{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_40682/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_40682","id":"gutenberg_40682","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40682","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Cover]\n\n\n\n                            LULU'S LIBRARY.\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                           LOUISA M. ALCOTT,\n\n\n    AUTHOR OF \"LITTLE WOMEN,\" \"AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL,\" \"LITTLE MEN,\"\n         \"EIGHT COUSINS,\" \"ROSE IN BLOOM,\" \"UNDER THE LILACS,\"\n             \"JACK AND JILL,\" \"HOSPITAL SKETCHES,\" \"WORK, A\n                STORY OF EXPERIENCE,\" \"MOODS, A NOVEL,\"\n                 \"PROVERB STORIES,\" \"SILVER PITCHERS,\"\n                         \"AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.\"\n\n\n\n                                VOL. I.\n\n                           A CHRISTMAS DREAM.\n                           THE CANDY COUