most politely as a mannerly person would do, I’m told.

“The pussy-willows are out and the skunk-cabbage is in bloom. There are red flowers and yellow flowers and little star flowers. The trees are full of buds or little leaves or blossoms of different colors. There is a little turtle who is sunning himself by the brook near-by and who is an interesting creature, I have heard. He wears a shell over his back as I wear a little knitted jacket.

“At night I hear the crickets when I wake up for my bottle. And I believe these creatures all like the country, too. The chickens and the ducks say that in the cities they aren’t wanted and they wouldn’t be allowed to wander about, so they wouldn’t leave the country for anything.

“And one evening I saw a moon in the sky. My daddy told me it was a moon and surely he knows! And over the moon there was a bright gold star, and I made a wish. This was my wish: that other babies might have happy homes as I have, where they don’t want to cry, because there is no reason to cry. I’m well looked after, I’m never spoilt and they love me; so why should I cry? But what I’m thinking about mostly, these days, is of how lucky I am to have such a daddy and mother and to see the beautiful springtime in the country.”

APRIL 5: Brenda’s Easter Visit

“Her name is Brenda,” said daddy, “and when I saw her yesterday she told me that every year at Easter time she went to the head nurse of the big hospital and found out the names of all the children. Then she went shopping, and it took her a long time to pick out things for little sick children. She picked out for each child a big round chocolate egg which rattled, for inside it there were little sugar candies; also a chocolate chicken and a chocolate bunny. She always picked out ones that had lots of expression too. Around the egg she tied a big red ribbon, around the chocolate chicken’s neck she tied a bright green ribbon, and around the bunny’s neck she tied a bright purple ribbon. Then she put them in a little box and wrote on the box the child’s name.

“Last year Brenda went to the hospital the day before Easter. It was far from being a pleasant day. There was a cold wind in the air and no sun.

“She arrived at the hospital just as all the little children had had their wounds dressed. They were lying in their little white cots trying to keep back the tears that wanted to come.

“Brenda asked the nurse if she could go inside with the gifts.

“‘Yes, indeed!’ said the nurse. ‘The children would love that. The child’s name in the first cot,’ continued the nurse very softly, ‘is Elsa. She has hurt her back, and no one knows how long she will have to lie there.’

“‘Elsa,’ said Brenda, ‘happy Easter. A little chocolate bunny, a little chocolate chicken and a big chocolate egg all said they wanted to wish you a happy Easter.’

“Elsa opened her half shut eyes and clutched the box. She opened it eagerly. There they all were! And the chocolate bunny did have the funniest expression! He would have made any one laugh, and his purple ribbon bow was sticking way up on one side with such a saucy expression. Elsa burst out laughing. Afterward the nurse told Brenda it was the first time she’d seen Elsa laugh since she’d been brought to the hospital.

“Then Brenda took the rest of her boxes around to all the other little sick children. And such happiness as there was in the ward!”

APRIL 6: An Uninvited Guest

The children were just finishing their lunches which they had been eating in the school yard and were going back to their classes when what should they see but a bear!

“Oh, oh, hurry, scurry, run, run,” they all cried.

“Oh, what an escape!” some of them panted, when they were safe in a nice big barn down the road.

But the bear was having the time of his life.

“Well, well, well,” he growled, “I really don’t understand it at all. Children come to the circus and gaze and gaze at us, and tell their mothers and their daddies how nice they think we are. But how they did run! And I had come to pay them a nice call.

“Sniff-sniff, what is it I smell?” continued the bear. And then he jumped around for joy. “Goodies! Food! Wonderful, wonderful food! How kind of the dear little children. They really expected me to lunch—for they’ve left lots of food—and when I came they didn’t want to make me uncomfortable by watching me eat.

“Ah, now, I have had a fine meal, a luxurious meal, fit for a king—no, fit for a bear!” And the bear rubbed his front paw over his well-filled tummy and again growled delightedly to himself some more, saying over and over again: “Delicious; such a meal!”

But along came the keeper of the animals of the circus and led the bear back to his cage. For a circus was traveling through the country and when they had stopped for a rest this bear had escaped. But what a tale he had to tell when he got back to the circus again!

APRIL 7: The Tired Honeysuckle

“I’m very tired,” said the Honeysuckle, “and I’d really almost rather not come up this spring.”

“But you are supposed to come up every year,” said the Hyacinth. “You are like me, my dear: your roots are good and lasting. We don’t have to be replanted from seeds every spring.”

“Yes, what you say is perfectly true,” said the Honeysuckle. “But then I am old, so very, very old.”

“How old are you?” whispered the Hyacinth in a very low voice which the Wind carried on his shoulders.

“I am so many years old I can’t remember. This garden I’ve heard people say has been kept just like this for over a hundred years, and the house near-by is just as old—in fact, it is older. I’ve been here a very large part of that time.”

“Well,” said the Hyacinth, “then I don’t blame you for feeling tired. I should think you would want to rest. Let them start another Honeysuckle growing. You’ve worked hard enough.”

“Ah,” said the Honeysuckle, “that’s just what you don’t understand. I am tired, very tired. But ah, I must blossom because of the people.”

“What people?” asked the Hyacinth.

“The people in this house. You see, I am just outside a window, growing on my vine, and my sweet fragrance can be carried indoors. Of course yours can, too, dear old Hyacinth, though you aren’t so old, are you? But I last all through the summer, and you are just a glorious spring flower.”

“Then it’s no wonder you get tired out. And you have to give the bumblebees honey. Your honey is very fine, I have heard.”

“And don’t forget the humming-birds,” said the Honeysuckle. “They love me every bit as much as the bumblebees do. And I love them too! The little dears! But I must tell you the reason why I come up each year, even though sometimes it seems so hard.

“Years and years ago I was planted by a little girl—a little girl, Mary Alice, who loved flowers and who could always make them grow. And above all the flowers she loved her red Honeysuckle best of all. She watched over me. She gave me drinks. She dug up the earth around my roots. She made me so comfortable. And for a very special occasion she would pluck off a spray of my red blossoms and wear them.

“Now Mary Alice grew up to be a big lady—though she was never very big. She always seemed like a little girl to me, for she was so dainty, so small and so lovely. Her eyes were very blue and her hair very golden. But as the years went by each spring I noticed that silver was growing in her hair, and then one spring I saw that it was quite white.

“During all this time there were other little children growing up—and now there are some more. And I always saw my little girl—for I thought of her as that even when she was quite, quite old—smiling at all the little faces, and the children would smile at her—never scowls—always smiles. Somehow no one could have scowled at Mary Alice, and I don’t believe she ever scowled at any one. For when her hair was white, her forehead had no wrinkles.

“Every spring she would be waiting for me. ‘There comes my honeysuckle,’ she would say. The last few years it has been very hard to come up. My roots have lost their strength, but I have come along as best I could, for I have thought of Mary Alice and her smiles.

“Last year she was sitting by her window and looking out at me. ‘That honeysuckle is as old as I am,’ she said.

“And not long after that I missed seeing dear little old-young Mary Alice and her smiles when I wafted my fragrance through her window.

“But one day I saw the other people of the house and the children, too, looking at me. ‘The honeysuckle that she loved,’ they said. ‘Oh we hope it will keep on coming up each year, for it reminds us so of her. But it looks pretty old now.’

“So you see, little Hyacinth, I must come up, even though I am so very tired and old!”

APRIL 8: The Flower Parade

“We’ll tell you a story,” said the white lilac bush while the purple and Persian lilac bushes listened as did the garden flowers.

“We’d like to hear a story,” the fairies said.

“You see,” said the white lilac bush, “we are all a part of the great Flower Parade. When the snow leaves the ground the crocus flowers appear and take the lead in the parade. They are like the drum-major who leads the procession, but instead of tossing a fancy stick into the air, they lift up their little heads and tell the world that spring has come.

“Next follow the hyacinths, the tulips, daffodils, narcissus flowers, garden violets, pansies, and little daisies. They all are about in the same part of the parade. And when they come we appear too, as well as the flowering almond shrubs and many others.

“But the pansies, little daisies and garden violets blossom all through the season, so they’re like the small boys who run along by the side of the parade—almost anywhere, at any time.

“And after we go the flowers will still keep on parading. The lilies-of-the-valley are marching now, and soon the dear forget-me-nots with their blue, blue eyes will come.

“The rockets, peonies, honeysuckles and roses all will follow along, making a very handsome part of the parade. And later on the phlox, larkspur so blue, and foxglove will follow.

“These are the flowers that come up year after year and they are the ones which belong to the great Flower Parade. It takes a whole spring and summer and early autumn to see the whole parade. But it’s worth seeing, and though we can’t be here all the time, we’re glad for our part of the parade—we are.”

And the fairies knew that the lilac bush was right and a parade of gorgeous garden flowers would continue all summer.

APRIL 9: The Big Parade

“I want to tell you of a parade which took place some time ago,” said daddy.

“After many bands had gone by, many soldiers, and many sailors, a wagon drawn by four big horses came along, and upon the wagon was an enormous cage. In this cage were homing pigeons.

“On the side of the wagon was written a little story about the pigeons, telling how they had taken messages through all sorts of dangers, how brave they had been, how clever, and how they had thought of their duty and not of themselves.

“And when that wagon passed along carrying the homing pigeons every one clapped, for here were little dumb creatures who had shown a wonderful understanding and had done all they could for the country, and the little pigeons were so modest that they actually wondered what all this excitement was about!”

APRIL 10: The Alphabet Letters

“My story is a very sad and sorrowful one. If I tell it to you it will make you cry,” said the letter Z.

“Alphabet letters don’t cry,” said the letter S. “Tears are shed over us, but we don’t cry ourselves. So tell us your sad and sorrowful story, Mr. Z.”

“Tell us the sad and sorrowful story,” repeated the other alphabet letters.

“It shows I have a good disposition,” said the letter Z. “I’m neither angry nor cross.”

“There, there,” said the letter S. “You used me twice in that last word, which was all very well, but you need not have brought in that word angry, for angry and cross mean the same.”

“All right,” said the letter Z. “I do so little work these days that I really feel as if I didn’t know anything.”

“Poor letter Z,” the other letters all said.

“Tell us your story,” said the letter S.

“I will,” agreed the letter Z.

“Pray do,” the others urged.

“It’s the letter S which has caused the trouble,” said the letter Z.

The letter S wiggled and wriggled and twisted and turned and said:

“I beg you pardon, letter Z. I am sure I have meant no harm.”

“None at all,” said the letter Z. “I know you have meant no harm. And you needn’t beg my pardon, for it isn’t your fault. You can’t rule teachers and parents and writers and students. You do what you can for them, that is all.

“But think about it, letters, and you will understand. Just think of the number of words which used to need my letter in them and now they have put the letter S in instead.”

“Yes,” said the letter M, “that is true, and we can think about these things now, for it is recess time.”

“Think of all the words which end with the letters ‘ise.’ They used to end with the letters ‘ize.’”

“True,” said the alphabet letters; “perfectly true.”

“You’re sure you are not angry with me?” asked the letter S, wriggling nervously.

“Quite true,” said the letter Z. “As I said before, it is not your fault. But isn’t my tale a sad and sorrowful one?”

“It is,” said the other letters.

But just then up spoke the letter S and the letter I and the letter E.

“Letter Z,” they said, “come and join us or we won’t be a word. We need you, letter Z; we must have you.”

So the letter Z joined these three letters and they all jumped around as the word SIZE appeared, as you have doubtless already guessed.

“You’re all very good to me,” said the letter Z as it played around with the letters S and I and E. Each one kept its own place in the word, but sometimes they made themselves look very big and sometimes they made themselves look very small and sometimes they made themselves look just about medium size. For, as they made up the word size, and as size can be small—small size, you know—or big, they did everything they could and played all the games they could.

Then other letters formed other words and they played around, just as they should have played to show folks what they meant. You can imagine what a wonderful time the letters F and U and N had.

“Hurry, hurry,” said the letter S. “All the big S letters and all the little S letters. Hurry now to the class rooms.”

“I don’t have to hurry much,” said the letter Z, “but I will either live to a very old age from being lazy and doing nothing to tire myself, or else I’ll be forgotten entirely.”

“Oh, no, you won’t be forgotten,” said the other alphabet letters.

“We’ll see to that,” said the letters A and B and C. “We have a great deal to do with schools and lessons, you know, and we will keep you with us, never fear.”

“Thank you, thank you,” said the letter Z, as it twisted itself slowly back into the school rooms.

And the letter S said: “Thank you for not being angry with me. You’re a good sport, letter Z.”

APRIL 11: The Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher

“The Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher,” said daddy, “is known by such a name because he has a very long tail which is very much the shape of a pair of scissors. In fact, his tail is like two tails which open and shut as one would open and close a pair of scissors.

“He opens and closes his scissor-like tail when he does his marketing just as ladies would open and close their purses after they had bought something.

“His home is a very large nest, and it is made of anything at all—grass and bits of cloth and strings and bits of twigs. In fact, he is very good natured.

“Mrs. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher has a happy time with such a pleasant mate and she is pleasant herself which makes them both happy.

“The event of her life is hatching time. When she is sitting on four whitish-brown eggs which will soon be little scissor-tailed flycatchers she is as happy as a bird can be, and that is pretty happy, as you can imagine.

“I am going to tell you now about Mr. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher and his talk to an insect.

“‘Little insect,’ said Mr. Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher, ‘I am very well named. I am called a flycatcher and I catch flies. But I don’t only catch flies. I catch other insects as well.’

“But the insect heard no more for he had scampered away from the Flycatcher.”

APRIL 12: The Woodpecker Band

“Come on, come on, join the band! Rehearsals to begin this morning! Get in practise! Lose no time! We’re ready, and we hope you’ll be ready too. First practise to start in half an hour.”

Now the woodpeckers were the ones who had been talking. They were already starting to practise by drumming on the bark of the trees. The trees are the drums and the woodpeckers all beat the drums. Of course a great deal of the time they work hard at the trees, burrowing for insects, and they help to destroy many bad ones.

But some time before Mr. Hairy Woodpecker had suggested they should start a band. The drums were played by Mr. Hairy Woodpecker, Mr. Red-Headed Woodpecker, Mr. Downy Woodpecker, Mr. Sapsucker, Mr. Crested Woodpecker and Mr. Flicker Woodpecker.

Those who sang and helped along the chorus and played little mouth-organs and various instruments made out of twigs were the warblers, the vireos, goldfinches, mocking-birds, bobolinks, chickadees, pewees, phoebes, orioles, thrushes, song-sparrows and whippoorwills. And of course, almost the most important of all were the robins!

Mr. Robin Redbreast was the leader of the band. He waved a little stick in front of the band-stand, which was up in a tree.

How they all did play and sing. Now in a great many bands, in fact in most bands, they do not have singing, but in the woodpecker’s band it is entirely different.

What would a band be like in birdland without singing? They would miss all the beautiful songsters who would add so much music, and that would be such a pity.

So the woodpeckers were wise indeed when they asked the song birds to join in the band.

They practised all that day for the coming concert. And before they went to bed that night and before they even thought of putting their heads under their wings, they sent around notices to all the birds to be on hand, and this is how the notices read: “First concert of the season to be given by the Woodpeckers’ Band to-morrow at sunrise. Mr. Robin Redbreast will conduct.”

The concert was a huge success and the people said, “It’s really and truly the springtime when we have a concert such as we were given this morning!”

APRIL 13: The Tease

“Grace,” said daddy, “had a brother named Edward, and Edward was a tease; not a nice, good-natured, funny sort of a tease, but he was the kind who hurt people’s feelings. He would see some one who had a suit on which was not new, or which had been patched, and he would try to make the one who was wearing it feel very uncomfortable.

“Edward would also see boys wearing their older brothers’ suits, and he would say with a mean look: ‘Where did you get that suit?’

“And—he also liked to tease Grace by making fun of her doll Gracie and by tossing her up in the air, and playing with her as though she were a ball, and he could bat her in a game of his own mean making.

“Oh, how she would feel when Gracie was lifted up into Edward’s hands, and then he would toss her up and say:

“‘What’s the difference? She’s only made of rags. Why do you care? Gracie doesn’t.’ One day he left the doll high up in a tree out in the yard, and Grace was afraid that more snow would come in the night and that it would spoil her beloved Gracie, for there had been a late snow-storm that day.

“But a boy, a friend of Edward’s, who didn’t think Edward was really much of a boy for teasing Grace in that horrid way, had found Grace crying. He found out what the trouble was, and he got Gracie from the high limb of the tree.

“Edward didn’t know that his friend had brought down the doll, and at night when he slept, lo and behold, Gracie seemed to come and stand at the end of his bed.

“But no longer was Gracie a little rag doll. She had grown, oh, she had grown. And she was wearing instead of a painted wig, great icicles which were so heavy and cold looking.

“Her body seemed very stiff and straight. It seemed very strong, and as if she were made of steel or of iron instead of rags.

“‘Edward,’ she said, and her voice seemed harsh and terrible, ‘Edward,’ she continued, ‘you left me out in the snow to-night, so as to tease your little sister. But now I will show you what it is like to be abused. Even if you don’t actually hurt me, you hurt your sister who loves me. Wait and I will show you.’

“‘Oh, don’t,’ shrieked Edward. He was very cowardly when he was going to be teased, you see. ‘I’ll be good. I promise,’ and his voice sounded thoroughly frightened.

“‘I’ll have to show you first,’ said the doll. She took Edward in her arms, which had grown so big and so hard, and she tossed him up in the air and around and about, so that he was frightened any moment he might land on the ground.

“And Edward thought of the doll outside—he thought she still was there, and oh, he was so sorry, but he never again made Grace miserable by teasing Gracie.”

APRIL 14: The Onion’s Speech

“The vegetables were talking in the cellar,” said daddy, “and I must confess that they were boasting a great deal. But still one can forgive a vegetable for boasting very often, for if we lived so near the ground—or in the ground as they do—we’d probably like to pretend we were higher up! The onion was now talking. ‘I came from the Land of the Pyramids originally. My ancient home was in Egypt, far, far across the water, in a wonderful, ancient part of the world that is full of history and interest and beauty.’

“‘Hear! Hear!’ said all the other vegetables.

“‘I myself have never seen that far land,’ continued the onion, ‘but my family came from there at first, way, way back where the family tree first starts from.’

“‘How can you have a family tree when you’re an onion and not even a branch?’ asked a very plain little potato.

“‘People,’ said the onion haughtily, ‘have family trees, and they aren’t branches, nor are they leaves. Family trees mean ancestors, noble grandfathers and aristocratic grandmothers, high-up great aunts, and snobbish great uncles. A family tree is something every one and everything can’t have. Now you, poor potato, haven’t a family tree at all.’

“But the potato didn’t seem to mind in the least. However, the onion went on talking. ‘Now my young friend, the radishes came first from China—an interesting history has the Radish family. The Horse-Chestnut family came from Asia, and the Mulberry trees from Persia. The Cucumbers came from the East Indies, and the Spinach family came first from Arabia.’

“‘How very fine,’ said the potato in a very sarcastic tone of voice.

“‘You’re right,’ said the onion, not noticing the sarcastic voice; ‘it’s very fine to have a family tree. It’s something, as I said before, that every one can’t have. You never came from afar, Mr. Potato. And neither did the oats, corn, pumpkins and other plain creatures who don’t know what aristocracy and grandeur mean.’

“‘What does it mean?’ asked the potato.

“‘You weren’t paying attention,’ said the onion. ‘It means a family tree and noble grandparents.’

“‘Pooh!’ exclaimed the potato. ‘If a vegetable isn’t good itself it makes no difference where it came from nor what its grandparents were. It’s what a vegetable is itself. Suppose I were a bad potato, which I’m not, I’m thankful to say, would it make any difference because my great-great-grandfather had come from some interesting land across the sea? Not in the least. I’m a good useful vegetable and can be cooked in many ways. That’s what counts in this world. To amount to something yourself. Be a real vegetable! Do what you can to nourish the world! Don’t boast!’

“The onion felt very badly. It had been so proud of its fine history, and often it was unhappy because it was so unkindly talked about.

“‘I try to be good,’ said the onion. ‘I season things and I make many good dishes. I do the best I can.’

“‘Of course you do, little onion,’ said the potato. ‘But next time you make a speech, tell us all to do our best and not boast about what others have done or have been.’

“And the onion always made speeches after that which were not about family trees, and when it was finally cooked every one said: ‘What a nice onion must have been put in this soup.’”

APRIL 15: A Bookworm

“I tried cork biting once,” said one bookworm to another bookworm.

“And yet,” said the other bookworm, “you are known as ‘The Bookworm’ by some people who don’t know much.”

“That is not a great complaint,” said the first bookworm, “to be called ‘The Bookworm’ by people who don’t know much. I love books, but I don’t care for reading. That might sound strange to some folks, but the bookworm families know that being a bookworm doesn’t mean reading words. Once I went through each page of each book along on the shelf in just the very same spot, so that they could have put a ribbon or a string or anything they might have had near at hand through all those many holes and hung the books up instead of standing them on the shelves. I thought they might care to change the books a little, so I did my best to help. That certainly makes me deserve my name!”

APRIL 16: The Wild Black Cherry

“The wild black cherry tree is very handsome,” said daddy.

“Its foliage is something like that of the willow, drooping and looking very dainty and lovely. Its bark is rich and soft, but best of all, is the fruit which is used for making all sorts of delicious goodies, especially wild cherry juice!

“Then medicines and tonics have been made from the fruit and bark and roots of the wild black cherry.

“Cherry-wood is considered by many people to be almost as handsome as rosewood and mahogany, and the old wild black cherry tree is the tree which is used to make beautiful cherry-wood furniture.

“Its cousin, the wild cherry, is greatly enjoyed by birds who simply love to eat the little fruits.

“Another cousin, the choke-cherry, is a tree filled with very bitter fruit but the birds like the choke-cherry trees almost as well as any other and flock about any they may find. The fashionable and rich cousin is the sweet cherry which is cultivated in this country. And these are the cherries which we all like to eat best.”

APRIL 17: Spring Blossoms

“How do you feel?” asked the first apple blossom of a pear blossom on one of the other trees in the orchard.

“Splendidly,” said the pear blossom. “How about yourself?”

“Never better,” said the apple blossom. Now when the other pear blossoms and apple blossoms heard these two talking they all wanted to see what was going on.

And before long they were all out talking and chatting while some of them were having games with the Breeze Brothers who blew them to the ground and made it look as if the snow had come again.

“Did your tree have a secret to whisper to you?” asked the first apple blossom.

“Yes,” answered the first pear blossom. “I was just about to ask you the same question.”

“It’s this way with us,” said the first apple blossom. “You see the farmhouse is very shabby. It has been needing a coat of paint for so many years. And the people who live inside are so poor they can’t afford anything they don’t actually need.

“They feel badly that they cannot afford to have their house painted for it would look so much brighter and prettier.

“Well, it has been this same way for so many, many years, as I said before. And they have had bad luck with the potatoes and the corn every year. Something always happens. Bugs eat up the potatoes and a storm is likely to come and hurt the corn just when it would be growing quite perfect.

“All these things my tree whispered and said, ‘Little blossoms, all of you must be beautiful so for one season in the year the people in the farmhouse will think they have the loveliest of homes. Make their dingy home look like a fairyland.’” And once again the blossoms gave joy to the people in the dingy farmhouse, who every year had the most beautiful place owing to the blossoms.

APRIL 18: The Button Bag

“In a work bag,” said daddy, “there lived a button bag. The button bag was made of blue and white cambric, I believe you call it, and it had a blue silk ribbon around it at the top—I suppose a sort of neck-tie, one might say.

“At any rate, in this bag were loads and loads of buttons. The button bag was a very large button bag, and the work bag was a very large work bag.

“Whenever any one wanted a button, or whenever any one said they had lost a button or that a button was off, the work bag was taken out and then a button was found—always a button for everything that needed a button.

“And when any member of the household wanted to do a little mending, for everything that lacked a button there was always found to be one.

“What did the buttons and the button bag have to say to all this? Were they pleased they were so useful? We shall hear.

“‘When is the party going to be?’ asked the big, white button, with the shining face.

“‘Pretty soon,’ said the little green button, ‘pretty soon.’

“‘I’ve been to lots of parties,’ said a button with a funny little face, a face of some old, old knight or lord or something very noble!

“He had two sisters and a brother and the four of them were all just alike. They had never been used, as nothing had ever come up that needed their time and their presence. They had been in the button bag for years. But, of course, they were kept, for there might be a time, no one knows when or how soon, when the buttons with the faces might be just the ones wanted.

“‘It’s so nice,’ said the one who had just spoken, ‘that we are always sure of a home. It’s so nice. Some would throw us away and would say they had no use for a lot of old buttons taking up room when they were about sure we’d never be used.

“‘But we don’t have to worry, for the mistress of the house who owns the work bag and the button bag and all the buttons, always says that we don’t eat or drink, meaning we don’t cost her any money, and we might be useful some time.

“‘She’s a sensible lady, yes she is. And we’re sure of a home, quite sure of one.

“‘But as I said I have been to a great many parties. Although I have lived in the button bag such a long time, once I lived on a handsome dress, oh, such a handsome dress, and then I went to great balls and parties and all.’

“‘Ah,’ said a big black button, ‘I’ve had a nice life, too. I’ve lived on fur coats. I’ve been on several, and I’ve been out on glorious bracing winter days when the snow came in my face and body all at once!

“‘I’ve been for sleigh-rides where bells jingled and where my button heart leaped for joy!’

“‘And I,’ said a little brown button, ‘have on the other hand been about in the summer. I belonged to a lovely bathing suit which belonged to a little girl, and I used to see the sand made into castles and bridges and rivers, and all sorts of marvelous things, and the lovely ocean would go over me—oh, it was so cool and refreshing!

“‘And all about me were happy, smiling people. Every one was shrieking with delight. If I had known how to shriek I would have called at the top of my voice, if I had a voice:

“‘“Oh, the button is happy, too, the button is so happy!”’

“‘Well,’ said the tan button, ‘we must get ready for the party, as we must frolic all night and then be back in our places by morning, so it won’t confuse or mix any one up who may sew in the morning.’

“‘Right,’ said all the buttons.

“So they all borrowed old pieces of ribbon from the bag and little pieces of thread, and they dressed themselves in fine array, and then they danced and sang in their little button voices, which, of course, aren’t real voices, but only make-believe ones. This was their song:

“‘The buttons are we, happy, gleeful and glad; We are of all kinds and we never are sad. We love those who use us and even those who do not; Ah, yes, indeed, we’re a merry, merry lot!’”

APRIL 19: The Patient Chimpanzee

“Charlie was the name of a chimpanzee in the Zoo,” said daddy, “and he was ill. The keeper went to Charlie with a medicine bottle, carrying a glass and a spoon, too.

“‘I am sorry, Charlie,’ said the keeper, and from the look Charlie gave him he knew he understood.

“‘Good chimpanzee,’ said the keeper. ‘You fine, patient animal. You teach us all a lesson—all of us—for none of us take medicine well, neither children nor even grown-ups.’

“The chimpanzee swallowed the medicine. He tried very hard not to make a face as he did so, but he took it all—every drop—and then he tried to lie quite still. For it was such horrid tasting medicine.

“The keeper still stood by Charlie with the empty glass and bottle in his hand. Then he put them down and took Charlie’s head and stroked it again and again.

“Charlie nudged up against the keeper.

“‘You will make me well, keeper,’ he seemed to say. ‘It is not your fault you had to give me the horrid medicine. Dear keeper, you know that by to-morrow I will be feeling like my old self again.’ For monkeys and chimpanzees are the most patient creatures when they are sick.”

APRIL 20: The Toad

“A toad,” said daddy, “was once sent all the way in a little box from one side of this continent to the other to be the pet of a little sick boy named Paul.

“He was a horned toad, and he was the kind of a toad that needs little else beside air to live on.

“Now, the toad seemed to know he must behave on the journey and he was carried in a little box with air holes punched through it. Of course he needed the air more than anything, and wasn’t he happy when at last he arrived, and could have all the air he wanted. And when Paul saw him he knew from the toad’s honest, ugly face he would be loyal and good, and a real pet.”

APRIL 21: The Pine Needles

“I must thread my needle before I begin my work,” said a little girl as she sat under a big pine tree, with another little girl.

“What’s that I hear?” asked one of the pine needles. “She speaks about threading her needle? Am I her needle, or are you her needle, or who in the world is her needle? And what is thread?”

The poor needles were very nervous. And the other little girl spoke next: “I like to knit better than I do to sew because then I can use four needles.”

“Oh, dear, oh dear,” said the pine needles. “There’s a child who needs four needles. Do you suppose she threads us too?”

They watched for a long time, trying to move away from the children so they would not be used. They whispered to the pine tree saying:

“Blow about and move us away, Sway, swing, swing and sway. For we’ve just this minute heard it said, That into needles they will put thread.”

And the pine tree whispered to the breeze:

“Blow, blow, make me sway, So I can move the needles away. Please, Mr. Wind, would you mind Doing this act so very kind?”

So the wind blew the pine tree and the pine tree’s branches swayed and blew about the little pine needles. But no sooner had all this happened than they saw that the children had other things called needles. They hadn’t wanted pine needles at all!

APRIL 22: The Cat’s Mistake

As I don’t think you will be able to guess right away and as I want to tell you what really happened, I will tell you the place Blackie the cat chose for his nap one Sunday.

It was in the church organ! Well, he had a fine sleep. And he was still asleep when the organist came in and began to play.

Then poor Blackie woke up with a start! At first he didn’t know whether he was having a nightmare or a bad dream, or what was happening.

He moved to one side and the organ gave a curious rumble and a very funny sound and the organist looked as if he didn’t know what the trouble could be, and the people stopped singing and then tried to go on singing without any music.

The organist tried to play again and this awfully queer rumble and burr and buzz was heard once more. So the people went on finishing their singing without any organ.

Of course Blackie tried to move when he felt the pedals moving and he jumped over the inside stops and pedals and made these very strange sounds as he did so.

The organist looked inside the organ and saw nothing. Then, suddenly, he saw two big green eyes staring at him.

“It’s a cat in there,” he said to himself.

Poor Blackie was very much frightened. This was altogether too much. He liked adventures and he liked to explore but this was going too far.

“Yes, that is a cat,” said the organist to himself, and Blackie’s green eyes shone back at him when he said this.

“Come, pussy; come, nice pussy,” said the organist in a whisper. Poor Blackie was so frightened he did not know what to do. Still the organist kept on coaxing and begging Blackie to come out. And after a while Blackie felt less frightened and the soft whisper of the organist sounded very kind and Blackie came out from inside of the church organ.

Oh, how happy he was when he was out and the organist got a little boy to lift him quietly and take him out of the church.

And what joy it was for Blackie to be back home again, to rest and have a nice sleep after his adventure, which had turned out to be such a mistake!

APRIL 23: The Butterfly Who Loved the Sun

“I saw a little boy to-day,” said daddy, “named Robert who has a collection of cocoons. He keeps them on little twigs in a great big box punched full of holes.

“Then he waits to see the butterflies come out. After they have come out he never kills them or tries to keep them, for he thinks that is dreadfully cruel. He knows well that they love to see the sun and be out in the fresh air among the flowers, and he wouldn’t deprive them of that pleasure for anything.

[Illustration: “THE BUTTERFLY THOUGHT, ‘WELL, THIS MAY BE MY FIRST PARTY, BUT IT CERTAINLY WON’T BE MY LAST.’”—_Page 95_]

“But one day about a week ago out from a cocoon came the most beautiful pale blue butterfly Robert had ever seen.

“He at once took it out of the box, and off it flew into the warm sun’s rays and lighted upon a small bush which was covered with plum-blossoms and the butterfly acted as if it thought, ‘Well, this may be my first party, but it certainly won’t be my last.’”

APRIL 24: The Horse-Chestnut

“I’d like to know,” said Fairy Ybab, of a magnificent tree which was one mass of huge blossoms, “why you are called the Horse-Chestnut tree? You aren’t eaten by horses, are you? You don’t look like a horse.”

The Horse-Chestnut gave a funny low, whispering laugh.

“I will explain,” said the Horse-Chestnut. “You see, there are some creatures who have engagements all the time. They have to meet a friend at such and such a time or they have to be back for dinner at such a time or they must be in bed at such another time.

“Now, the trees are different. We haven’t any engagements like that. We trees don’t have to go anywhere at all. In fact, we can’t go anywhere. We’re perfectly satisfied, too.

“You’ve never heard of a tree pulling itself up by the roots and crying out in a hoarse, leafy way:

“‘Dear me, I do want to go to a birthday party.’

“In the first place of all I am called a Horse-Chestnut tree because I have marks between my leaves and twigs which look like horseshoes with nails in them.

“That is the answer to the first question. And the answer to the second question is this: No, I am not eaten by horses. My nuts are much too bitter. Children like to play with them, for they’re big and handsome, but they’re not good to eat.

“There are your two questions answered.”

APRIL 25: The Loving Mates

“A little bird had lost her mate,” said daddy, “and was very sad. A sudden storm had come up when she was out, but when the storm blew over she found her way back to the dear mate who was looking for her.

“‘T-r-i-l-l, t-r-i-l-l,’ her little mate cried, and trembled with joy.

“‘My little mate, my loving little mate,’ she said in her bird language as she gave him a kiss with her little beak.

“And then such a song! Such a song as has seldom been heard before was sung by that happy bird to his little loving mate.”

APRIL 26: The Dandelion

“Two children were walking,” said daddy. “One of them stopped to pick some dandelions.

“‘I love these yellow flowers,’ said the little girl. ‘No one scolds when you pick them. I’ve never owned a garden. But I always get these flowers every spring. And, oh, how I love them! Dear, soft, yellow posies,’ she said.

“This was many years ago but from that day the dandelion’s family have always come up in the spring.”

APRIL 27: Butterfly’s Growth

“A butterfly lays an egg on a leaf,” said daddy. “In a little while the egg becomes a caterpillar. And what do you suppose the caterpillar has for its very first meal?”

Both the children shook their heads.

“It eats some of the shell from which it came. It’s a little like moving out of a house and before leaving it entirely, eating it up!

“Then the caterpillar becomes a chrysalis and soon a butterfly. It’s a happy day for the caterpillar when it becomes a beautiful butterfly. No longer will people call it a horrid caterpillar. They will say, ‘Look at the beautiful butterfly!’

“And as the butterfly sips from the little flowers and enters right into the hearts of many of them, it whispers:

“‘I’ve been a long time coming to you, flower, but the hard crawling journey had a wonderful ending.’

“And though the flower does not altogether understand, it partly does, for it whispers: ‘Eat all of my honey and sip my sweetness, for you are my beautiful butterfly visitor!’”

APRIL 28: The Tack and the Nail

“I heard something far from pleasant about you, little Tack,” said the big Nail.

There were many other tacks in the box, but there were also many nails. They were all together in one big white box, and whichever size was wanted could be picked from the lot.

But the Nail which was the biggest of all, or about the biggest, was talking to the Tack which was about the smallest of all the tacks in this big box.

“Well, I suppose you want me to ask you what it is,” said the Tack, moving a little in the box.

“You needn’t ask me if you don’t want to,” said the Nail haughtily.

“But of course I want to; that is only natural,” said the Tack.

“I thought you would want to,” said the Nail, in a hard, metallic voice. Now a metallic voice is a voice which sounds as hard and cold as any metal could be. Of course that was the natural sort of voice for a nail to have—still it was not a very cheerful voice to hear.

“The Master said that he had kept forgetting things all day long. And then he said that he had a head like a tack.”

“Well, what of it?” asked the Tack. “Is that all?”

“That’s all, little Tack,” said the Nail. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t think that was so dreadful,” said the Tack.

“Perhaps you don’t understand,” said the Nail.

“Perhaps not,” the Tack agreed.

“I’d better make sure you understand and so I will tell you. The Master meant that his head was so small and stupid that he couldn’t remember anything, and when he said that his family told him he mustn’t talk so about himself. There, little Tack, you see you have a little stupid head. No head at all, and because it’s such a poor head they’ve made that sad saying about it. There was never such a thing said of a Nail.”

“Maybe not,” said the Tack angrily, “but I can hang just as many pictures as you can. Maybe you are used for big pictures but I am used for small ones—nice little favorites, photographs and so forth. I’m just as useful in my way. Just as useful,” the Tack repeated.

“But what is more,” the Tack continued, “I have very little use for you in saying such a thing. You are supposed to be a friend of mine. A nail is a sort of relation of a tack. I don’t blame the people for saying such things. In their opinion my head is very small, and quite rightly too, and I have not the things they call brains—neither have you. So I don’t blame them in the least.

“But I blame you, Nail, for coming and telling me something to make me unhappy. It’s not doing me any good. I can’t change my head. You’re just like a creature who wants to be praised because you didn’t say the mean thing yourself; but you did worse than that—you repeated it. Bah!” The Tack moved away disgusted, and the Nail moved far to one side of the box, feeling much ashamed.

APRIL 29: Moon’s Misunderstanding

“Are you sad, Mr. Moon?” asked the Fairy Queen. “I feel that something is the matter with you. You don’t seem to be yourself to-night. Won’t you tell us the trouble?”

“I heard you say that once in a blue moon, you liked to have a banquet, and I thought perhaps you knew of another moon, and wanted him to shine for you. I’m not blue—that is I’m not really blue, though now I do feel blue, blue and very sad.”

“Oh, Mr. Moon,” said the Fairy Queen, “I am so glad you told me what the trouble was, for if you hadn’t told me we might have had a very sad misunderstanding.

“Of course we didn’t want another moon, and there is no other moon but you, dear Mr. Moon.

“When people say, ‘Once in a blue moon,’ they mean ‘Once in a great while.’ They don’t mean that they want a blue moon, and can only give such a party when there is a blue moon, or whatever they are planning to give or do.

“Now we are going to have a banquet, and I meant that I thought it was nice to have a banquet once in a great while. That was a silly saying I used, that’s all.”

“I’m so relieved,” said Mr. Moon, smiling once more. “I never heard of another moon, but of course how was I to be sure? Such wonderful things happen all the time. People fly up in the air in airships, and behave just like birds. So I wasn’t sure whether there was another moon or not, and thought perhaps this fellow was blue, being blue in color and feeling blue in spirits are different—eh?”

“Quite different,” said the Fairy Queen. “You don’t feel blue now, do you?” And as the moon grinned happily the Fairy Queen knew that everything was all right, and a banquet took place in Fairyland that night.

APRIL 30: Marion’s Fern Garden

Marion had a little shady flower bed. Every spring at just about this time she would go into the woods with a trowel and basket and pick out the loveliest ferns. These she would carry home in her basket. Then in the shady afternoon she would go to her fernery with a watering pot. First she would dig a little hole, then she would put some water in it to see that the roots of the fern got plenty of moisture, for that is what ferns love. Then she would put the root of the fern in the hole and put soft earth firmly around it. After she had planted her ferns she watered them some more, for she was very careful that her ferns should be planted just right, and that is why she had such good luck with them.

Every spring she would add to her fernery, and the ferns that she had planted the year before came up more beautifully than ever.

She would get interesting looking rocks and stones and put them between ferns here and there in the little fernery. It was very delightful to see the plants come up in the spring and then go to the woods and get some more beautiful ones. She was very particular, you may be sure, to get nice young ones, for they are the best to transplant.

MAY 1: The Tree Swallows

“The Mr. Tree Swallows are bluish green above and white underneath. The Mrs. Tree Swallows are gray and white beneath,” said daddy.

“Sometimes they build their nests out of grass with feathers for the lining; in fact, that is the way they usually do, but they sometimes like to find bird homes already made for them.

“They sing or make a little chirping sound as their other swallow cousins do. They usually build their nests in hollow trees and like to sit on old branches, so they have been called the Tree Swallows, for their cousins, the Barn Swallows, build their homes around barns.

“These swallows like to fly high in the air, and they also love to sit on telegraph wires. They say that they wish to be modern and up-to-date, and that as they can’t answer the telephones or call their friends up, they can sit on the telephone wires and feel they are part of a nice world!”

MAY 2: The Pig Who Took a Walk

“There was once a little fairy, who was named Fairy Sunrise, because every morning she got up just at the same time as Mr. Sun did.

“She had a great love for nice little pigs, as she thought they were very cunning, and not at all the horrid little creatures some people think they are.

“But one little pig worried her a great deal. He put on airs and was very proud of himself. The little pig’s name was ‘Gink,’ and he was the pet pig of a little girl who lived on a farm.

“Gink had overheard some city people who had visited the farm talk about their figures. For a long time he couldn’t imagine what they meant. Then, after listening for some time, he heard one of them say that it was quite all right to eat everything any one wanted to, but every one must exercise, walk and play games so as not to grow fat—for it was so ugly to be fat!

“Gink had never thought it was ugly to be fat, but then that was because he had never really thought about it at all. And yet when he did think about it, he decided that he would much rather keep just ‘plump’ as he now was than grow as fat as his mother was. For he said that his mother was a little bit old fashioned, and he wanted to be a very modern pig.

“The next day he went for a walk. He went through the little village, just managing to escape from under horses’ feet, and the little boys’ bicycles. He went as far as the lake, where he saw some boys starting off on a camping trip.

“‘Don’t you want to come with us?’ asked one of the boys.

“The little pig was just about to start off, thinking in his vain way that the trip would do him good, when he heard a second boy say:

“‘Won’t he make wonderful bacon?’

“Then you should have seen little Gink run home to his mistress. And after that awful fright and narrow escape, Gink stayed on the farm outside the village, and decided fashions were very silly, and apt to be dangerous. He also lost his love of walking!

“And little Fairy Sunrise who had been around just in time to whisper to the little boy (though of course he didn’t see her) the word ‘bacon’ which had frightened Gink so much, was delighted that all her schemes had worked out so well, and that she had cured the vain Gink.”

MAY 3: The Fairy and the Kangaroo

“I must tell you a story to-night,” commenced daddy, “of the sick kangaroo in the Zoo.

“To tell the truth the kangaroo wasn’t sick at all. He simply thought he was but he succeeded in making the keeper think so too. This pleased the kangaroo as all he really wanted was to have a fuss made over him.

“The strange thing about his illness was that the keeper couldn’t imagine what was the matter with the kangaroo. He had a perfectly good appetite for he couldn’t give up eating just to pretend he was sick, for really and truly he knew he was just ‘pretending.’

“Now, this puzzled the keeper, but he thought there must be some kangaroo sickness where the animal could still eat, and yet be far from well.

“The keeper became so worried over the kangaroo’s strange sickness that at night he would get up to see if the kangaroo was asleep. Every time he went to look, the kangaroo was sound, sound asleep, breathing very quietly. The keeper thought to himself that this must be a good sign, for if he happened to be suffering from indigestion he would certainly be moaning and having bad dreams. Finally the keeper decided the kangaroo must have heart failure.

“The next day the keeper sent for the doctor and the doctor examined the kangaroo’s heart. He said that it was one of the strongest hearts that he had ever examined. And the keeper was still more puzzled.

“The kangaroo used to sit for hours and hours just playing with his tail. Sometimes he would think it was time to show how badly he felt by crying. So he would first look as if he just were able to keep back the tears, and then he would act as if he could keep it up no longer and would shake with sobs.

“Now this kangaroo had always been spoilt by his mother. When he was very, very young he could always have everything he wanted, so nothing was ever really a big treat.

“He always got sick at parties because he ate too much, and his mother would never stop him, and on holidays he always was allowed to turn things topsy-turvy. But one day when the animals were all to be given a special treat, little Fairy Silver Wings, who had heard of the kangaroo’s sickness, whispered to the other animals to leave him behind to twist his tail and moan while they had their game of ball.

“Then the kangaroo set up a howling such as never had been heard in animal land, for he didn’t want to miss a party—just as Fairy Silver Wings had said; so when they all thought he had learned a good lesson they went back for him. How ashamed he was when the animals at first snubbed him, but he never made a fuss again, for he had had a great fright that he was going to miss a party through his foolishness.”

MAY 4: The Maple Tree Talks

“I’ve heard people talking about their family trees,” said the first maple tree. “And I simply don’t understand it. They’ve said that so and so came from that branch of the family and I’ve never seen a few aunts who made up a branch or a few uncles who made up a branch or who looked anything like a branch. I never have.”

“I can explain that,” said the second maple tree. “When people speak of their family tree they mean their family and their family’s ancestors or grandmothers and grandfathers. You see a family is like a big tree. There is the root of it all—the first family from which all the different relatives or branches sprung which are related to the family just as branches are all related to and connected with the tree.”

“Oh, now I see, thank you,” said the first maple tree.

MAY 5: The Daisies’ Name

“We know what our name means,” said the Daisies. “We come from the old family of Day’s eye—the eyes of the day—because we’re so bright and wide-awake and strong.”

MAY 6: The Two Rabbits

“There were two rabbits,” said daddy, “which I want to tell you about. Their names were Clover and Pinky. Clover loved to hear her name. She loved to be called by it very often and she liked it best of all when her name was made very real by getting a lot of clover to eat.

“The other rabbit’s name was Pinky. Pinky was so named because of his very bright pink eyes. They were really beautiful pink eyes. Clover had pink eyes, too, but they were not so bright; they were a little bit paler in shade than Pinky’s eyes.

“Pinky thought they were very fairly named, for, of course, Clover should have the better name of the two, because Clover was Mrs. Rabbit and it was polite and nice to give the lady the nicer name.

“Both the rabbits were white without a touch of black. They were very fond of each other, they were very tame and fond of children and they were extremely fond of all the nice green things they were given to eat.

“Now the children who owned these rabbits didn’t know that daddy rabbits were all right when their children were big but that when their children were small they weren’t so nice because they were apt to kill them.

“The daddies didn’t care for their babies when they were only little bits of fluff. They didn’t see that they would grow up into nice rabbits later on.

“So these two rabbits, Pinky and Clover, were not separated, and Clover, somehow, wasn’t as afraid of Pinky as sometimes a mother rabbit is.

“That is, a mother rabbit is never afraid of a daddy rabbit for herself, for she knows he will never hurt her, but she is afraid for her little ones.

“So when she knows that the little ones are soon to come she hides away from the daddy rabbit.

“Clover wasn’t at all nervous. She saw that the children didn’t know that they should be separated. And she somehow thought Pinky would act very nicely about the little ones.

“She made a little hole in the ground and soon there came seven of the sweetest, most cunning little bits of white fluff you ever did see!

“She had quite a hard time naming so many little babies but at last she named them and these were the names she decided upon.

“Her eldest son was named Bun. Her eldest daughter was named Bunny. Her second son was named Pink after his dad, and the second daughter was named Cloverine after herself. The third son was named Spot, because of a little black spot which he had on his nose, and the third daughter was named Rabbity, while the fourth son was named Baby Bun.

“And do you know that Pinky never touched one of those children so as to hurt them? He didn’t kill them, he didn’t bite them.

“But instead he watched Mother Rabbit taking care of them, he saw her giving them their meals. He watched her as she taught them the lessons all rabbits must know.

“And he saw the children pick them up and handle them very gently and kiss them and say how precious they were.

“After they grew up into bigger rabbits some of them were given away and became the pets of other children and Clover and Pinky were together again once more without the young ones.

“‘I miss them,’ said Clover, ‘but I know that children will be good to their rabbit pets, for I have always been treated so kindly and nicely by children.’

“‘So have I,’ said Pinky.

“And the rabbits sniffed and their little noses wiggled and trembled as they told each other what a nice world it was with children and clover both in it!”

MAY 7: Evelyn Decides Something

“The other day Mrs. Heron was talking to Mrs. Bird of Paradise,” said daddy.

“‘Ah,’ Mrs. Heron was saying. ‘It does seem too bad that just when our little ones are born, just then, they shoot us, and leave our little ones to starve.

“‘And all for fashions, too, friend! Think of mothers—wearing mothers on their hats whose little ones have been left behind to die. It’s something I cannot, cannot understand.’

“‘All we can hope for,’ said Mrs. Bird of Paradise, ‘is that lots and lots of children will come to the Zoo and that they will hear from the keeper about us and will go home and tell their mothers.’

“‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Heron, ‘for sometimes I do believe people don’t know or understand or they wouldn’t do such cruel things.’

“‘I am sure a great many must be ignorant, for I don’t believe so many would be cruel, especially just for fashion and style,’ said Mrs. Bird of Paradise.

“‘I hope,’ said Mrs. Heron, ‘that children will remember when they grow up themselves not to wear aigrette feathers which destroy the lives of birds who want to live and care for their little ones.’

“‘They strike us down when we’re dancing and happy and have chosen our little mates,’ Mrs. Bird of Paradise said sadly.

“‘And mothers wear us on their hats,’ said Mrs. Heron. ‘They wear other mothers whose babies have died of starvation because of a cruel, cruel fashion.’

“‘Let’s hope for better times ahead for our families,’ Mrs. Bird of Paradise ended.

“‘Let’s hope so,’ said Mrs. Heron.”

“Oh, daddy,” said Evelyn, “I’ve made up my mind, of course, never, never, never in the world to wear feathers of birds where we’re doing cruel, cruel harm. I know and I could never forget. But I’ve made up my mind to start a club of little girls who’ll all promise never to wear the feathers of birds such as the herons or the birds of paradise or any other feathers where the birds have to be killed. We’ll wear ostrich feathers and plumes which come out naturally.

“And I’m going to get any number of my friends together and we’ll have meetings and at each meeting every member will tell an interesting story of some bird she has seen. Once a month we’ll have refreshments.

“But most of all,” said Evelyn, for she could see Jack smiling over the refreshments, “we’ll never be cruel to birds.”

“That’s right,” said Jack, “the idea of big creatures such as we are being cruel to little creatures like birds, and I’m going to start a boys’ club where we’ll study birds and take their pictures, but we’ll never steal their eggs.”

MAY 8: Bossy White’s Escape

“A little girl named Betty,” said daddy, “once had a pet cow. Now, that may seem a very strange pet to have; but, after all, the cow was a very nice pet, for every morning and every evening she gave Betty delicious warm milk. Betty always milked her own bossy herself and would carry into the house twice a day a bucket of milk. But before she did that she always had to drink a little first, so the cow would be pleased and would look at her softly out of her great big eyes. Betty called her cow Bossy White, for the cow had a round white spot above her right eye.

“During the daytime Bossy White stayed in the pasture, and at night-time she came in to a warm, comfortable stall in the barn.

“Betty’s home was very near a swamp, where a great many black racer snakes lived. But as the pasture had a wire fence all around it nobody was afraid the snakes could get inside. The black racer snakes adore chasing cows and try their hardest to catch them. Often they succeed.

“Nobody had noticed it, but a piece of wire had really broken in a part of the fence, and one of the black racer snakes got in.

“‘Now,’ said the snake to himself, ‘I shall have lots of fun chasing this cow.’ So he began to hurry through the grass, and poor Bossy White ran for all she was worth, almost frightened out of her wits.

“A little boy passing by saw the cow running and the grass moving, so he knew that a black racer snake was chasing the cow. He jumped over the fence and called: ‘Bossy White!’ (for he had often heard Betty call her). ‘Come, Bossy White; follow me!’ And he led a wild chase, running first to one side and then to the other until they reached the barn in safety. You see, with the cow following the little boy’s crooked route, the snake could not keep up, but got way behind, for the black racer snakes lose so much time in going from side to side that that is the way to escape them.

“When the little boy and the cow reached the barn there was Betty waiting to milk Bossy White. She couldn’t understand why Bossy White rushed into the barn nor why the little boy was so breathless.

“As soon as the little boy got his breath, though, he told Betty what had happened. You can imagine how happy Betty was to feel that her beloved Bossy White had been saved, and she told the little boy how grateful she was to him. She also said, ‘Now I know how grateful Bossy White feels, and I’m sure she’d like to give you a bucketful of her delicious milk.’ So the little boy, who was very poor and who had an invalid mother, took home his reward of a bucketful of delicious milk.

“A doubly strong wire fence was put around the pasture, so that Bossy White never again was chased by a black racer snake.”

MAY 9: The Spring Snow-storm

“Well,” said the great big stone, “this is fine.” The big stone was big enough so that quite a number of children could get on it at one time. It was away off in the woods, quite far from the nearest village, and it was a fine place to have a picnic.

Some children had decided to give a picnic there and they had asked their daddy to let them have two of the horses and the wagon to take them all to the big stone.

The stone was in some woods which belonged to a family in a neighboring farmhouse. They were not very well off, so they made a little money by charging people who wanted to go through their land a small amount to see the stone and have a picnic there.

And the most important thing about the stone has not yet been told. It was a rocky stone. Yes, that great big stone actually rocked when one touched it, just as a rocking-chair will rock.

All the children who were going to the picnic, went in the wagon and there were five children in all.

They reached the road which was a private one, and they stopped to pay to be allowed to go through to the part where the rocking stone was.

“How much is it?” they asked of the neighboring farmer’s little boy.

“It’s five cents apiece for children,” he said. “And that lets you look at the stone and stay there as long as you want.”

“How much will it cost to let the team go through?” the children asked, for they thought it would cost more with the wagon and horses.

The little boy thought for a moment and then he said: “There won’t be any charge for them, because I don’t suppose they will look at the stone much!”

They all laughed, and the children went through to the rocking stone. And it was then the stone said to itself: “This is fine.” How wonderful it seemed! The stone was so big that they had to climb up a ladder in order to reach the top where they were going to have their picnic, and yet they could stand by it and move it so it actually rocked, not using more than one hand.

“Let’s eat right away,” some one suggested.

And it was such a good suggestion that they started in to eat at once. And such good things as they had! They had cocoa which was piping hot, because it had been heated in a kettle on a bonfire which they had made as soon as they had arrived.

They had sandwiches of all kinds, and cakes and bananas and oranges and all sorts of other goodies. And they had a box with hard candies in it which they all had decided was the best kind.

They had not been eating long when one of the children said: “I do believe I feel a drop of rain—no—it is a flake of snow. Yes, it is snowing!”

“It can’t be,” the other children said, “for the spring has come.”

“But look, there are really snowflakes falling now. And such great big flakes, too!”

And, true enough, even though it was rather far north and though the spring had come, huge snowflakes fell upon the children as they ate their picnic lunch on top of the big rocking stone.

And they laughed and said: “Well, this is a real picnic and everything is very wonderful.”

“Yes,” said another child, “and it is so interesting as everything is a little different from usual. It is not usual to have a picnic on top of a huge stone upon which we have to climb by a ladder if we want to reach the top, and yet which will rock when we touch it, just as though it were a rocking chair. And now the snow is falling though it is spring.”

The jolly old King Snow laughed as he heard this and said: “I like to give them a surprise in the spring when they think I’ve left them for good. And I’m glad I’ve given the children a good surprise, for it makes their picnic party all the more fun, for they like me, they do.” And old King Snow chuckled and went to bed for the summer months feeling very happy indeed.

MAY 10: A Reward for Mr. Walrus

“This Winter,” said daddy, “a Walrus was the Iceman in a Zoo.

“It was this way. The Keeper had noticed that whenever the Walrus’ pond became frozen over on cold, cold nights he was just as happy as happy could be. He would chop up the ice with his sharp tusks—for the Walrus has his ice pick always with him! Then he would leave a clear, open space and down he would dive into his pond and have a lovely icy swim.

“The Walrus loved it nice and cold—and how he did love the cold water.

“Of course, at first, he simply chopped up the ice because he loved the feeling of working with such a cold substance as ice. But his main object was to get under the water and have a good cold bath.

“When the Keeper noticed that that was what the Walrus seemed to want more than anything, he had the regular Iceman of the Zoo pick up the pieces of ice as fast as the Walrus would break them up. These would go into the Zoo ice-house all ready for the hot days of the Summer.

“When the Walrus saw that he was doing some real work, and that as soon as he chopped up the ice it was taken away, he was delighted. For, you see, he was very fond of his good, kind Keeper, and he thought it a fine thing to be a regular business Man—or a business Walrus—and work hard each day. He enjoyed his swims more and more because he felt he was doing some daily work.

“And the Keeper was delighted and said many very kind and flattering things to the Walrus, which pleased him more than I can tell you.

“But alas! All too soon for Mr. Walrus came the warm spring days. The Keeper could not think of anything else for Mr. Walrus to do, and Mr. Walrus felt very sad that all the ice had gone away and that he couldn’t chop any more.

“The Keeper really felt very badly that he had let Mr. Walrus do so much work and had nothing now for him to do. But the Queen of the Fairies came along and whispered to the Keeper a fine scheme as a reward for Mr. Walrus—she whispered this when the Keeper was thinking very hard one day about the Walrus.

“This is what she whispered to him.

“‘Mr. Keeper, go to the ice-house every day and pick out a nice big piece of ice for Mr. Walrus. Then have it carried over to his pond, and when you give it to him tell him it is his reward for working so hard all Winter, and it is to cool his water—not to chop up.’

“Well, the Keeper did as the Fairy Queen had suggested. At first the Walrus did chop up the ice—although it was such a small piece to chop up he did seem a little surprised when it was put in his pond. Then he waited for it to be taken away, but instead, the Keeper came and told him to play with it himself.

“After a few days the Walrus understood it was all for him because it was some of the ice he had chopped in the Winter.

“So every day when the ice would come he would be so joyful. He would take a rest on the piece of ice first—for he thought it a lovely, cool sort of chair—and then he would dive down into the cold water. And the Fairy Queen was so pleased that the Walrus was getting a good reward for his Winter’s work.”

MAY 11: Kay and the Trunk

“Kathleen, or Kay, as she was always called for short, lived by the ocean in a little fishing village,” said daddy. “She used to watch the men fishing all day and hauling their nets in at night. And she would watch her mother cook the fish for their meals, for they practically lived on it. One day a big trunk was washed ashore which without a doubt had fallen off one of the big boats passing by.

“In the trunk were lots and lots of lovely dresses—a pink dress, a yellow satin dress, a green velvet coat, a hat with soft, big plumes on it, and, oh, so many lovely things! Kay was breathless for a moment, she was so excited—all those gorgeous things for a little girl who had seen little else beside fishing-nets and such things.

“‘Is it for me?’ cried Kay.

“‘Yes; all for you,’ said her daddy. ‘Nobody else wants these things here in our fishing village, and you can have them to play with.’

“‘Oh, how marvelous!’ said Kay. ‘I’ll never be lonely now. I can play I’m a queen when I wear that yellow satin dress and the velvet coat, and I’ll pretend that the fishes are my subjects, and I can play I’m a beautiful lady going to a ball when I wear the pink dress.’

“She jumped around and around with joy, crying: ‘Oh, what a fine time I’ll have dressing up! Oh, such fun!’”

MAY 12: The Sun Talks to Harry

“There was a little boy,” said daddy, “whose name was Harry, and he loved sunsets and everything that had bright colors. But as he had spent all his life in the city, he had not seen half the wild flowers and lovely wood flowers you children can always see.

“One day he had been playing very hard as it was his birthday and his mother had given him a party. So he was tired before it was time to go to bed, and he was sitting by the open window looking at the sun just beginning to think about going to bed too.

“But the Fairy Queen was whispering to the sun to tell Harry a story as a special birthday treat, and at the same time Harry was saying ‘Oh, please go to bed, Mr. Sun, for I want to see all your bright colors.’

“But the sun had no intention of being hurried. He wanted to go to bed when he was tired and not before. Besides, in the warm weather he liked to stay up longer, and it was only in the cold winter that he cared about going to bed before the afternoon really was over.

“In a moment or two Harry was sound asleep in his chair by the window. And the sun had listened to the Fairy Queen’s whisper, for soon Harry was having the most wonderful talk with Mr. Sun.

“He came right in the window, and sat on the sill, just as friendly as friendly could be. He told Harry the history of his life, and oh, how very, very old he was. It made Harry feel quite old too, to hear the sun talking, and he said to him, ‘Mr. Sun, don’t you feel very blue when you think how old you are?’

“‘Sometimes to be sure I do. That is only natural. And it is then that you see many blue clouds and pale lavender colors around me as I’m going to bed. But you will agree that isn’t very often. For when I am sensible I say to myself that there is nothing disgraceful about being old. And it is then that I look bright and rosy. For it is very foolish to mind being old when you are as strong and well as I am and have such a wonderful long record.’”

MAY 13: Old Mr. Owl Writes a Book

“Old Mr. Owl wanted to write a book and he asked the fairies how to set about doing it,” commenced daddy.

“‘Well,’ said the fairy queen, ‘it makes a good deal of difference, old Mr. Owl, what you want to write about.’

“‘What nonsense!’ he said. ‘It’s just that I want to know how to start off with my book. Just think what a marvelous book it will be—for as long as folks can remember I’ve been called the Wise Bird—the bird who’s awake at night and whose eyes are so very bright!’

“‘Before I started saying what a fine book it would be, if I were you, I’d write it and give other people the chance to say so,’ said the fairy queen.

“Mr. Owl began to write with his pen, made out of one of Mr. Turkey Gobbler’s best feathers, on a large, flat stone, which he put in the hollow of his tree. Very late in the night, he awakened his fairies who had been sleeping, and told them to listen to his book. Then he called all the owls from the neighborhood with a loud hoot-hoot. But before he began to read, he said:

“‘I’ve not enough light. I will hurt my eyes—my beautiful, wise, big eyes.’

“You see he had made a special arrangement to have his own lights, and when he said that he hadn’t enough, from all over came countless little fireflies. They sparkled and gave the most beautiful light all over the woods, and Mr. Owl put his spectacles on his nose, and said:

“‘Now I see to perfection—which means quite all right.’ And Mr. Owl commenced reading his book.

“It told about the parties, balls and picnics in fairyland, and of the wild adventures and happenings in the woods. The fairies were absolutely delighted that a book had been written with so much about them in it.

“And the fairy queen was more than happy, for the last chapter was all about her.

“‘Well,’ said Mr. Owl, ‘you made me ashamed of myself for boasting about my book before I had written it, and so the only thing I could do was to write a wise chapter all about you.’

“And the fairy queen smiled with pleasure and also with amusement—for Mr. Owl had certainly thought he could write a wise book—though the next time, perhaps, he wouldn’t say so before he had written it.

“The fireflies had been sparkling and flashing lights all this time, and finally they whispered:

“‘Have a dance, all of you; we’ll give you the light and dance too. It is not well to read books all the time—you must dance.’

“So they all ended off with a fine dance, and old Mr. Owl, with his book under his wing, danced with the rest of the owls and fairies. But before the evening was over he presented to the fairy queen a copy of his book, which said on the cover, ‘A BOOK, by Wise Mr. Owl.’”

MAY 14: The Little Turkeys

“When Mrs. Turkey’s little ones were born,” said daddy, “she taught them the things that all good turkey mothers teach their young in the early spring days, especially how they must keep their feet dry for a number of weeks so they will grow up into fine and strong turkeys. And, as Mother Turkey watched her children she said to herself: ‘What a Thanksgiving turkey you will be, my dear,’ as she pointed to one. ‘And what a Christmas turkey you will be. And do not be sad, because you will be used for meals.

“‘It is a very great honor. A very great honor indeed! Turkeys are especially honored in this way!’”

MAY 15: Billy’s Trip in the Coach

“A little Boy named Billy was sitting in front of a fire,” began daddy. “It was in his own bedroom and he was in a great big armchair toasting his feet before he got into bed.

“He began thinking of the picture over the fireplace. It was a most wonderful picture. There was a stage coach and a driver all dressed in red. There were eight white horses with big red plumes standing up from their harnesses, which made them look very fine indeed. And then there were two footmen just climbing upon the coach. They never seemed to reach the top; they always seemed to be in just the same place trying to get there!

“Now Billy wondered if they didn’t get tired of being over the fireplace all the time, hanging up on a silly hook. To him the eight beautiful horses looked as if they needed a good gallop and run, and the little fat coachman in red looked as if he would like to be off for a trip too.

“As Billy was wondering about it, suddenly he saw the coachman wave his arms, flourish his whip and the two footmen jump—actually jump right upon the top of the coach.

“And then the coach began to fill with passengers. The Fairy Queen was there with all the little Fairies trailing along too. Billy didn’t see how the coach could possibly hold so many passengers, but to his great surprise it began to grow larger and larger. And soon he heard a gruff voice.

“‘Well, Billy, do you want to see where we go when we take our trips? You mustn’t think we stay over this fireplace all the time. We have many friends, and we go upon wonderful trips when you’re fast asleep. But this time we will take you with us.’

“Just then a little Gnome came down from the coach and began to help Billy up.

“Off they went, with the most dashing and daring speed. Around cliffs they tore, and over the narrowest and most dangerous roads.

“Finally they came to the very steepest cliff you can possibly imagine.

“‘Well,’ said the fat little coachman, ‘here we all get dashed to pieces unless the Tipping Bird comes along.’

“‘Dear me,’ said Billy, ‘I do hope he comes. I would hate to be dashed to pieces.’

[Illustration: “MR. OWL AWAKENED THE FAIRIES AND TOLD THEM TO LISTEN TO HIS BOOK.”—_Page 111_]

“‘Oh, that’s just to make it more exciting,’ said one of the Fairies; ‘we won’t really be dashed to pieces. The Tipping Bird is a Bird known only in Fairyland, and he always comes just as the Fairy Queen waves her wand.’

“And soon what should Billy see come flying along but a great big black Bird—the biggest Bird Billy had ever seen in all his life. They left the coach on the side of the cliff, and then the horses, coachman, footmen, Fairies, Gnomes, Billy and all, found nice little parts of the Tipping Bird’s wings to rest in. Soon they were flying over the side of the cliff, and then landed in a beautiful valley of soft feathers.

“‘Oh dear,’ said Billy, ‘where are we going now?’

“‘You must sleep in your good soft bed instead of the chair,’ said Billy’s mother, who had carried him asleep to his bed while he had been dreaming of the trip in the coach.”

MAY 16: Mother Maple Tree

“I am going to tell you,” said the old maple tree, “a little family history. We belong to the Sugar Maple family. Our trees are often used in making furniture, and our sap gives wondrous maple sugar which boys and girls and ladies and gentlemen love so much!

“And when autumn comes we all dress up in the most wonderful costumes of red and orange and flaming gold. But we will not talk about autumn quite yet.

“The work for us to do now is to see that each leaf grows to be as big and beautiful as possible. For we have been known as one of the nicest of shade trees. We keep the sun from shining down too hard on people during the hot summer months. We make shady avenues and streets and driveways.

“Mr. Sun is a perfectly splendid old chap, but in the summer he gets so excited that he is very warm, indeed, and the people love the shade we can give. So you see, leaves, you must not be lazy!”

The leaves rustled and shook their heads. “No, Mother Maple, we will not be lazy.”

“We have many cousins,” continued Mother Maple. “There is Cousin Sycamore Maple whose family comes from far away. Cousin Sycamore is not very strong and its flowers are late in coming out. Now Cousin Norway Maple is quite different. A fine strong tree Cousin Norway is, and a tree that doesn’t mind soot and dust and smoke or insects. Many of Cousin Norway’s children are planted in city streets where there is a great deal of smoke.

“There is Cousin Box Elder which is a relation because it has clusters of ‘keys’ or seeds, which hang on all winter.

“Cousin Striped Maple is very beautiful with its streaked white lines. In the winter oftentimes its bark is used by boys for whistles and in the autumn Cousin Striped Maple is yellow and very handsome.

“As for Mr. Mountain Maple—well, Cousin Mountain is so named because upon all mountains the Mountain Maple loves to grow and Cousin Vine Maple is so named because it hasn’t the strength to stand up by itself and its stems are like vines.

“Cousin Silver Maple is very beautiful but is not strong enough to stand the city. Cousin Silver likes parks which are given over to trees and greens and plants.

“And then there are the red maple and the black maple. Cousin Black Maple is almost exactly like us, but its branches are orange colored and its ‘keys’ spread more widely than ours do.

“Cousin Red Maple loves the swamps and is a beautiful tree, as are all his children, but I’m glad we belong to the Sugar Maple family.”

“So are we, Mother Maple,” said the leaves, as they all promised to be good and beautiful and strong.

MAY 17: The Sport Fish

“At the seashore the other day when it was so warm,” said daddy, “I saw some great things which were made to look like big fish. They were made of rubber, I was told, and pumped up like automobile tires, and then they were covered with canvas.

“Their eyes were painted on the canvas, so were their fins and their tails. They looked like very funny fishes but still they did not look quite right. And people were riding on top of them in the water, and what games they did have with the breakers. The fishes would rush in to the shore when a great wave would come and the people would have a most glorious ride. And children rode them, too. They’re not in the least dangerous, for if any one falls off in the water when he is riding a fish which lies right on top, he has no distance to fall at all, and simply gets a nice, jolly ducking.

“But by holding on fast no one need fall off—just lie or sit on the fish and the breakers and the fish do the rest.

“Well, such fun as every one was having at the beach. The children were laughing and crying out, ‘Let’s ride the sport fish.’

“Big men and grown-up ladies were saying, ‘Let’s ride the breakers on the sport fish. My, how they go! Aren’t they fun.’

“And I am quite sure that farther out in the ocean real fishes were saying, ‘Well, isn’t it a shame! Here there are make-believe fishes that are thought more of than we are. And we’re real, not just imitations!’

“But I also felt sure that old Grandfather Ocean Fish said, ‘Now, look here, we have no right to get mad. We never offered our backs for folks to ride on. And we never rushed in to the shore on the great breakers. So we can’t grumble. For the sport fishes—not real like us, to be sure—will help the grown-ups and children have the kind of fun they like.’”

MAY 18: Mother Sheep

“My beautiful baby, Laura Lamb,” said Mother Sheep, “we always follow the leader. We’re gentle and we’re quiet. We’re rather timid, too. We don’t think a great deal for ourselves.

“They say,” Mother Sheep continued, “that when people cannot sleep they make believe they are seeing sheep, and that they are counting them going through a gate. That is because sheep follow each other, and if one were going through a gate the others would be going through, too.

“Oh, they get tired, you see, of counting the sheep they make believe that they see! And so they go to sleep!

“And you see what a help we are to people when we do such things, so that they can see us in their minds going through a gate—one after the other.

“You see, my Laura Lamb, if sheep should go different ways then people couldn’t be helped toward sleep by us, and it is nice to think of helping people to sleep, for we’re gentle, kind souls, and it is nice to help.

“So, Laura Lamb, you, too, always follow the leader. Don’t go through one gate yourself and have your cousins going through another and some other cousins through the opening in the fence and the others perhaps going under the fence.

“We must all go together, we sheep.”

And Laura Lamb bleated and said: “Ba-aaa-baa-aaa, Mother Sheep! I will do as you say.”

MAY 19: The Monkeys’ Victory

“The Animals in the Zoo were boasting one day,” said daddy.

“‘I am the most wonderful of you all,’ said the Black-Footed Penguin. ‘I live in water and on the rocks. My ways are interesting. I have strange habits, and what is more my voice is like a donkey’s. I can bray most beautifully.’

“‘Well,’ laughed the Donkey who was passing along the road. ‘The idea of comparing yourself to me.’ And the Donkey stopped quite still, even though he was pulling a cart in which was a little Girl.

“‘Go on,’ said the little Girl. But the Donkey stood quite still.

“‘You can’t bray as well as I can,’ said the Donkey.

“‘I bray just the same way,’ said the Black-Footed Penguin.

“‘Well,’ laughed the Hyena, ‘most People and Animals don’t think a Donkey’s voice is anything very fine.’ And the Hyena went on laughing and laughing, almost until his sides burst!

“‘If you’re going to be rude,’ said the Donkey, ‘I shall leave.’

“‘At last,’ said the little Girl in the cart, ‘the Donkey has decided to move. I thought I might have to sit here all day.’

“‘Ah,’ said the Sea Lion, ‘none of you are as fine as I am. I jump into the air to get my food. I don’t get it in any commonplace, ordinary way. No indeed, I jump for it. Each time I do a trick. And they stop and look at me. For I am very interesting.’

“‘It’s much nicer,’ said the bushy-tailed Wood-Rat, ‘to be what I am. My tail is the wonder of the world.’

“‘I never heard that before,’ said the Flying Squirrels. ‘Now with us, it is different. We can fly! We are like Birds. That’s very superior.’

“‘But you’re not Birds,’ said a Sparrow, who was flying by the cages, and over the yards of the Animals. ‘At the rate you are talking, I am about as interesting as any of you. I can fly for that matter, and I can pick up food. I fly down for it instead of flying up for it like Mr. Sea Lion.’

“‘I don’t fly up for it,’ said Mr. Sea Lion. ‘I jump for it.’

“‘Oh, all right,’ said the Sparrow. ‘I’m sure I don’t care whether you jump or fly. You’re very fussy about words, it seems to me.’

“‘Look at me,’ said the Seal. ‘I come from a wonderful land, and I am a thing of great beauty. My skin is beautiful. And I swim so nicely, and I like the water so much.’

“‘You’re no better than I am,’ said the Alligator crossly.

“‘Nonsense,’ said the Seal, ‘but I won’t quarrel with you about it, for I know I’m right.’

“‘I have the finest coat,’ said the Zebra. ‘Now, in truth, I am something worth looking at.’

“‘You’re queer, that’s all,’ said the Rocky Mountain Sheep from his yard.

“The Australian Dog who looked like a Fox also got into the argument, but back in the Zoo house, the Monkeys were saying:

“‘Now, to-morrow let us see who gets the most admiration and attention. Then we will see who is the most interesting Animal in the Zoo.’

“‘All right,’ agreed the other Animals, for each was quite sure he’d win. The word was whispered about the Zoo that the visitors should decide the question.

“The next day the Children began to arrive—and all day long they kept coming. Each Animal had fussed to look his best, and when the Children would pause and stop to admire any Animal the others would look angry.

“They stopped before every Animal for a few moments, and would say to each other:

“‘Oh, look at this queer Animal! See what he does!’ But then they would pass on and in front of the Monkey cages they stood. The Monkeys performed tricks, they made faces and they ate peanuts which were given to them, and at the end of the day, alas and alack, every Animal had to admit that the one who received the most attention from the Children was the old Monkey and his family.”

MAY 20: The Mosquitoes

“Well, friends,” said the little mosquito, “how about a banquet to-night? It’s the first warm evening of the season, and without a doubt the people will sit out on their porches and enjoy the beautiful air.”

“They won’t enjoy us,” said the second mosquito.

“Well, I’m sure we wouldn’t be flattered if they did,” said the first mosquito. “If they enjoyed us it would mean that we didn’t bite them, and that would never do.”

“It would never do,” agreed the second mosquito.

“Well, let’s be off, for the sun has gone down and the people will have finished their suppers before long.”

“All right,” said the first mosquito, “I’m ready, and I’ll give a call to the children and to the cousins and to all of the family and relatives.”

“Buzz-buzz-buzz,” came back the answers, and soon all the mosquito relatives had joined the first two mosquitoes.

“Is every one ready for a banquet?” asked the first mosquito.

“Every one, without a doubt,” said the mosquitoes.

So they all started forth and buzzed along, talking of people who felt them most.

“We don’t want to go to those who’re not properly bitten by mosquitoes,” said the first mosquito.

“I heard some one say, the other day,” said the second mosquito, “that the two creatures she hated most were the flies and the mosquitoes. She said she didn’t like yellow-jackets and hornets, but practically every other creature she liked.

“Now, wasn’t that a nice compliment?”

“A large one,” said they all.

“What do you mean by a large compliment?” asked the second mosquito. “You should say a big compliment. But still what do we care about words except a few choice ones such as bite and bitten and will bite?” So the mosquitoes hurried, and some of them went on one piazza where people were sitting and some on another, and were happy over their mean banquet.

MAY 21: The Potato Bugs

“Well, it is time we should get started,” said Mrs. Potato Bug.

“And we must work hard,” said Mr. Potato Bug.

“We have such fun working,” said the little potato bugs.

The potato bugs had six legs apiece. They had little black feelers and tiny eyes. They were yellow and black on the back, and blue and brown underneath.

They spit a little yellow juice on any one who took hold of them, for they said:

“It’s all right for us to treat the potatoes badly, but it is a different thing for people to have the bad manners to pick us up as if we were little creatures of no importance.”

There were also brick-red bugs with black dots on either side. These were the little potato bugs, while the others were the daddies and the mothers. They got on the leaves of the first potato crop and fed off them, eating away at the leaves as hard and as fast as such tiny creatures could do.

These little bugs were very anxious to kill the plants and they would have done so if they had made a good headway. That is, they would have done a great deal of harm if they hadn’t been driven away in time.

But these bugs went to other potatoes and they saw some of the potato grubs, so they said to them:

“Potato grubs, what are you doing?”

“We’re eating holes in the potatoes,” said the grubs. “What are you doing?”

“We were eating leaves of potato plants,” said the potato bugs. “We were driven away from some other plants, but here we are, and the dear little children have come, too.”

“Are you going to eat the leaves here?” asked the grubs.

“We think they look good,” said the potato bugs.

“They do,” said the grubs, “but of course we pay all our compliments to the potatoes themselves. We don’t bother about the leaves.”

“Perhaps,” said the potato bugs, “the potatoes wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t pay them such compliments.”

“Perhaps not,” said the grubs, “but we do, just the same. We say to the potatoes:

“‘Dear potatoes, we love you. Let us show you how fond we are of you by eating you.’”

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the potato bugs, “that is a good joke.”

“The farmers don’t like the jokes, though,” said the grubs. “They think they and their wives and their children and their neighbors and their friends are the ones who should pay such compliments to the potatoes.”

“Absurd,” said the potato bugs.

“Of course,” admitted the grubs, “it is not so absurd if we put ourselves in their places, but who in the world ever imagined that a grub would put itself in the place of a person? No one would, so why should we do it? And we don’t.”

“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and neither do we. If we cared for people we wouldn’t eat the leaves and we wouldn’t try to destroy the plants.”

“We’re not friendly with farmers even if we do like potato hills,” said the grubs.

“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and why should we be friendly with the farmers? They don’t like us. They ask us to leave. They try to get rid of us.

“They never invite us to have some of the leaves of the potatoes, any more than they ask you to bite holes and eat of the potatoes.

“We have to invite ourselves and look after ourselves. It’s too bad the farmers don’t like us when we like the potatoes they plant.”

And so the potato bugs and the grubs tried to do all they could to hurt the farmer’s crop of potatoes. And they didn’t even feel badly, they were so naughty!

MAY 22: Meadow Mouse and Mole

“The Meadow Mouse and the Mole,” said daddy, “had become very good friends. They both lived near each other in the field, and they used to visit each other in their holes under the ground.

“‘What do you think of the food this year?’ asked Mr. Meadow Mouse, just as if he were staying at a hotel and wanted things the way he asked for them.

“‘Well, I think it’s pretty good,’ said Mr. Mole. ‘The farmer planted all the things I like best this year, and so I’ve had a very good time.’ Just then they heard a voice say:

“‘I advise you not to stay, You had better move away. For, some day when the farmer passes, He may chop your heads off with the grasses.’

“‘Oh, who could that have been?’ asked Mr. Meadow Mouse. And the voice went on:

“‘I cannot be seen, I’m the Fairy Queen.’

“Pretty soon Mr. Meadow Mouse and Mr. Mole were off for the next meadow, where the Fairy Queen told them they’d be safe, and all their children with them. Mrs. Meadow Mouse and Mrs. Mole didn’t care about moving, but when they were told that their heads would be chopped off if they didn’t, they hurried along!

“And when they got to the next meadow, they began to burrow in the ground and dig it up with their little noses. Especially good for such work was Mr. Mole, and his children all copied him, and were a great help.”

MAY 23: Wishes

“Hello, aprons, gloves, toys, books, games, gold fish, party dresses, gingham dresses,” called Fairy Grant-Your-Wishes to the toys and clothes in the children’s big store.

They all called back “Hello.” That is, all those did who were awake this evening and who weren’t so tired that they went to sleep at once.

“What is this I hear that you want?” she asked.

“We all wish we were something else,” said the gingham dress. “I’d like to be a party dress, and the party dress is tired of its ribbons and laces. The gold fish down the aisle wants to be—what is it you want to be, gold fish?”

“I want to be a toy,” said the gold fish.

“And oh,” said a pair of brown jumpers, “I want to be myself. But I want a playmate. I’d like to have a doll, please, Fairy!”

“The doll you shall have,” said the fairy. “I’ll wave my wand.”

As she did so the whole store began to grow and grow, it seemed. Each counter was now like a store in itself and none of the counters were near each other. There were great, enormous roadways between the counters and the things themselves were all different. The gingham dress was now a party dress. It was wonderful how a party dress had been made out of the gingham one, for the gingham dress saw that there was some of the old dress left.

“Oh,” said the gingham dress, now a party dress, “I do want to go to a party now.”

“You shall,” said Fairy-Grant-Your-Wishes, suddenly appearing again. “Every one is to have a complete, whole wish granted this evening. And all of the others will go where they please and be what they please.”

Such a change as there was. The gingham dress, now a party dress, found herself at a great party. There were many boys and girls and they looked at her as she came in the doorway. Oh, how strange and uncomfortable she felt. It was really a most miserable feeling.

“Do we make mud pies later on?” she asked of another party dress.

“Ha, Ha,” said the other party dress, “where did you come from that you didn’t know that at parties such as this we don’t do such things. We couldn’t soil our clothes. I do believe your grandmother must have been a gingham. My grandmother,” the other party dress said very proudly, as she walked off tittering and giggling, “was a Lady Lace and she went to court affairs where my grandfather, Lord Velvet, met her.”

“What horrid, snobbish creatures,” said the gingham dress. “Oh, dear, what shall I do? No one will be friendly with me. I wish I were going to a good outdoor garden-playground party where children and clothes did things so I wouldn’t feel so strange.”

“All right,” said Fairy-Grant-Your-Wishes. “I will make you happy and change you back to what you were.”

MAY 24: The Tree’s Complaint

“The house near-by is receiving a coat of paint,” began the tree, “and it is trying to pretend it’s the only thing that was ever painted. It is very proud and disagreeable about it.

“If the house were receiving any other kind of a coat I wouldn’t be angry with it. I would never expect to have a coat of cloth or rubber for the rain or fur perhaps for the winter, but then I’m not a boy, a girl, a lady or a big man. I’m a tree, and the house is a house.”

“Perfectly true,” said the song sparrow, “I don’t wish to correct a thing you have said.”

“But a coat of paint is entirely different.”

“Entirely, chirp, chirp,” agreed the song sparrow. “I don’t suppose a girl or a boy, a lady or a big man would care for a coat of paint.”

“Whiz, whiz, I should say not,” whistled the wind.

“But the house,” continued the tree, “pretends it is very wonderful. It is trying to look so fresh and stuck-up.”

“You must forgive those things,” said the song sparrow, “as the paint makes the house behave like that.”

“That’s so,” said the tree. “I suppose I was a bit harsh. But you know my trunk was painted this spring, painted white, to protect me and to look after me. So, I didn’t like seeing the house act in such a proud fashion.”

MAY 25: Saving a Tail

Evelyn rushed up to Jack as soon as he came out of school one day.

“Oh, Jack,” she said, “something is the matter with Marian. She behaves so queerly. She said she wanted to have me play with the other girls; she had something special to do at home. She really wouldn’t let me go home with her. I would have been mad only she was just too queer for anything. I don’t understand.”

“Jock was the same way; let’s go back, anyway, and see what is up.” Jock and Marian were cousins who had recently come to town.

They hurried down a street, running most of the way, and then turned down another and ran almost all of five more blocks to reach their cousins’ home.

Jack went half-way down the hall when he bumped straight into Jock coming up from the cellar. He was holding in his arms the little fox terrier Marian had bought just a week before with her birthday money. The dog was only a tiny puppy still, a lovely little soft white puppy with one brown ear and one black one and two black spots on his soft white back.

“Oh, did Buster get hurt?” Jack shouted. Buster, of course, was the small, gay, naughty, happy puppy.

“No, he didn’t,” said Jock. “And it’s none of your business, anyway, even if you are our cousins.”

“That’s so,” said Marian, who came up behind Jock. “If we want to have Buster’s tail cut, it’s no one’s business but our own. It was just like you to find out somehow.”

“Going to have his tail cut?” gasped Evelyn and burst into tears.

“Yes, fox terriers look absurd with long tails,” said Jock; “every one says so. And, besides, he’ll be all well in a week, quite well.”

“And for the sake of a little style,” said Jack, his teeth clenched tightly together, “you’d let that dog suffer for a whole week. I just wish I could cut off a part of your arm, that’s what I do.”

“The bones are soft,” murmured Marian. “He’d look foolish with a tail, so every one says.”

“What do you care what every one says?” screamed Jack; “you are two horrid, cruel children, and if you don’t let that poor puppy, who has never done you any harm, and who is at your mercy, alone, you’ll never be friends of ours, and we’ll tell others of your cruelty. We mean it, too.”

And they did mean it, for they didn’t care what any one thought of them so long as they saved the puppy from being hurt.

But after Jack and Evelyn had told Jock and Marian of the suffering it would mean for Buster, of course they didn’t do such a cruel thing. They weren’t really cruel, only they didn’t know that such a thing hurt dreadfully. They had never been told the real truth, and they were glad they had heard it in time!

MAY 26: Life in the Fireplace

“Jamie and Jackie had both fallen asleep in front of the fire,” commenced daddy, “and now instead of the fire they saw huge castles and towers and turrets and bridges and royal people. Far over in a corner, too, they saw a dark gray stone cave in which was sitting an old, old Witch dressed in a scarlet robe, with a tall black hat on her head.

“Soon they heard the Kings and Queens and the Princes and Princesses talking. They had low voices, but every little while a sudden gun would go off and for a moment they would all keep very quiet.

“‘What do those guns mean?’ asked Jackie and Jamie together.

“‘It’s the Fireplace clock,’ the Sparks answered.

“‘But it doesn’t seem to keep very good time—I heard the gun go off three times in a hurry and then not for ages,’ said Jamie.

“‘It keeps as good time as we care about,’ said the Sparks. ‘We’re not so awfully particular. Anyway, our bright colors and our gorgeous castles should be fine enough without hearing from you that our clock doesn’t keep good time.’

“‘Indeed, we do think you’re all beautiful, and we love a cool evening when we can have a fire. We don’t mind if your clock doesn’t keep good time,’ said Jamie.

“‘What are you saying about the time?’ said the Mother of Jackie and Jamie. ‘Bedtime, eh?’ for both Jamie and Jack were being shaken gently and told to trot off to their real bed. But as they both crawled into their nice soft sheets, they found that they’d each had the very same dream—and both had seen the Fireplace castles and heard the Fireplace clock which kept such bad time!”

MAY 27: The Jewelweed’s Visitor

“I am the Jewelweed flower, though I am sometimes known as the Touch-Me-Not flower, too.

“I have little seed pods and boys and girls love to pop open these pods, for then my seeds jump forth quite wildly and excitedly. I mean by my name of Touch-Me-Not, that no one must touch me unless he wants to be very much surprised!

“I am orange yellow in color and I have reddish spots upon me. I have also sometimes been called the Wild Lady’s Slipper because I am shaped something like that. And sometimes I’ve been called Lady’s Eardrops because my shape is something like a lady’s eardrop, too.

“I’m hoping I will have a caller to-day. I’m expecting one, I know. And I hope I won’t have to wait long. I haven’t seen this caller for some time.

“It is most exciting to expect a caller. Very, very exciting!

“They call me Jewelweed because in the early morning when I’ve taken my morning bath, as all good flowers do, in the Magic Dew Water which the Dewdrop Brothers bring around to us, I sparkle like jewelry.

“Oh, indeed! I always take a morning bath. Sometimes when it showers I take an extra bath.

“And always, when my bath is over, I look for Mr. Sun and I ask him to make my jewelry look pretty.

“Then my pretty leaves look so bright and sparkling. Yes, that is one of the reasons for my name.

“I do hope my visitor will be along soon. I asked him to come as soon as he came up this way.

“I sent word by the Breeze Brothers to be sure to let him know that I was waiting for him and that I hoped he would come to see me as soon as he arrived.

“Ah, I believe I hear my visitor coming. I believe I do.”

“May I come in, buzz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z, may I come in?”

“Oh, do,” said the Jewelweed. “I am expecting you.”

Then appeared Mr. Ruby-Throated Humming Bird who had just arrived from the South.

“Well,” he said, “how glad I am to see you.”

“And I am so glad to see you,” said the Jewelweed. “You must have a cooling sweet drink. I didn’t let any other visitors take any of it. No indeed! There was the Bee who tried to get me to give him a sweet drink, but I keep it deep down in my very center dining room where even the Bee with his long, thirsty tongue can’t get at it.

“I kept it for you, and you, with your tongue which can stretch out farther than your long bill, will be able to get it.

“Dear Mr. Humming Bird, I am so glad you have come. And you will have some refreshment, will you not?”

“Indeed I will, thank you, Jewelweed,” said the Humming Bird, “and it is indeed good of you to save your sweetness for me.”

“Ah, our families have been friends for so many years,” said the Jewelweed, “and I like to do as my family have always done.”

“I must be off now,” said the Humming Bird, “for as I have only just arrived I have a good many calls to make. There are a number of my flower friends who are expecting me to call as soon as I arrive. But may I come and see you again?”

“Oh, indeed yes,” said the Jewelweed, “and you will always be welcome. Make your other calls, but come back again soon.”

“I’ll be back soon,” said Mr. Humming Bird. “I have had such a charming call and it has been such a pleasure to feel that my visit has been so welcome.”

“Your visits are always welcome and always will be,” said the Jewelweed, “just so long as there are Jewelweeds and Humming Birds!”

MAY 28: Peter’s Birthday Party

“A little dog named Peter Murray,” said daddy, “was just one year old. His Mistress was a little girl named Inez and she was almost fonder of Peter Murray than of anything else in the world. Inez sent out invitations several days in advance to a number of the little boys and girls she knew who owned pet dogs. The invitations read:

‘Mr. Dog Peter Murray, At Home, In Honor of his First Birthday.’

“All of the little dogs who were invited accepted and the day of the party came at last. The first thing that Inez did that morning was to rush over to Peter Murray’s basket and say ‘Many happy returns.’ Now, of course, Peter Murray woke right up and was out of his basket with a bound.

“He jumped up and down for Inez, which was his way of saying, ‘Thank you, Missy,’ and he wagged his tail for all he was worth.

“‘We have lots to do to-day, Peter Murray,’ said Inez, and Peter Murray knew just what she meant. He put his head first on one side and then on the other. And when he saw Inez take a little purse out of her pocket and jingle some pennies he put his ears up in the air as if to say:

“‘What do those funny things mean?’

“‘They mean,’ said Inez, ‘that we must get goodies for the party, bones and such things.’

“Now, when Peter heard the word ‘bones’ he wagged his tail, for he knew perfectly well what bones meant.

“At last the time for the party came. And such a time as they did have. Every little dog brought Peter Murray a present. He got wonderful things, too. He was given a great pink bow and a new collar by his Mistress, which, of course, he wore to the party. Then he received a fine hard ball, a stick to play with, a second-best collar and a box of chocolates, for Peter Murray loved candy, too.

“‘Supper time,’ shouted Inez, and all the little dogs wagged their tails and jumped for the bones that Inez threw up in the air, until every little dog had one.

“You see they were not fussy like people, and didn’t sit down to eat their bones, for they had much fun throwing them up in the air and playing with them. And then came the ice-cream, which they ate out of little bowls, and for a surprise they had wonderful sugary cake, with a little dog made in sugar on the top of it! Inez cut the cake, for in each piece she had to take out a little bell which were the presents Peter Murray gave to his guests on his birthday!”

MAY 29: The Spring Flowers’ Talk

“Good-by, good-by,” called the trailing arbutus family. “It’s getting a bit too late for us. We will be around next spring, though.”

“Good-by, good-by,” said the hepatica family. “We will miss you, but we’re going ourselves soon. We’re glad to have seen you. How lovely and pink you were this year.”

“And how lovely and blue you were!” said the trailing arbutus flowers. “Some of you were the most wonderful shades of lavender and purple and even pink and white!”

“We like to have different colored frocks,” they said. But then fearing that they might hurt the feelings of the trailing arbutus family they added:

“We wouldn’t care about it, though, if we had the lovely pink dresses you have!”

“Thank you, thank you,” said the trailing arbutus family. “We’re very grateful to you.”

“Well, good-by,” said the hepatica family.

“Good-by,” said the arbutus family.

“Next spring, next spring,” added the hepatica family.

“Yes, next spring, next spring,” said the arbutus family.

“And we’ll come again, too,” said the little wild violets. “We’re early spring flowers, you know.”

“Of course you are, dear little violets,” said the arbutus and hepatica families together. “Next spring, then, little wild violets.”

“Next spring,” the violets whispered very softly.

MAY 30: Decoration Day

“The soldiers who have fought for their country should indeed be remembered by placing on their graves the flag for which they fought—the flag for which they gave up everything,” said daddy, on Decoration day.

“Not only is Decoration day a memorial to the brave men who have lived and died for their country, but it should help to make us worthy of these men who gave their all,” he ended.

MAY 31: What the Flag Said to Fred

“There was once a little boy named Fred,” said daddy. “He was very fond of soldiers and bands. He had a great many little toy soldiers, and he would have the most wonderful drills with them. Last Memorial day his grandfather, who had since died, had given him a little, old, ragged flag. But it was the stars and stripes, and Fred cherished it. His grandfather had fought in the Civil War and all through that war had carried the little flag. Now his grandfather was gone, and yesterday they had put a fresh flag on his grave. But Fred had the little flag that had been through the war.

“That night he was very tired, and he went to bed early. The cool white sheets and soft pillow were delightful to a very sleepy little boy, but soon he seemed to be sitting up on the pillow, and before him was the flag.

“‘I have come,’ said the little flag, ‘because I thought you would like me to talk to you. Your grandfather went to the Civil War, as you know.

“‘He was so brave in the war, and, oh, I was so proud while I was with him all the time that it was for my sake he was fighting! It’s the most wonderful thing in the world to be a flag even if you’re in rags.’”

JUNE 1: The Robin Parents

“Over a little balcony,” said daddy, “where a lady used to sit and sew, there were several roofs adjoining and going off from different sides of the balcony, and there were eaves running along the balcony. In the spring a Mr. and Mrs. Robin looked about them for their home. ‘How about this?’ asked Mr. Robin. He was pointing to the eaves right over the little balcony.

“‘There is some one there,’ said Mrs. Robin, ‘but she looks very nice and as though she wouldn’t hurt a little bird for anything. I think it is perfectly safe. See, she is looking at us and her voice is low, and she is not frightening us. She is speaking to us; listen to what she says.’ And they listened and heard the lady say: ‘Dear little robins, have you come to call on me?’

“‘Ah, her voice is so sweet and so nice, and she really seems to be glad to see us. Let us build our nest here.’

“‘I think it will be a good idea,’ said Mr. Robin.

“So they built their nest under the eaves, right over the balcony where all day the lady sat, most of the time sewing, some of the time reading.

“She would have visitors there, too, and sometimes she would tell them of the robins who were so near-by, but she always saw that no one frightened the robins, and that they were well looked after.

“She used to put bread-crumbs on the roof near the eaves. And a little pan of water was always there, too, for bathing or for drinking!

“Mr. and Mrs. Robin built a lovely big nest, and there Mrs. Robin laid the eggs. After a little while the baby robins came, poor little timid creatures, with scarcely any feathers at all.

“But Mr. and Mrs. Robin loved them and thought they were beautiful, just as boys and girls think their little baby brothers and sisters are beautiful, even if they have no hair on their heads—in fact, they like them that way, for then they look so appealing and so cunning and so helpless and yet so glad to be in the world. Usually Mother Robin guarded the nest, while Father Robin went off for food, for he was a very fine robin to go to market and pick out all the best things. He just knew so much about it all and was such a good business robin that he was a very fine provider.

“And, too, he knew that by helping Mrs. Robin he was sharing in everything, and he shared in doing what was to be done, it was not only fair to Mrs. Robin who would get all tired out alone, but it was also much more fun to help one’s mate.

“So the little robins grew up happily and safely in their nest by the little balcony.”

JUNE 2: The Robins Come to the Rescue

“I am going to tell you,” said daddy, “about the mother humming-bird whose little ones were about to be attacked by a snake when they were rescued by some brave robins.

“The snake had come over from the vacant field and had crawled up the honeysuckle vine as the mother humming-bird had gone off for some food. Some robins hovering near had seen the snake. They had cried out in terror and had flown over to the nest.

“The mother humming-bird heard the cries and hurried back, but the robins had frightened off the snake. The snake was not a very large one, and really he had been frightened by all the noise the robins had made, and when he saw so many birds flying toward him he got away very quickly.

“The mother humming-bird got back just as the snake was leaving the nest.

“She couldn’t thank the robins enough for flying to the rescue and saving her beloved little ones, but the robins didn’t want any thanks. They were thankful, too, that the dear little birds had been saved, for birds are very loyal to one another and will risk any danger to save each other.”

JUNE 3: The Persian Lilacs

“You know,” said one of the flowering almonds, “I think a special vote of thanks should be given to the Persian lilacs. Every year they come out, and after they go their lovely bushes are still so pretty with their green leaves.

“But best of all is the visit they pay us every single spring. They are so small and dainty a lilac, their color is such a soft shade of lavender, they are so beautiful and so flowery and so soft and sweet, and they are so very, very fragrant that we should tell them how much we love them and how glad we are each year to see them.

“It is only right to tell nice creatures and things that we like them. It would be quite unfair any other way at all, and so we should tell the Persian lilacs that we love them and that we welcome them and that we are looking forward to seeing them next year.

“We know how the people love them; we know that for years they have looked forward to seeing the Persian lilacs in the spring and enjoying them right through the spring, too. We know how, after the other lilacs have come out, the Persian lilacs bloom and then they last longer than the others, because they have come later.”

“Ah,” the Persian lilacs said, “it is good of you all to be so kind to us. Our bushes are all very grateful. But you know we couldn’t help but come out each spring. Beneath our bushes are beds of lilies of the valley, the sweet, fragrant lilies of the valley, that nestle in among their green leaves, and they always talk softly to us and send us their sweet greetings.

“Then the people are so fond of us; they love their Persian lilacs so, and all the flowers are so kind to us and help us add to the fragrance of the spring garden. There is no jealousy, and every one is trying to add his sweetness to the whole. We will always come out, never fear!” they ended.

[Illustration: “THE MOTHER HUMMING-BIRD HURRIED BACK.”—_Page 129_]

JUNE 4: How a Wish Saved the Raccoons

“One day Mother Raccoon was just about to start telling one of her stories,” said daddy, “when Daddy Raccoon saw all the children around her.

“‘Now this afternoon,’ said Daddy Raccoon, ‘I want to take all those silly little ’Coons and show them how they can become brave big ’Coons such as I am.’ And he thrust his tail this way and that with an air which said, ‘I’m certainly one of the finest, bravest Animals any one could hope to be like.’

“All the little ’Coons looked very mournful when they heard that they were to be taken off to learn how to hunt in the swamp near-by. They were always very much frightened when they went near the swamp, for they had often heard the sound of a big gun, or had seen a dangerous Man with a gun over his shoulder getting in behind the bushes.

“They began to wail and yell, but Daddy Raccoon was firm and as he was the head of the house—or rather the big tree without any leaves—Mother Raccoon had to let them all go.

“But as they were following Daddy Raccoon, she called out to them, ‘If anything happens to you wish very hard that you will be all right and the Fairy Queen may possibly be near-by and will grant you the wish.’

“Daddy Raccoon sniffed with scorn at such a remark, but he said that Mother Raccoon was such a sweet old dear she even thought well of the Rabbit family—and so she was apt to think so much of the Fairies in the same way.

“And off they all started. Some of the little ’Coons were rather proud at going off to hunt in the swamp and really pretended they were tired of Fairy Stories and were glad that Daddy Raccoon had thought it was time for them to grow up.

“Soon they reached the swamp and in they went to hunt for food to last them many days, as Daddy Raccoon had said.

“They did just as they were told and were beginning to be very good hunters and were learning just how to pick out the best parts of the swamp—when suddenly—an awful bang was heard near-by.

“‘Oh, dear; oh, dear,’ shouted the little ’Coons.

“‘Do be quiet, or they’ll know where we are,’ said Daddy Raccoon.

“The second bang sounded very much nearer and they all trembled, when one little ’Coon said, ‘Oh, if any little Fairy is hovering near—please tell the horrid man with the gun to go away.’ And, would you believe it, that man was heard to say:

“‘Well, I guess they’re all away for the day and I won’t try to catch Raccoons until to-morrow.’ Then Daddy Raccoon took all the little ones back to the old tree where Mother Raccoon was sitting curled up, shaking with fear while waiting.

“‘Tell them all the stories you want to,’ said Daddy Raccoon, ‘for one of your Fairy friends saved all our lives and whispered to the man with the gun to go home!’”

JUNE 5: The New Mole Home

“Mr. Mole was going to get married,” said daddy, “and he wanted to build a fine, fine home for the new Mrs. Mole. So he went forth into the nicest meadow he could find, and there, just at the end of it, near an old fence, Mr. Mole started to burrow into the ground.

“You know the Moles live underground almost all of the time, and there make their homes. Just near the fence Mr. Mole began to dig and dig. First of all he made a long, long tunnel, a funny underground passage which he called the Drive-Way of his Home!

“Of course the callers of Mr. and Mrs. Mole could hardly drive along this tunnel, but they could run and scamper along, and they liked to call it by a big name like Drive-Way.

“And after the long, long tunnel Mr. Mole started in to make a fine house out of the earth. He made lovely rooms, one for Mrs. Mole, one for himself, one for the little Mole who was to do the cooking and housekeeping and several guest rooms. For, as you can imagine, Mr. Mole was very fond of company. In addition to all this Mr. Mole built a very fine picture gallery—made in tiers of earth and mud—long rows and rows of it. On these he put pictures of his family which he made out of earth, too. Of course, Mr. Mole made every member of his family look just alike, but that didn’t make any difference. The Moles are not very fussy if their pictures aren’t very well taken, for they can’t bother to look at pictures much of the time.

“You see their eyes are very small and they like to look at things more worth while—such as food and corn starting to grow in the ground and all the things the farmers plant. They love farms, you know, where wonderful vegetables are planted deep down in the earth. They are very apt to burrow along and make paths so they can walk to a farmland and have a feast.

“But I must tell you more about Mr. Mole’s new home. The very last thing he did was to build a beautiful throne in the picture-gallery for Mrs. Mole.

“At last it was time for her to come to her new home and Mr. Mole had invited their friends and cousins, the Mole-Crickets, to come, too. These cousins have very strangely shaped front legs with which they burrow homes just like the regular Moles, and so they are considered relations.

“‘Here we all are,’ said Mrs. Mole, and she blinked her very small eyes, while all the other Moles blinked their tiny eyes, too, and looked about them. Through the Drive-Way they ran until they came to the house with all the beautiful rooms.

“The room Mr. Mole took them to last was the picture-gallery, where Mrs. Mole sat on the throne in honor of her wedding day, and the little Mole, who cooked, brought out some of the delicious stewed vegetables she had made for the wedding feast.

“You should have heard the Moles as they looked at the pictures. They thought every picture was one of their own relatives.

“One Mole would say:

“‘Why, there’s Mama,’ and another would say:

“‘Why, no, that’s not your Mama, that’s my Papa.’ However, they didn’t get in the least angry about the pictures—in fact, they thought it very clever of Mr. Mole to make pictures which looked like all their relations at the same time.

“‘But you haven’t noticed my wedding dress,’ said Mrs. Mole. ‘I think my new Home is S-C-R-U-M-P-T-I-O-U-S, which means beautiful in case any of you little Moles don’t understand the word I’ve said in honor of the day. And now that you’ve all admired my home, please admire my dress.’

“For the first time the Moles noticed that Mrs. Mole had attached to her tiny ears little earrings made of mud with a red berry in each, and she wore a necklace to match. Her dress was of dull oak leaves which Mrs. Mole had saved for a whole year to wear on her wedding day.

“‘You’re a handsome Mole,’ said Mr. Mole, ‘and I’m so proud you’re to share this home I’ve made,’ and all the other Moles grinned and ate more and more of the vegetable wedding feast to show what a good time they were having.”

JUNE 6: The Green Canoe

“I think I will tell you about a very lucky little girl who once received a canoe from her big brother,” said daddy.

“This little girl loved the water. She had always lived near a lake, and she could swim and row.

“Now, this little girl had a great big brother who worked in an office in the big city. He had only a short holiday every year—just two weeks—but during those two weeks he would come home and teach her new strokes in swimming and new ways of diving, for he was very anxious that no one should be able to excel his sister as a swimmer.

“And secretly he longed to give his sister a canoe so she could go on the water just as much as she wanted to, and, as she was such a good swimmer, he felt it would be perfectly safe for her to own one.

“But, of course, a canoe is quite expensive, and the heads of offices in the big city do not consider that the big brothers may want to buy their little sisters canoes with the money they earn. Perhaps they think it is very silly to even dream of such things as canoes. But slowly during the winter the big brother had saved just as much money as a canoe would cost, and in June he wrote his sister a little note.

“In the note he said that he had a ‘little present’ for her which he had had put in the cellar and that she would find it there if she went and looked.

“Now, the little girl could not for a moment imagine what kind of a present would be put in the cellar. But she hurried down to see.

“And there—right before her eyes—was a lovely big green canoe—just the very nicest shade of green—and there beside it were the two paddles. Well, she could hardly speak. She had never dreamed that she would own a canoe, or, anyway, not for years and years and years.

“On the canoe was printed ‘Indian Girl,’ but she at once named it Papoose, which means, you know, a little Indian baby.

“You see, her big brother had arranged that the canoe should be taken down into the cellar when the little girl was asleep, so the surprise would be perfect. And it certainly was!

“In another week the big brother came up from the city, and they spent all their time in the green canoe on the lake.”

JUNE 7: The Bunnie and the Fox

“In the woods,” said daddy, “there lived a mother Rabbit and all her little children. They had a beautiful home—as nice as could be, in one of the finest brier patches ever known. Mother Rabbit was really extremely proud of her home and used to give many fine receptions there for the animals. Especially wonderful were her carrot receptions. The thing that worried Mother Rabbit most of all was that little Bunnie Bonnie, her youngest son, was very, very curious. Of course, Rabbits are always inclined to be curious, but Bunnie Bonnie was even more so than most of his family. And he was sociable. Entirely too sociable his mother thought.

“He liked to go to every party that was given in the woods—even if the parties were not given by his friends.

“Now, one day a black fox moved to the woods to live. None of the animals were pleased to hear that he’d come to stay, for that meant they would have to think of getting out of his way, and doing as he said. Many of the animals left food at the entrance to his home so he wouldn’t eat them up instead!

“Mr. Black Fox looked all about the neighborhood and he noticed Bunnie Bonnie scampering around more than any of the others. So one day he spoke to him and this is what he said:

“‘I’m glad to see you’re a brave Rabbit, and that you’re not afraid of me. Some of these other silly Rabbits tremble when they see me and leave me good things to eat—but I know why they do that. They want me to get all through my meals at home, and not go looking near their homes for extra delicacies—such as their small children.

“‘But it’s so absurd. They’re abusing me. Just because I’m black it doesn’t mean that I’m cruel and bad. In fact, I’m very kind and very good.’

“Of course, Bunnie Bonnie should have known that if Mr. Black Fox was so good he wouldn’t have found it necessary to talk about it. But Bunnie Bonnie never thought of that—and he forgot—completely forgot—that the Fox family is known to be very sly.

“‘And,’ continued Mr. Black Fox, ‘I’d be greatly honored if you’d come to supper with me this evening.’

“‘I’d be pleased to,’ said Bunnie Bonnie.

“Now, Bunnie Bonnie’s mother was giving one of her receptions that afternoon so she told the children to play in the little garden she had back of her home in the brier patch. And Bunnie Bonnie left his little sisters and brothers to have supper with Mr. Black Fox.

“Mr. Black Fox was sitting outside his front door waiting for Bunnie Bonnie. He was chuckling to himself, and his eyes looked very wicked and cruel. But when he saw Bunnie Bonnie running up his path-way, he began to smile and called out in the pleasantest tone he could use:

“‘Hello, Bunnie Bonnie.’

“‘Hello, Mr. Black Fox. Here I am, and, oh, I’m so hungry, too. I didn’t stop to get any of my Mother’s carrots as they were being fixed for her party, but came right along!’

“‘I’m going to have something better than carrots for my supper.’

“‘What?’ said Bunnie Bonnie in a cheery tone, for little did he suspect the old Fox.

“‘I’m going to have you, you little stupid,’ roared Mr. Black Fox, but Bunnie gave one bound and ran for the brier patch. He just reached there ahead of Mr. Black Fox, and never again did he leave his family for new friends.”

JUNE 8: The Homebody Bee

“Ah,” said Queen Bee, “I do not work, but I lay the eggs, and so I am called the Queen Bee, for all the little eggs are my subjects and all around me do everything they can to help me and to wait on me.

“When I tell you how many eggs a day I lay during the time when I feel in the mood for laying, you will be surprised. The number amounts to from two to three thousand eggs.

“You see, buzz buzz, I don’t like to do anything that is small. I don’t care about doing little bits of work. I like to do a lot. That is why I’m a queen; I am an important creature, and not just like all the rest!

“And I am waited on by my helpers who digest the food, the pollen which I eat.

“I am fed royal jelly, a most deliciously sweet food made only and served only to a Queen Bee who has been brought up in the Queen’s royal chambers, or in the Queen Bee cell, as it is usually known.

“My workers have better eyesight than I have, and so they go in search of the honey. During the summer I go from one cell to another laying my eggs.

“But I never leave the hive, though I may live to be several years old. Sometimes it is true I go off upon a flight with my mate or with a swarm of bees, but Queen Bee is a homebody.”

JUNE 9: Ladybug’s Lecture

“Dear little Ladybugs, gather around me,” said Ladybug, “for I am going to give a lecture.

“It will be a free lecture, and pray, Ladybugs, do not think that on that account it will be poor. Too many folks have the idea that nothing is good that is free.

“They don’t bother to find out how many nice things are free, and they don’t stop to think about them. Take birds and their concerts—quite free.

“And lovely wild flowers—quite free. And the woods and lakes and rivers and ponds—practically all of them free. And many free concerts and oh, so many things that if I go on talking about them I will never have time for my lecture.

“So I shall begin my lecture if all the Ladybugs are ready, and if the Ladybug who has charge of this hall (for I must call this place where I am lecturing a hall) will kindly bring me an acorn filled with water I shall be much obliged. Lecturers should always have such things by them, and oh yes, a light and a pointer to point to my maps and my pictures. But on second thought they won’t be necessary for I have no maps and no pictures. Well, then, are we all ready?”

A little Ladybug came hurrying up with the acorn filled with water and said in a low tone, “If you want any more I’ll bring it in to you.”

“Thanks,” said the Ladybug, who was about to lecture.

“Now, friends,” she began, “Mrs. President, Lady Chairman, I greet you.”

There was no Mrs. President and no Lady Chairman, but that didn’t make any difference.

“I have something very fine to tell you. Something very fine upon a subject which strikes close to the heart of all of us.”

Ladybug, the lecturer, placed one of her legs in the direction of her heart and looked very fine indeed doing so.

In a moment or two she went on: “I have heard, and it is quite true, that we have all been paid a very great compliment. We have been paid one of the greatest of compliments.

“It has been both expensive and a bit difficult to get to Europe of late—especially has it been too expensive, and I don’t believe any of the Ladybugs have enough money in the Ladybugs’ bank to use that to go to Europe.

“It’s a fine bank and it is nice to go to a bank where ladies are especially looked after and all of that.

“But we haven’t enough money in the bank. Dear me no, not nearly enough.

“However, those of our family who were chosen to go weren’t asked how much money they had at all. They weren’t even asked if they had any money.

“They weren’t even asked if they would pay for their laundry and their own food.

“They were just invited to go and were told the work they would do would be enough thanks for the opportunity they were having to travel.

“Yes,” said Ladybug, “many, many, many Ladybugs have been shipped to France to destroy bad insects.

“Of course, I’m not sure whether the Ladybugs can talk French or not, but they can work anyway and make the whole Ladybug world proud of them.

“But I think it would be interesting if we all studied a little French so that we would be able to say how-do-you-do and good-by and pleased-to-meet-you in French, in case we’re called upon next. And my lecture is not only free. It is quite, quite true.”

“Ah,” said all the Ladybugs when they had finished cheering the speaker, “we will all study a little French and be ready. Ah, what an honor for the Ladybugs of this land!”

“Gorgeous,” said Ladybug, the lecturer.

JUNE 10: The Waves’ Wishes

“We are mad, Mother Ocean,” said some of the waves. “We’ve never been given a fair chance. We’ve always been here—your children; we’ve had to do just as you said. We’ve been allowed to play when you’ve been perfectly willing we should play and when you’ve been willing to ask the Wind to play with us. But we’ve had to do as you and the Wind said.

“And we’ve had to sleep when you’ve told us to. It’s not fair. Just because we’re only some of the drops of water which belong to you we haven’t any say of our own.”

“What is it you would like to do?” asked Mother Ocean in her deep, great voice.

“We’d like to see more of the world,” they said.

“We’d like to go traveling. We’d like to see what the cities and forests are like; we’d like to see some other creatures beside fishes and people swimming in us. We’re tired of an ocean life.

“We want to live on the land. We want to do great things—what do we do here that ever amounts to anything?”

“So you’d like to see the world?” asked Mother Ocean. “Well, Waves, go forth; I won’t stop you. And may you come back to me with stories of adventures!”

JUNE 11: The Waves’ Adventures

When the waves were told they could leave Mother Ocean they weren’t so happy as they had expected to be.

They had really expected Mother Ocean to forbid them to go—then they could continue grumbling, which they were quite enjoying. Now they felt they must start at once to show that they were really anxious to see the world. They didn’t want to let Mother Ocean see that they would rather stay where they were quite comfortable and where they could grumble! Mother Ocean was sighing a little.

“I’m sorry to see you go,” she said. “It’s the first time any of my children or grandchildren have wanted to leave me.”

The Waves didn’t look at Mother Ocean. Instead, they pulled their beautiful white caps down over their heads and shed a salt water tear or two. Then they picked up their shell suit-cases from Mother Ocean’s ground floor, packed in their sea-weed nighties and their best sea-green suits and sea-blue party dresses and were off.

They ran over the beach and rudely went right over the feet of some people who were sitting down on the beach reading books. Then they scrambled on, stumbled and scrambled on a little farther.

“Oh dear,” said one of the waves; “oh dear, the sun makes me feel so dizzy.”

“And I feel so hot and dry,” said another. “Oh dear, oh dear! I must weep.” But not even any salt tears would come to the wave’s dry eyes.

“Are you ready to have adventures?” asked a little creature who suddenly came up to the waves. He looked like a little brownie and he seemed quite amused at meeting the waves. “I’ve heard you wanted to see the world and to do great things,” he continued. They wanted to tell him he would look far better in a cool green suit than in his warm-looking brown one, but suddenly they realized that they could only speak the language of the ocean and that he couldn’t understand them, though they could understand him, for they had so often heard people speak.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” he grinned, “but I suppose you mean to say ‘Yes,’ as I’ve been told you’ve come to see the world.

“Well, first we shall take a trip through some forests.”

They tried to follow the brownie, and found it was very hard work. He led them along so fast, and they couldn’t make him understand that they’d like a drink of water and a cooling bath.

Pretty soon they found themselves in some very dark forests. All around them were strange birds calling to each other and singing songs about juicy worms. The waves trembled, for they thought the birds might sing soon about juicy waves, and then might swallow them down!

And they saw strange animals, rabbits and woodchucks and squirrels, all quite small but very terrifying to the waves.

They saw some little red lizards and small snakes which wriggled along and which didn’t seem in the least friendly like fishes.

After they had passed through the forests and had been frightened almost out of their wits the brownie hurried them along to the edge of a city and then right into the city.

JUNE 12: The Waves’ Story

The Waves begged the brownie to take them back to the ocean for they said they had had adventures enough. And the night they got back Mother Ocean gave a great ball. The wind came and danced and sang, the waves all danced, the sea-shells laughed and sang and through it all Mother Ocean kept smiling and singing to herself:

“Away from home. They wanted to roam, Away from the ocean deep. And I did not say ‘No,’ But I let them go, Though many salt tears did I weep. But now they are home, They no longer will roam, Away from the ocean deep. And they will say ‘No,’ If I suggest that they go, So now I can sing and not weep.”

And ever since that day none of the Waves have ever wanted to leave their Mother Ocean to adventure over the earth.

JUNE 13: A Poor Weed

“Somehow,” said the yarrow weed, “I have been left here and only a little of the hay is left. It has all been cut down to feed to the animals. The animals don’t like to eat me. They say I am so bitter. Ah, poor me, I cannot help it if I am bitter.”

“Do not be so sad,” said Old Hay. “It isn’t so wonderful to be eaten. Aren’t you happier above the earth, having the sun look down upon you and the wind rustle by you, than to be inside a cow or a horse or a sheep?

“The farmer does not like you because you take up the room which might be used by some grass which would be good for his animals.”

“Yes, I’m like an unwelcome visitor, a guest who isn’t welcome.”

“My dear Yarrow,” said Old Hay, “you mustn’t mind it if some creatures don’t like you. There will always be some creatures who don’t like something or some one. It is a waste of time worrying about it.”

“I won’t worry about it any more,” said the yarrow weed, “but I do wish that I didn’t look so ragged and shabby all the time. I am such an ugly gray color. My leaves look old as though I were very poor.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Old Hay, “I no sooner get rid of one worry for you than you think up another. It’s all right to wear old things if you want to. I have heard of people who wear their last year’s clothes so they can do fine things with their money.”

“But I haven’t money,” said the yarrow weed.

“Dear me,” said Old Hay, “please cheer up. Of course you haven’t money. You’re a weed, and as you say, you are a poor and rather unpopular weed.

“But you mustn’t be discouraged, for I’ve heard you were often used as a charm. You are supposed to bring good luck and a long, happy and prosperous life. So some people save a bit of you to keep for luck.”

“Ah, yes,” said the yarrow weed, “even though I am a poor weed I have something to make me very proud and glad.”

JUNE 14: The Bicycle’s Joy

“I remember a story of my grandfather,” said the bicycle. “He was given as a surprise to a little girl by her brother. She didn’t know what she was going to have, only her brother told her she was going to have a great and enormous surprise. I think my grandfather has often told the story.

“The brother made up puzzles to help the sister guess what her surprise was going to be but she simply couldn’t guess anything so wonderful as a bicycle.

“The brother had saved up for ages and ages to give it to her—all paid for out of money he had earned himself.

“Well, when my grandfather was given to her, he said that the little girl just said, ‘Oh, brother,’ and put her arms around her brother’s neck and the tears came to her eyes for very joy of the great, great surprise.

“I was afraid such days had gone. But at last I was sold and I find there are lots of bicycles around and that children still do enjoy them.”

“Oh yes, indeed they do,” said the second bicycle.

“Oh,” said the first bicycle, “I am so joyous. My tires are full of joy and air. My bell rings merrily. Oh, I’m a happy, happy bicycle.

“Now I don’t care if children do love airships and automobiles and all sorts of modern toys and if they like kites because they fly so high in the air and are so lovely, for they still have room in their hearts for the loyal old bicycle friend.

“It’s a great joy to be a bicycle after all.”

JUNE 15: The Best Apple Tree of All

“Of all the trees in the orchard,” began daddy, “every spring this old apple tree I am going to tell you about had the most beautiful of blossoms. And when midsummer came the apples that came out on that tree had, somehow, a better taste than the apples from any other tree. And one day I found out the reason.

“I thought the hammock, which hung under the apple tree, looked very comfortable, and so I made myself most cozy and happy. It was not long before I dozed off into a nice little nap, and then I heard what the apple tree was saying to the little unripe apples on the boughs.

“‘You must grow to be fine and ripe, and you must keep all the little apple-seeds good and warm so they can be just as brown as brown can be. That will mean that little boys and little girls can eat all they want, for so long as the seeds are brown they can never do any harm. And, you apples, you must be very sure that you turn around and have the sun warm you and make you bright and red.’

“As the old apple tree was talking, I noticed that the apples just grew a little bit bigger, and redder and fatter, and looked as they were—oh, so juicy and wonderful inside. I was certain, too, that the little seeds were growing browner every minute.

“‘You see,’ he continued, ‘it’s such an honor for us. You know that on the day we’re ripe the fairy queen brings all the little fairies to admire us, and they sit on the boughs and wave about with us. And more than that—you know the apple that is ripe first goes to the fairy queen and then some more go to the little fairies.’

“The fairies are too kind to take away the apples that real people like to eat—and so the old apple tree has arranged to have a great many more that we can’t see—they’re called the apples of fairyland.

“And the tree still went on talking:

“‘I, too, am working hard. I am practising my best bow to make to the fairy queen when she arrives the first day all the apples are ripe. So she is to come very, very early in the morning while every one else is sleeping. And when the children get up and find the apples are ripe so quickly, won’t they be delighted!

[Illustration: “‘THE FAIRY QUEEN BRINGS ALL THE LITTLE FAIRIES TO ADMIRE US.’”—_Page 142_]

“‘Now, get around so Mr. Sun will help you along. He’s the greatest help in the world to us—such a dear old soul.’

“Of course that flattered Mr. Sun so he helped still more, and just as I could feel him shining down with all his might—I woke up.

“I moved away from the apple tree then, for it was no longer shady; the sun had come around and told me to get up! But as I walked away and saw the apple tree waving around I knew it was practising for its bow and making the little apples hurry up and ripen.”

JUNE 16: An Elephant’s Wanderings

“There was once an elephant who got tired of the circus and wandered off one night when nobody was noticing,” commenced daddy.

“You see the circus was getting ready to go on to another village to give a performance and it was late at night. They never thought of an elephant getting away, but they hadn’t heard Jumbo telling the elephants of late how exceedingly tired he was of circus life and circus food and circus parades. He was not only tired of it all but he said he wanted to be a gentleman.

“The other elephants had asked him what a gentleman was, and this is what he told them:

“‘I heard two little boys talking of what they were going to be when they grew up,’ said Jumbo, ‘and one of them said he was going to be an engineer and build bridges. The other little boy had said he was going to be a gentleman and do nothing. The first boy thought he was quite wrong and very silly, but then and there I decided that it would be beautiful to do nothing.’

“The other elephants had asked Jumbo how an elephant could be a gentleman, any more than a gentleman could be an elephant, but Jumbo was determined to lead a lazy life. And you see neither Jumbo nor the little boy knew what being a gentleman really meant.

“So Jumbo escaped and the next morning Jumbo was in a barnyard, and as you will never be able to guess the friends he had chosen I’ll have to tell you. He was playing with a big brown dog, a mother hen and a whole lot of little chickens.

“Of course, he had to be very careful not to move so as to step on his new friends, for he knew it would be most impolite and not at all gentlemanly to step on a friend and crush him! But as he had wanted to stay quiet and do nothing he was very happy.

“The hen sat proudly on one of his ears, while the little chickens all sat on his head, and ran races up and down his marvelous trunk. The dog got up on his back and jumped off and on again and again. Meantime the elephant was sitting down in the barnyard looking very enormous and very much out of place.

“Soon the little girl, whose name was Betty, and who lived in the house beyond the barnyard came running out to give her pets their breakfast.

“At first Betty was somewhat frightened at seeing the big elephant, but then she felt that if the little chickens were so friendly with him, he must certainly be friendly.

“The elephant stayed some time with the animals of the barnyard and with Betty. But one morning bright and early she found Jumbo with an old ball and bat in his great trunk. He was practising baseball so he would not be put off the team when he got back to the circus for he had been planning for some time to return to his first friends.

“Well, this morning he had decided to leave. For late the night before he had heard the circus he belonged to arriving in the village where Betty lived.

“‘I’ve had a powerful good time,’ said Jumbo to Betty, ‘but I must be off. I haven’t done a thing for weeks and if this is what it means to be a gentleman I’d rather be an elephant—which, of course, is very easy for me to be—as I am one, don’t you see?’

“Now Betty didn’t understand what the elephant was really saying, but that afternoon when she went to the circus there she saw Jumbo in the baseball game, and doing all the tricks better than any other elephant. He was so delighted at having something to do again that though Betty missed him, still she was glad he was back where he was happiest.”

JUNE 17: The Story the Oak Tree Told

A soft breeze of early summer had been blowing all day. The leaves were looking so fresh and green and having a beautiful time in the warm sunshine.

“Well,” began daddy, “I must tell you the story the oak told to the other trees today.

“The other trees would sometimes sigh, ‘How nice!’ or something like that, but for the most part they let the oak tree do all the talking.

“It was a very young tree, but it looked as if some day it would be a fine big oak with spreading branches and great strong roots which nothing could shake.

“‘I was one day picked up as a little acorn by a small boy,’ said the tree.

“‘He carried me around in his pocket for days and days. I spent all my time sleeping, for his pocket was very dark and I could not stay awake in it.

“‘One day he happened to notice me especially. He wondered why he had been carrying me around for so long, for he himself couldn’t think of any reason why he should want me.

“‘And then he thought he would plant me. So he put me in the ground and covered me over carefully. He watched to see when I would come up. When first he saw me sprouting above the ground I thought he would go mad with delight, for he had really been very much worried about me. After having planted me he was very anxious that I should grow up right away. So he was a very happy little boy when he saw that I was really going to become a tree.

“‘Now he comes every day to look at me and has done so ever since I was born.

“‘You see it will make me a fine tree to have the pride of that little boy centered in me.

“‘And what is more, it will make him, I think, grow up to be a fine man, brave and strong like his tree, for that is what he calls me.

“‘So I feel that we will both help one another, and perhaps some day when he is an old man he will lead some little boy by the hand and will tell him of how he planted me and how he tried to grow up to be strong like his tree, and that will help the little boy, too.

“‘We trees can do a lot of good if we want to. Just think how nice it will sound to be called a fine old oak, and when we feel proud of ourselves we can think it is even better that we have helped little boys to be stronger too.’”

JUNE 18: The Weeds and the Flowers

“The Elves,” commenced daddy, “were playing in a garden one morning just at the break of day when all the flowers were opening their sleepy heads, and the ones which had not been sleeping were looking about them more brightly than ever.

“‘Good morning, Flowers,’ said the Elves. The flowers nodded their heads and smiled and waved about in the warm breeze. But the Elves heard some very strange sounds—not quite like the talk of the flowers—for to the Elves and Fairies, you know, there is a Flower language, and a Flower’s way of talking.

“‘What could these other sounds mean?’ they asked each other.

“‘We’ll tell you,’ said these voices. ‘We’re the Weeds. And some of us are beautiful, but all of us are strong. Yes, we’re so strong that no matter how they try to dig us up and throw us away we’re up again in no time. We’re little fighters—yes, we are. We have our Army headquarters. Indeed we do! And our Generals are very fine. They’re the great, tall Weeds you often see, and my, but it’s hard to get them out of the earth. If they are beaten more Generals take their places, for the motto of the Weeds is, “We’ll always be strong—there will always be Weeds.”

“And so they chatted on. The Elves were very much interested, but still they couldn’t quite see, when the Weeds were doing so much talking and bragging, how the flowers could smile so happily.

“So they whispered to the Flowers very gently:

“‘Tell us, Flowers, why are you so happy?’

“Then in lovely, soft rustling voices the Flowers said:

“‘We are going to have a Book written about us to-day. Yes, a real Book, and our pictures are going to be painted. We’re very proud and happy. We have a Mistress who comes out every morning and most of the day she is with us. She bends over us and digs up the earth around us so it is nice and soft and comfortable. And every evening after Mr. Sun has gone to bed she gives us cool drinks of water.

“‘It was only yesterday she told us that some Noble Grownup was going to write a Book about us and call it “The Ideal Garden.” We think that ideal means something like perfect—anyway it’s something extremely nice. And she has been making us ready for the Book. Oh, we’re very proud indeed.’ And then the queer sounds came again, and the Weeds spoke up:

“‘Yes, and we’re going to have a Chapter about us. We don’t quite understand yet what a Chapter is—but it’s a great deal—we’re sure of that. The Grownup told our Mistress that she was going to say something about pretty Weeds in a garden.’

“‘Well, we like you all—Flowers and Weeds,’ said the Elves.”

JUNE 19: The Insulted Flowers

“I do feel insulted,” said Mr. Orchid.

“It’s too absurd,” said Miss Lily of the Valley. For a lady was wearing a bunch of orchids and lilies of the valley and one of the orchids and one of the lilies of the valley were talking to each other. They felt very much hurt that they had been crushed and forced into such a great big bouquet to be worn, when a smaller one would have been so much prettier and nicer.

“Yes, we are being insulted,” said Mr. Orchid. “She doesn’t care one scrap for flowers. She just wants to look rich and so she bought us—and plenty of us, and that is what we call insulting.”

“It most certainly is,” said Miss Lily of the Valley. “No one who cared for flowers would wear as many as she is crushing together; no, indeed.”

JUNE 20: The Colored Bags

“Since Melly had been a little girl her Auntie had been very fond of her,” said daddy.

“One day Melly’s aunt was looking over a great box she had with pieces in it when Melly saw all the odd pieces of silk. ‘I wonder,’ said Melly’s Auntie, ‘if you would like to have me make you little bags, so you can carry your purse and your handkerchief in one when you go shopping, and your handkerchief and other odds and ends you carry around at other times in other bags? I could make you so many bags of so many different colors. Some, you see, could be yellow, some blue, some pink, some gray, some orange, some purple, some tan, some rose, some green, some white.’

“So that was the way Melly’s bags came about, and her Auntie on her birthday and Christmas always gave her a few new bags made from the old silk.

“How gay and pretty they were and how Melly loved them.

“Now one evening Melly had gone to sleep and the bags were talking.

“‘Ah,’ said the bag of pale blue, ‘I’m but a baby. I am only a few years old.’

“‘And I’m very old,’ said a little plaid bag. ‘I belonged to her grandmother!’

“‘Well,’ said a purple bag, ‘it does seem funny to see the world again. It’s nice to be young once more. Why, I was getting so used to the darkness of the piece box that I blinked, actually blinked—at least as much as a bag can blink—when I first got out again.’

“‘And isn’t it fun,’ said the green bag, ‘to see so many things? I went on a picnic yesterday, and a piece of bacon got into me in some way or other, a nice little crumby piece. Well, I did feel funny. I felt like a person having breakfast. I must say I didn’t eat it up—I’m not fond of eating—mostly because I’m without a mouth and a stomach, but it is fun to go to so many different places and to see what is going on in different places.’

“‘I’m so glad I was made,’ said the rose bag. ‘I’m going to a dancing party this afternoon. They’ll have ice-cream there and I’ll hear all the children play and laugh and I’ll hear them say, “Oh, Melly, which bag have you got with you to-day?” And then I will be shown.’

“‘We’re the lucky little pieces of silk who are seeing the world for a second time,’ ended the yellow bag.”

JUNE 21: A Spider’s Curiosity

“They may not think the spider is a curious creature, though again they may think so,” said Mr. Spider, “for I am sure I cannot keep track of what they think.

“But last summer I was attracted to a house which looked rather cool and comfortable and as though the people who lived in it had gone away and left the blinds down.

“Now when I say I was attracted to the house I mean that the house looked attractive to me and so I went there. I went in first through a crack under the door. I looked about me when I got inside and I thought to myself: ‘Dear me, I have the whole place to myself.’ But I found that a number of spider friends and cousins had come to the house too.

“‘Well,’ they said, upon seeing me, ‘have you come to this hotel to board? It’s really quite good. Meals are fine. We’ve found a number of delicious little creatures to nibble at.’

“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ve come to this hotel to board, but I won’t pay my board.’

“‘Oh, won’t you?’ said they.

“‘I will not,’ I answered. ‘I do not pay board. It’s a foolish thing to do, a waste of time, and besides I haven’t the money. I wouldn’t pay board for anything, for it spoils people.’

“Yes, they think they can do anything when they charge board. They can be rude and only give you so much of this and so much of that, and they have to watch over you to see that you don’t eat more than you are allowed. At least that is my idea of boarding, though I suppose for those who have plenty of money it is all right.

“But I have no money, none at all.”

“Neither have I,” said the spider who was listening.

“Therefore I cannot board,” said Mr. Spider.

“Well, as I was saying, my relatives and friends talked to me and when I said that I wouldn’t pay my board they said: ‘Oh, that is quite all right, Mr. Spider. None of us do. Besides, we feel sure the people who have gone away will be glad if they hear that some of the Spider family are watching over their house in their absence.’

“So I settled down, but after a time I began to feel as though I would like to be busy. Every one around me was working.

“And one day one of the other spiders said to me: ‘Mr. Spider, did you bring your work?’

“‘Yes indeed,’ I answered, ‘I have it here with me.’

“Then, of course, I thought I would choose a good spinning table or spinning chair, or some place where I would be comfortable and cozy a-spinning.

“Just as I was thinking about it I happened to take a look at a telephone upon a table.

“‘There will I go,’ I said to the others.

“‘But,’ they told me, ‘the telephone is a modern thing and spinning is an old, old thing to do.’

“‘Well,’ I answered, ‘I will mix the old and the new, I will work around the modern telephone. I will spin a web so when the people come back they will have to talk through Spiderland in order to talk to their friends.’”

JUNE 22: The Sun Dial

“I follow you so that people can tell the time by me,” said the sun-dial. “And how am I able to tell time for them? All owing to you. I depend upon you to help me tell the time, for you cast your shadow over me, and people know just the hour of the day it is. There is the sun-flower which is named after you,” continued the sun-dial. “It is so called because it is so bright and golden and it is big too!”

“That is so,” said the sun. “I am very fond of the sun-flower.”

“And think of all the flowers, like the marigold and the morning-glories, which open when you arise, and go to sleep, closing their eyes, when you go to bed.

“Then there is the sunfish, so named because he is round and fat and supposed to be slightly like the sun in shape.”

“I had never heard the reason for his name before,” said Mr. Sun. “Thanks for telling me.”

The sun-dial moved a little and so did Mr. Sun, for the time was going on.

“Then there is the sun-gem,” continued the sun-dial. “He is the humming-bird, you know, and he has such glorious bright colors that they have named him after you.”

“I never knew that before,” said Mr. Sun. “How very interesting. Pray go on.”

“There are the sun opals—beautiful stones—and sun perch—like the sunfish family. There are sun plants and sun ferns.”

“Indeed,” beamed the sun.

“And there are sun shades,” continued the sun-dial.

“Oh dear,” said the sun, “people use those to keep me out of their eyes, don’t they?”

“Yes, that is so,” said the sun-dial. “Dear me, I didn’t mean to say anything about sun-shades. And there is sun fever and sun stroke.”

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” said the sun, growing very red and angry. “They are horrible things people get when their heads ache and they feel quite miserable.”

The sun was very red and very mad now, and the sun-dial knew it had said too much. “I am so sorry,” said the sun-dial. “I grew a little careless in what I was saying.”

“Yes, you did,” agreed the sun. “But no matter; I shall sleep and forget about it now.”

And the big red sun went to bed behind the hill and the sun-dial said to itself it would never make such mistakes again!

JUNE 23: Shoes and Stockings

“It seems so funny,” said Mrs. Cow. “Really, the fuss that children make about going around without any shoes or stockings.

“I don’t mean they make a fuss about going without. Gracious, no, they love not to wear shoes and stockings.

“It’s very funny, though, the way they think it is such a treat to go without.

“Now, we never wear shoes and stockings. We think that would be ridiculous.

“We would never say to our mothers, ‘Oh, mother, can’t I please go without any shoes or stockings all afternoon?’

“No young cow or calf would say such a thing. But children are always asking if they can’t go without as a great treat. How funny they really are!”

JUNE 24: Mosquitoes and Snails

“Well, are you here again?” said the Snails to the Mosquitoes.

“We are indeed,” buzzed the Mosquitoes. “But you don’t say that as if you were pleased. In fact, we don’t like your manner at all. We think a little nip and a wee bite might help you. It might make you more polite.”

“Ah, there you are wrong,” said the Snails. “To be sure, our manner was not so very polite. But we don’t feel so polite toward your family. And as for teaching us manners with the aid of a little nip and a wee bite—well, that is absurd, as we have shells and we can go right back into them. We may be slow, but we can get into our shells quickly enough.”

“Yes, cowards,” hissed the Mosquitoes.

“Not at all,” said the Snails. “It’s not cowardly to avoid being bitten. It wouldn’t help any one if we were bitten. There would be no good done because of it. We simply do not wish to be bitten and give you a chance to say:

“‘We bit the Snails to-day. That was part of our pleasure.’ For it is a pleasure to you to bite, and we don’t intend to help along such selfish, mean, cross creatures.”

“Then why are you talking to us?” asked the Mosquitoes.

“Because,” said the Snails, “you have just missed a picnic party that went by here a little time ago. A nice picnic party of children. We won’t tell you where they went—no, indeed. And you’ve lost them now. We only talked to you because we wanted you to miss one horrid adventure. We wouldn’t have wasted our time otherwise. And we talked slowly to give the children more time.” The Snails wiggled and squirmed a little. They were very much pleased with themselves.

But, oh, how mad the mosquitoes were! They buzzed and sang their ugly little songs. They tried to bite the snails, but they had gone inside their shells.

They were so furious that they had wasted all that time. But the snails were happy! They knew that the children were far away by this time, and they had been saved from having the horrid, uninvited mosquitoes go along, too.

As the mosquitoes flew away they said: “Never again will we talk to those slow snails. They make us lose time.”

And the Snails were delighted that their slowness had helped.

JUNE 25: The Rose-Breasted Grosbeak

“The rose-breasted grosbeak,” said daddy, “is a very useful bird, and at the same time an extremely beautiful bird.

“Mr. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak wears black and white, with a handsome vest of rose color and under his wings he has the same decoration. Mrs. Grosbeak is not so handsome. She wears a brown frock, and looks not unlike her cousin, Mrs. Sparrow.

“They have some fine relations, too—there are Mr. and Mrs. Blue Grosbeak, and there again Mr. Grosbeak is very beautiful. He wears a deep blue suit and his shoulders are trimmed with chestnut-colored feathers. Mrs. Grosbeak is of grayish brown and grayish white, having the top side of the first color, and the bottom side of the second color.

“Then there are the Evening Grosbeak family. Mrs. Evening Grosbeak is paler than her husband but their coloring is not so different from each other as in the other members of the Grosbeak family. The Evening Grosbeaks are of brown and yellow with touches of very dark brown and white-tipped wings.

“And we mustn’t forget the Pine Grosbeak family. Mr. Pine Grosbeak is of a wonderful shade of red, while Mrs. Grosbeak is yellow and gray in her coloring.

“The Pine Grosbeaks are fond of the winter; they are not afraid of the cold. In fact, they are not afraid of anything and they trust people and let them come close to them. They have low, warbling voices and whistle in a beautiful, clear fashion.

“The Evening Grosbeaks have very large bills and eat many seeds, berries and insects, as you may imagine. But they can sing and whistle, too.

“The Blue Grosbeak family sing, too, in a nice warbling fashion of their own, which is a little like the song Mr. Indigo Bunting sings, but Mr. Grosbeak’s is a little stronger and louder—a little more of a song. They probably like to sing songs that are somewhat the same, as they are both blue birds and so have the same taste in color and in music.

“But it is of Mr. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak that I want to tell you, for he is not only beautiful, but, as I said, he is very useful.

“And he can sing, too! Oh, how Mr. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak can sing! He chirps in low, deep and lovely tones and he sings from morning to night in the most glorious manner.

“But he does a great deal else beside singing. He helps the farmer and the owner of the orchard.

“‘Yes,’ said a Mr. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak to his mate, many, many years ago, ‘I am not going to be satisfied just to be beautiful and to have a nice voice.’

“‘What is it you want to do?’ asked Mrs. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.

“‘I will have to think about it a little,’ he answered. And then after he had thought a time he said,

“‘I have it.’

“‘Tell me,’ chirped Mrs. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.

“‘We will help the farmer and the owner of the orchard. We will destroy bad bugs and insects which would hurt the crop. We can easily change our diet so that these things will taste delicious to us. And we will be doing some good work, too. It’s horrible to be lazy and beautiful and rich and superior. It’s much more interesting to be busy and see things finished that we’ve done ourselves.’

“Mrs. Rose-Breasted Grosbeak agreed, and thought they would enjoy life a great deal more by being busy.

“‘It would be so tiresome,’ Mrs. Grosbeak told her mate some time after this, ‘if we did nothing all day but sing. Why, we’d have nothing to sing about after a time, no joyous news to tell the world!’

“And so from that day to this, the Rose-Breasted Grosbeak family have been a great help. They eat caterpillars which would destroy trees, many moths, bugs, worms, and insects which would hurt growing vegetables and trees bearing fruits.

“They eat cucumber beetles, too, but mostly they eat potato-bugs. And so they are a great, great help, and are often called ‘Those dear little Grosbeak birds!’”

JUNE 26: The Goldfishes

“I am pretty mad,” said one of the goldfishes in the bowl, whose name was Mr. Tokio Jones.

“I’m mad, too,” said Mr. Pekin Baxter, the other goldfish.

“That little girl said, you remember,” continued Mr. Pekin Baxter, “‘Oh, look at the wings on the fishes.’ Such ignorance! Of course, she meant fins, but it made me pretty mad to think there was a person who knew so little about fishes.”

“And what made me mad was when her playmate said to her: ‘Why, Marion, those aren’t wings, those are fins,’ and Marion said: ‘Well, what is the difference which I say, wings or fins?’

“That certainly made me mad.”

“It did me,” said Mr. Tokio Jones, “but let’s not excite ourselves any more; let’s be like the lazy snails, who are really sensible not to get angry, for it does no good at all.”

JUNE 27: The Pigeons’ Bath

“Now the four pigeons I want to tell you about were a daddy and mother pigeon, and their little pigeon children whose names were Peter Pigeon and Polly Pigeon,” said daddy. “And I saw them to-day.

“‘Polly,’ said her mother, ‘be sure you wet your feathers. Now a good shake! There, that’s the way!’ And then the mother pigeon would give herself a good shaking in the water to explain.

“And Daddy Pigeon was saying to Peter, ‘There, Peter! That’s the way. Don’t be afraid of the water. A bath will do you good. And the day is warm, the sun is shining, and we’ll get good and warm after this. Our feathers will be warm in no time!’

“Now, Peter and Polly Pigeon were being told just how to bathe in the best way by their fond parents. But it was not hard for them to learn. They had lots of fun spattering each other, and they played all sorts of games. And after they were really through bathing and had shaken their feathers they began to get dry in the hot sun.

“Polly and Peter Pigeon were quite sleepy, after their playing, bathing, splashing and spattering, and they began to coo very softly before going to sleep. But as they were just dozing off Mother Pigeon said:

“‘If we’re all good pigeons, the Fairy Queen, who looks after pigeons, too, will come and whisper in the ears of children to give us bread crumbs. She will tell them that in the hot days of summer we like little cooling drinks which they can put in pans and saucers around their yards and on their porches. Yes, the Fairy Queen will tell them all that, if we’re good pigeons.’

“Of course Polly and Peter made up their minds they would be very good indeed so as to receive the rewards about which the Fairy Queen would whisper to the children. And in case she hasn’t already told you I want to let you know that it will make her happy to think of children all over the world, when the warm weather comes, thinking of the little creatures who can’t turn on the faucet and get a good cool drink of water, but who must wait for the rain or kind people.”

JUNE 28: The Man in the Moon’s Party

“It had been the first hot day. Even the sun felt tired. That may sound very strange, to think of the sun feeling tired,” said daddy. “But still can’t you imagine that on the first hot day that comes, when the sun has been shining with all his might and main he gets a little bit tired and is glad when it is time to go to bed? Many strong people may get tired at night.

“As the sun went to bed, the moon began to peep up and laugh. He grinned from ear to ear, for he said to himself:

“‘To-night I really will be appreciated, for the sun has overworked to-day and no one ever gets any thanks for overworking. It is as bad as not working enough.’

[Illustration: “THE FAIRY QUEEN WAS DRESSED IN GLITTERING GOLD.”—_Page 155_]

“Of course, the moon was the very sort to talk that way. For, can you imagine that jolly old man whom you see grinning at you so often as ever really working very hard?

“Just then the moon began sending out his invitations for a party.

“He sent them in this way: he whispered to the tall pines that he wanted to have a party and to invite all the little fairies. Also he added that they must wear their very best clothes, for when he gave a party he liked to see folks in their party clothes.

“The fairy queen was dressed in glittering gold. She wore a gold crown on her head and carried a gold wand with gold stars glittering from it.

“All the other fairies were dressed in silvery costumes, for the man in the moon is very fond of silver. You will sometimes notice that he puts on a silver robe himself, and he is very friendly with the silver clouds that float in the sky at night.

“They did have the very best time, and they all enjoyed the party so, so much. The man in the moon laughed his head off—at least the fairies were afraid he would—as he said he had never before seen the pine trees behave so like silly little trees, instead of like big, dignified trees they had always prided themselves on being.

“But the pine trees didn’t care, for they were having a beautiful time waving and singing. They sang for lots of the lovely dances the fairies did. As for the fairies, they felt it was a very great honor for them to be given a party by the wonderful old man in the moon, who had such splendid guests as the pine trees!”

JUNE 29: Billy and the Dragon

“Billy was very, very fat, and, oh, so lazy! The reason he was so fat was because he ate everything he wanted. He used to spend every penny he ever got all on himself, and he always bought candy.

“When supper time came he really made himself very sick over jam, for he always persisted in eating loads and loads of jam and would not even spread it on his toast, but would eat it plain out of a spoon.

“One afternoon he went to a party. He was very disagreeable and wouldn’t play any games at all. He simply sat in a corner and waited until supper time came. Then he ate all the ice-cream, all the candy and all the cake that he could get hold of. None of the other children went near him, for they didn’t care about a little boy who only cared about eating all the time.

“That night Billy felt very sick when he went to bed. But he soon fell asleep. In his sleep, though, a great horned dragon appeared and said to him:

“‘Billy, it’s for your sake I’m coming here tonight. We dragons aren’t nearly so dreadful as we’re made out to be. We take a great interest in children, and I am going to take a great interest in you.

“‘Before you made such a little—yes, I must say it—a little piggie-wig of yourself you were a very nice little boy. But now you’re fat and lazy. So every night I shall chase you around in your dreams until you give up eating so much jam and candy and until you once more enjoy playing around with the other little boys and girls.’

“‘Oh, please don’t!’ said Billy, who was terrified.

“‘Yes,’ said the dragon; ‘I’m a good friend of yours, and I shall make you a real boy again. In a few weeks you really won’t know yourself.’

“With that he was gone, but he kept his word, and every night chased Billy around in his dreams until he gave up eating so many sweets and played games and became a real boy again.”

JUNE 30: Cozy Balsam Flowers

“I am sure,” said daddy, “that the scarlet flowers known as the Balsam flowers love the very coziness of a fireplace. For they always thrive better in a room where there is an open fire than they do with Mr. Sun’s rays shining down upon them.

“And perhaps they can read stories in the fireplace. Perhaps they can see fairy-tales being acted in the blue and red and orange flames.

“Anyway, they love the open fires, and so I think we ought to call them the cozy Balsam Flowers!”

JULY 1: A Brother’s Plan

“There was once,” said daddy, “a boy whose name was Worthington, and for short they called him Worthy.

“He had a sister whom he called Mimmie, and it is a story of these two I want to tell you this evening.”

Jack and Evelyn looked very much pleased. They loved to hear about other children, especially of boys and girls about their own ages.

“Worthington was unlike some brothers, but he was like you in this way, Jack; he liked to play with his sister. His sister liked, too, to play with him. He never frightened her, but he showed her how to do things, and she was never afraid when she was with him. In the fall he took her for rides in her express-cart, and he made a high seat in the cart for her when he took her for slower and more stylish rides.

“He taught her to climb trees and to swim and to do tricks on the trapeze. And she, too, used to play in the snowball fights, back in the forts which he and the other boys would make.

“Well, it was summer, and Worthington was not going to school. He thought and he thought and he thought, and finally he said:

“‘I wonder if it couldn’t be done. I will try anyway.’ He worked out the whole scheme in his head, and the next day he went to his aunt who owned a garden, and he said:

“‘Auntie, I have been thinking about something.’

“‘This summer,’ he began, ‘I could hoe the beans in your garden, and I could weed the garden paths. I could water the flowers every night, and do all the weeding, in fact. You wouldn’t need to have a man do the work, except one day a week to do the heavy things. And then I thought I could give Mimmie a present of skates and boots out of my own money in the fall.’ And Auntie engaged him as an assistant gardener then and there.”

JULY 2: The Best Dream

“Some children,” said daddy, “were playing.

“‘Let’s pretend we’re awfully rich,’ said two of the children. ‘We shall have motor-cars and we shall have airplanes to fly in. We shall have quantities of people to give orders to. We’ll never have to tidy our rooms, and we’ll never have to run errands.’ So they began to play.

“Three other children said, ‘Let’s be very famous. We shall have all the people in the world swarm around us as the bees do around the flowers for the honey. They shall say how fine we are, how brave we are, and how noble. They’ll put up monuments to us.’

“And still three other children wanted to play. ‘We want to play that we have a few animals. They are such fun! More fun than anything. And if we treat them right we’ll be loved so much. Yes, we shall play we have two dogs and a little pony.’

“Now the Dream-King was sitting on a throne made of silver threads so beautifully woven that they held together and gave him the most wonderful of thrones. Over his head were little boys and girls flying about, and there were Fairies, Gnomes, Elves, Brownies. And that night the Dream-King sent dreams to these children. They all had their play-games made real in their dreams. The two children who wanted to play they were very rich, dreamed they were rich, but oh, how they hated it! All around them were butlers and servants in wonderful liveries. And they had great motor-cars which were driven by quiet, stiff persons who wouldn’t answer questions. They felt as if they owned absolutely nothing at all, for everything was taken care of by some one else. They weren’t allowed to play and get the least little scrap dirty, for they had to wear such wonderful clothes! Oh, it was a very miserable dream.

“The children who wanted to be very famous dreamed they were surrounded by people who never let them move so they could play. They saw a monument put up in a park with their names written in stone. But the monument was too big to play with.

“The children with the dogs and the pony were having the most gorgeous dream. They were taking such care of their pets and the animals loved them so.

“But at last the Dream-King left them, and they awoke suddenly.

“And one and all agreed that animals and games were fun, but that riches and fame were very, very dull.”

JULY 3: The Hash and the Watermelon

The hash was talking to the watermelon. “I must tell you what the lady of the house said. ‘Well, we’ll have to have some hash, I fear. I know every one will be furious, but still one can’t waste food. And I’ll have watermelon as a great treat for dessert to make up for having hash first.’

“Oh, dear,” said the watermelon, “that was too bad. I should think you would hate me as a result.”

“Well, I don’t,” said the hash, “for I haven’t a jealous disposition. I know that I’ve got to be made and so have the members of my family all over the country, right down through history, I believe, for things must not be wasted. But it doesn’t seem as if I were so dreadful as they make me out to be. I think that if cooks bothered a little bit more about me and put in some nice seasoning people might get so they’d say, ‘Oh, we’re going to have hash to-night; goodie, goodie!’ That would certainly rejoice the family of hash if such a thing ever happened.”

“I do believe some day people will come to see your true worth,” said the watermelon.

“Ah, that’s it,” said the hash. “I have so much true worth and no charm! I wish I had a little charm, so people would relish me and enjoy me. But I do send out an entreaty to cooks to please season us and make us as nice as possible, for hash is getting tired of insults and would like to be liked just for a change.”

JULY 4: Independence Day

“The bird,” said daddy, “which has been chosen as the emblem of this country—the bald eagle—has very wonderful and amazing vision or eye-sight, which seems so particularly splendid.

“And doesn’t it seem fine to think that our national bird is not only so powerful and free and so much a part of the whole country—for his range is not limited to one part—but that he can see so far?

“For when our national bird can see so far surely it must make us try to see far ahead too and to see clearly and to see truly so that we can all do our best to march on along the paths set for us that July 4th, 1776, in Independence Hall, Philadelphia.”

JULY 5: The Sun and the Thunder

“Now Mr. Sun was feeling lazy,” said daddy, “and besides this was his day for playing tag with the King of the Clouds and old King Thunder. For (would you believe it?) Mr. Sun is very fond of a good old-fashioned game of tag once in a while, and he began now trying to catch King Thunder.

“As he did so he got back of one of the clouds and it became quite dark on the earth. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘old King Thunder, come here! Those people down on the earth said they were glad you had stopped making such a noise! I wouldn’t stand it if I were you. Go back and tell them what you think of them! Roar your hardest!’

“And sure enough the Thunder and Rain began again, and the Earth People said: ‘We’re having one of those days when one moment the sun is shining and the next it is thundering and raining.’”

JULY 6: The True Story of a Dog

The Fourth of July had passed and Jack and Evelyn were still very tired, but daddy had a story to tell them, a really true story, and, of course, they were very eager to hear it.

“There was a dog once named Dash. He was an Irish setter, and he belonged to an army family. His master was a young lieutenant in the army, and his master’s father was a general.

“Now, this dog was quite old, but he had led an active life which had agreed with him splendidly, and he didn’t behave as if he were old at all. There were several young children in the family, and he was made a great pet. What he liked above everything was the sound of guns.

“He had been to numerous army posts, and each one seemed to him to be quite perfect, especially on the days of target practise or when the salutes were fired.

“But, alas, one summer the family went to live in a stupid, quiet little village, where there was absolutely no life at all.

“Dash seemed to be pining away in the village. Quiet country life didn’t agree with this dog of the army. The family thought that maybe Dash was going to die of old age until one day came—the day of joy to so many thousands of people! And it was the day for Dash. ‘Could it be true?’ he thought to himself when he first heard the sound of a huge dynamite cracker. Then came another. With a bound Dash was out of his corner, wide awake and barking furiously. There was no more sleep for that household that night, but little did they care, for all wished to enter into the celebration.

“Late in the day the young lieutenant said to a friend of his: ‘Let’s go off to the river. I have several cannon fire-crackers to send off. I didn’t dare to fire them to-day, as I was afraid they might break the windows. But we can throw them over the bridge. Dash has gone to have his supper and is somewhat calmed down.’

“So off they started for the river, and over the bridge they threw a lighted cannon cracker. Just before it landed in the water off it went with a terrific report.

“They had lighted the other and thrown it into the water when Dash went bounding into the river, swimming toward the awful firecracker. These crackers had been recommended as ‘sure to go off,’ and there was the beloved Dash going for it.

“But the firecracker did not go off! Dash sniffed at it disgustedly, while his master breathed the biggest sigh of relief and thanks of his life.”

JULY 7: The Rabbit Named Pigeon

“Why, what is the trouble, Mrs. Pouter Pigeon?” said Mother Rabbit.

“Oh,” sobbed Mrs. Pouter Pigeon, “I have fallen and hurt myself terribly! I won’t be able to get out of reach of bigger animals who may want to eat me up, and I don’t want to be eaten up.”

At that she burst into more sobs.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” said Mother Rabbit, “I don’t believe there is a creature living who wants to be eaten up. But you come and live with us, and I will see that you are protected.”

So Mrs. Pouter Pigeon went to live with Mother Rabbit. They became very friendly and attached to one another.

And then when the next little bunny rabbit was born his mother said, “Now I shall name him Pigeon after you, Mrs. Pouter Pigeon.”

And Mrs. Pouter Pigeon strutted about and said, “You have not only saved my life by having me come and live with you, but now you are paying me a fine compliment.”

JULY 8: The Big Tent

“This story,” said daddy, “is to be about Peter Gnome’s circus.

“‘This way to the Big Tent! This way to the Big Tent!’ he called. Over and over again he kept saying it until finally he had enough little creatures following him to fill as big a Tent as ever you’ve seen.

“At last he stopped, and there every one saw an enormous tent made out of birch bark and moss. Inside there were seats made of old trees, and there were also Reserved Seats of old pieces of trees covered with moss. Most of the Fairies took Reserved Seats.

“And there were poles to keep the tent up. Some of the Spiders and Caterpillars who had followed along climbed up the poles. For they said they might miss a great many sights if they stayed on the ground, but if they were high up they would see everything that was going on.

“Then the circus began. And such a circus as it was. The Gnomes had certainly practised some very fine tricks, and the way they dashed about the ring in the center of the tent, and the way they turned somersaults and did tricks, made the Brownies and Elves and Fairies delighted beyond words that they had been invited.

“But when all the tricks were over, and all the little creatures thought it was time to leave, out came Peter Gnome and stood on the platform made of a toadstool in the center of the ring.

“‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ said Peter Gnome—for he had heard that was what they were called in the real circus tents—‘I want to take up a few minutes of your time.’

“‘It’s not our time any more than any one else’s,’ interrupted one of the Snails who had come in late.

“‘Well,’ continued Peter Gnome, ‘for a little while I wish to talk to you. And this is what I want to say. After this circus there will be a concert—one of the finest concerts ever heard. And in addition to that there will be a Side Show where will be seen the Bearded Lady and the Tallest Man living. All keep your seats and one of the Gnomes will be around to collect from you the extra payment of two stems of grass.’

“All of the Fairies and the rest of the audience laughed when Peter Gnome said that. For well they knew he didn’t want any payment for the concert and Side Show, but that he thought it would be so much more fun to have a Gnome go around and make believe to collect it.”

“Who was the tallest man?” asked Jack.

“Old Mr. Giant,” said daddy. “He had been made to come just this once, and he did enjoy being made such a fuss of. The only thing he didn’t like so much was when some of the Spiders crawled up his great long legs and tickled him a little. But soon they stopped when they saw he didn’t like it and began weaving webs instead.

“‘All right,’ said Mr. Giant. ‘Make all the homes you like. I’ll carry you to my Cave when I go, and you can have your homes there.’ The Spiders, of course, were delighted.

“And the Bearded Lady turned out to be none other than Peter Gnome himself—dressed in a fine gown of oak leaves and wearing over his face a mask made out of the roots of trees!”

JULY 9: Mrs. Hippopotamus

“Ladies,” said Mrs. Hippopotamus, “are often very vain. They care about their figures and about their looks and about their hats and about their shoes. They care about their dresses and they care about the styles, while I, the fine Mrs. Hippopotamus, am above such things.

“I do not care if my legs are short and my body enormous and all out of proportion to my legs.

“I do not care if my mouth is like a cavern—it is so large. I do not mind it that my skin is so queer, of a funny dark brown color with all sorts of little holes and marks and such all over me.

“I have horribly oily stuff over me too, but I do not mind. What is more, there is great sense to that. That keeps me from getting ill when I go about rivers in Africa where there are all kinds of fevers and much sickness.

“I have great teeth, teeth such as no lady would like, I’m sure. They like little white even teeth, silly little things.

[Illustration: “‘YOU ARE PAYING ME A FINE COMPLIMENT’”—_Page 161_]

“I’m above such things. I’m not ashamed of my teeth. I like them. They’re good sensible, strong teeth. And I’m not going to worry because they’re irregular. I’m not so vain as to long for regular teeth.

“My teeth and tusks can act like scissors for they’re shaped so as to act that way. That’s better than having white even teeth.

“I live in the water and there I go and look for my food. I don’t go into silly shops and to market as ladies do.

“But there is just one thing I feel in sympathy with ladies about—at least all ladies who are loving mothers—I can understand what it means to have a baby look at its mother out of its lovely baby eyes which are as beautiful as anything in the world. And I can see its love for its mother, and oh, my whole heart goes out with love for it.

“Yes, sometimes when you see the great old ugly hippopotamus you must not only think of the ugliness but you must say, ‘Back of that thick hide, behind that awful jaw and those hideous features, deep down in the heart of a mother hippopotamus there is love and devotion and the beautiful joy of giving of that love to one’s own baby.’

“For a baby hippopotamus is a baby to be loved by a mother hippopotamus.”

JULY 10: The Papoose

“IN a quaint old city,” said daddy, “Indians come into town every Saturday morning with bright-colored baskets and beaded moccasins. They make these things and they make beaded bags and purses and little ornaments.

“They drive oxen instead of horses and the oxen move as slowly as if they did not care in the least if they ever got anywhere at all!

“The Indian women, or squaws as they are called, carry large baskets upon their heads in which are the things they have to sell, smaller baskets, purses and moccasins.

“Sometimes, too, they bring into the town flowers in the summer and in the autumn red berries—for they have a little village of their own out in the country. They are not wild at all and they would not dream of hurting any one.

“One day a little girl named Olive was sitting in her room reading when she heard the front door bell ring. She went downstairs and there was a little Indian girl, not any older than herself.

“‘Will the beautiful lady buy pretty basket?’ asked the little Indian girl.

“Olive was so pleased! She was not nearly big enough to be called ‘lady,’ for she was still very young, and she knew quite well that she was not beautiful at all. She had freckles and a very big mouth, and she had only a little hair which was quite straight. And she was tall for her age and much too thin. But she had never been called beautiful before and though she knew the little Indian girl was quite wrong, still she was delighted.

“‘You are beautiful yourself,’ said Olive. For the Indian girl had long black hair and enormous dark eyes, wonderful dark skin with quite a good deal of color.

“‘Me beautiful?’ she asked. ‘Oh no, me not beautiful at all.’

“They each thought the other beautiful because each was so different.

“Olive bought some baskets for her mother and a little beaded purse for herself and then she said to the little Indian girl:

“‘Won’t you have some cocoa with me?’ The little Indian girl nodded her head and said: ‘Me like goodies!’

“So Olive and the little Indian girl went into Olive’s room and had a fine feast, using blue cups and saucers and eating bread and butter from little blue plates.

“‘Me tell you story?’ asked the little Indian girl. Olive was delighted.

“‘Please,’ she said. And the little Indian girl began:

“‘My brudder, he very big man. He tall and strong and plenty muscle he has.’ She bent her arms to show what she meant by muscle and she stood up with her arms above her to show how tall he was. ‘He build a boat,’ she went on, ‘a red boat—a canoe—and he take it along water so it never make a sound. He know how to paddle so! Never a sound!

“‘We have a river by our hut and he keep the boat by the bank, tied to an old tree. He take us all out in it, but what do you suppose he call that boat?’

“Olive couldn’t guess. She tried many names she thought the boat might be called, but they were all wrong. ‘Tell me,’ she begged.

“‘My brudder, he not call his boat after great strong man, or after warrior or hero; no, he call boat after our little baby brudder—what mudder call the little wee one. He call his boat the Papoose which mean an Indian baby—and he mean our baby. His boat which can go out into the big waves and not upset—which is so strong, like my brudder—it is named the Papoose after the baby!’ Her eyes were dancing with joy but it was time for her to be off.

“She put her basket on top of her head and started off. ‘Will your fadder bring you to see the big Papoose and the little Papoose?’ she asked as she left, and to Olive’s great delight her mother called out:

“‘We will take you some time.’ And both little girls left each other smiling and happy.”

JULY 11: A Feast for the Mice

“I am going to tell you about Mr. Gray Mouse’s feast,” said daddy. “There were biscuits of all sorts and soft cream cheese—such cheese as mice had never had before. Their mouths and paws were covered with it, and one of the little children mice said:

“‘Let’s not wipe off our whiskers. We can do that later on when we may be getting hungry again—perhaps after we’re in bed.’ So all the children mice had very sticky mouths and whiskers. But the big mice said:

“‘Let the children have a good time, for this is a real party.’ And Mr. Gray Mouse was very much pleased that all his guests were having such a good time.

“When the party was over and it was time to go home, Mr. LongTail Mouse said: ‘I’m getting tired of our present home. Let’s all have a change. I have been looking at new homes for a little time to be ready in case we ever wanted to move, and I know of a fine one.’

“‘Let’s go,’ said Grandpa Gray Mouse. ‘I never believe in living in one home too long. That’s why I’m such an old mouse, and have lived so much longer than most. I keep changing homes—and I fool the cats!’

“So all the mice went to a new home—for they knew in a short time after the feast they had just had that a cat would be invited to the house to live!”

JULY 12: Knowing How to Swim

“In a shallow river was a deep hole,” said daddy. “Two little girls were wading in the shallow part. Only one of them could swim, and swimming I think is not only good fun but is something every one should be able to do. Alas, the little girl who could not swim slipped on a stone and fell into the deep water. And had it not been for the one who could swim a little girl would have lost her life.”

JULY 13: Flower Dreams

“The Fairy Queen,” said daddy, “gives sweet dreams to all the flowers. It is part of her work. That is why the flowers are happy and rested and beautiful everywhere. Even out on country roads where there is dust, hard ground and rough places, lovely flowers grow up and are proud and happy as they hear people going by in their automobiles or carriages or walking, exclaiming how wonderful they are.

“Now and again, some little flower turns to one side in the wrong way and it has a bad dream, and then when it wakes up it is not lovely like its brothers or sisters. But that seldom happens. And so, you see, flowers know about sweet dreams—all owing to the Fairy Queen.”

JULY 14: The Naughty Breezes

“One day old Mr. North Wind had been very busy,” commenced daddy. “He had told the Breeze Children that they must be very good because he had so much work to do.

“‘What have you to do?’ they asked him.

“‘I have to go to the woods and knock down all the old branches so they won’t fall on people’s heads! I must attend to many things.’

“Now the Breeze Children were very apt to be naughty. ‘Let’s do some work too,’ they said.

“‘What shall we do?’ one of them asked.

“‘Well, let’s blow about a little and find something.’

“Pretty soon they passed by a window of an office. There were a great many papers lying about on the desks and as one of the little Breeze Children said:

“‘There doesn’t seem to be much to do here,’ the papers began to blow this way and that.

“‘Oh, let’s blow papers,’ they shouted as they saw what had happened. And all that day they went about from window to window blowing all the papers they could find. Such a time they had!

“That is why there are paper weights—all because of the Breeze Children who are almost too fond of fun.”

JULY 15: The Coral Families

“Why aren’t we called coral insects any more, mother?” asked the small coral polyp. Coral is a hard substance used for jewelry and ornaments, you know.

“Because, my dear,” said the mother, “you are a kind of animal, and not insect. It is incorrect to call you an insect, just as it would be wrong to call me one.”

“But somehow,” said the coral polyp, “I would rather be called an insect than a polyp. A polyp doesn’t seem to mean much.”

“It means what you are,” said his mother. “But perhaps that doesn’t mean much. We aren’t big enough to think of what we are called. We just belong to a big group and you and I have grown friendly. That is why you call me mother polyp. But maybe I am your mother polyp after all. It really is too much trouble to think about. We have beautiful homes and so have all the members of our family. Just think, we have an island named after our homes. It is called Coral Island.

“Oh, I do feel so sorry for those who live in wooden houses and in brick houses. How ugly their homes are. Think of wood and brick compared to coral. Now we live and get all our support from our coral homes. And think how wonderful they are? Some are of red coral and some of pink, but all are beautiful.

“Yes, the more I think of it, the more I’m sorry for the creatures who live in houses of wood or brick, ground holes or rough nests.

“Besides, it is so much finer to have a home on the water—a coast home is far nicer than an inland home.”

“Well, I suppose,” said the young polyp, “that it all depends on how one looks at it.”

“I look at it from the standpoint of a polyp,” said the mother polyp proudly.

“To be sure we are wonderful to have such homes,” said the young polyp. “And still finer than that is the fact that we have a shoemaker in the family.”

“What?” asked mother polyp.

“To be sure,” said the young polyp. “There is the coral shoemaker, and he is a relation.”

“That’s so, that’s so,” said the mother polyp. “But of course we don’t wear shoes, and so he isn’t of much use.”

“That’s true,” said the young polyp, “but it is always useful to have one in the family. And it sounds so businesslike to speak of Cousin Coral Shoemaker.”

For there is a little creature with just that name and he is a cousin of our friends who live in the coral reefs.

And no wonder the coral families boast and brag of the homes they live in, for very few of us could even dream of living in a jeweled home. But after all, for people and animals a coral reef would be very uncomfortable, and besides people and animals have so very much more sense!

JULY 16: The Garden Tools

“It’s great fun to be a rake,” said the rake, “and to make everything look nice and tidy. And in the autumn it is such fun raking up all the leaves and getting ready for the big bonfires.

“It is fun, too, to rake the freshly mown grass and to make everything smooth and nice.”

“Ah, but it is such fun to be a trowel,” said the trowel, “and to dig around the garden flowers and to make them grow. They like to be made all nice and comfy, to have the dirt loosened about them to give them a little breathing space.

“They don’t like too much! They want to be held in the earth firmly but with soft, nicely pressed earth about them. And our family attends to that.”

“Ah, but it is nice to be a hoe,” said the hoe, “for I can do such a great deal of work. Just take the work I do with string-beans alone.

“I don’t suppose there could be any string-beans if it weren’t for me. I do such a great deal with the string-beans. I keep them cheerful. I pay them some attention. I make them feel like growing up into nice vegetables. I hoe all about them.”

“But think of all the help I am when any one wants to transplant anything,” said the trowel. “I can dig up the root so that plenty of its dirt comes up with it. Plants don’t like to leave all their soil behind; they like to take a little of it along with them, just as people do when they’re going away for the summer—they like to take along with them some of their photographs and little odds and ends, some of the things near and dear to them.”

“It is the same way with the plants and I help to make that possible.”

“Well,” said the lawn-mower, “I like to make the lawn and the terraces look nice and I do make them look so neat. I’m the lawn’s barber, I am!”

All the other garden tools moved about and laughed in their funny tool way at the joke the lawn-mower had tried to crack.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” they said.

“And a garden fork like me,” said the garden fork, “can do a good deal of work too. I like to do my share.”

“We can do a good deal,” said several balls of string. “We keep things from falling down and we give them a little help and encouragement.”

“So do we,” said some little sticks up which some plants were climbing.

“We try to do our part,” said a little two-pronged fork and a shovel together.

A two-pronged fork is a fork with two prongs instead of three or four as a fork usually has, you will notice.

“But I feel as if I were a great deal of help these days,” said the hoe, “just when those string-beans need so much attention.”

“And I must thin out some of the flowers,” said the trowel. “Some of them are growing so closely together that they won’t live that way and so I am going to separate them and put them in other beds.”

“And you will need my help, too,” said the watering pot, “not to mention the water!”

“That is so,” said the trowel. “But I have a great deal of important weeding to do.”

“And I will have to rake up the weeds that you have dug up in the garden path,” said the rake, “or things won’t look tidy and neat.”

“And I must water all the flowers for there hasn’t been any rain in some time and it’s up to me to do a great deal of work,” said the watering pot.

“I really think,” said the rake, “that we are all useful. We all help the one who owns the garden. Yes, every one of us helps.

“We must all work, each do his part, for each one is needed for something or other.”

“You’re right,” said the hoe; “none of us should boast alone. We should all work together for the good of the garden and for the good of the flowers. Then we will each be doing more, for when creatures and things work together and don’t waste time boasting and arguing then a lot gets finished.”

JULY 17: The Jolly Dust Brothers

“All the dust in the world belongs to the Family of the Dust Brothers—just as every little Toad or Frog belongs to the Toad or Frog family,” said daddy. “One day not long ago, a group of the Dust Brothers had moved to all the window sills in a little house they thought was very nice. Some of them had chosen to hide behind pictures, and under chairs, and on the glass mirrors. The ones who hid on the glass mirrors thought they would have lots of fun because folks could not see themselves so plainly—and then they would see the new-comers to the mirrors. Not, of course, that it was the first time any of them had ever made mirrors their homes—but they hadn’t been back since the last dusting day.

“The best friend of the Dust Brothers when they are wide awake is old Mr. Sun. Then they can all be seen by the lady of the house and what fun it is for them to be scolded at and to dash off again—only to come back whenever they feel like it.

“When they have moved to a new home and are tired and sleepy the dark clouds are their friends, and Mr. Rain; for then it is so dark they can’t be seen and they have a good old sleep.

“But yesterday when the Dust Brothers were having such a frolic it was a beautiful day. Mr. Sun had just decided it was getting up time—and he had dressed slowly and with great care so he would look very fine and stylish.

“As he was ready to peep in the windows to see what was going on he saw a lot of little Gnomes perched all around talking to the Dust Brothers.

“‘Why is it,’ asked Peter Gnome, ‘that you are so anxious to live where you know you’ll be sent away again? Why don’t you choose some home where you can stay?’

“‘Oh, Peter,’ they cried in shocked whispers, ‘you don’t understand us. You truly don’t.’ And if they could have cried without drowning themselves I am sure they would have—for they sounded very sad for a minute. But then they became happy again for they explained it all to Peter Gnome.

“‘You see,’ they continued, ‘if we live somewhere and are not driven away too many of the Family come to join us—and it’s more fun to have lots and lots of homes than a few big ones for all of us. It would make us have a life like a hotel—ah no, we must have a home life—just a few of us living together at a time. Of course, we don’t take up much room, so more of us can live together than most folks.

“‘And as for wanting to have our adventures any different—dear me—we wouldn’t change for all the world. We can tease and tease and tease those big grown-ups with their brooms and dusters. Hurrah, hurrah, what merry lives we lead.

“‘And now, Mr. Sun,’ they said, ‘shine for all you’re worth—so the grown-ups will see us. Then we’ll be off for a scamper.’

“Sure enough, Mr. Sun did just as the Dust Brothers had asked him to, and as the Gnomes were rushing off to call on their old friend Mr. Giant, they heard the Dust Brothers laughing and saying,

“‘They drive us away, but we always come back, We say Hurrah, but they say Alack!’”

JULY 18: The Bad Poison Ivy

“The little white berries of Poison Ivy,” said daddy, “are clustered quite near together on the stem, that is, they are all near each other, and then from the little part of the stem which is the fattest goes up a longer, slimmer stem from which branch out three leaves, all of them pointed somewhat and very clearly and evenly marked with veins.

“Now, sometimes Poison Ivy is to be found in swamps and in ponds and along the sides of the brooks and in the woods, too.

“Keep away from it and from what you think is Poison Ivy.

“A very good way to do each summer is to go to a library and get hold of a big nature book or ask the librarian what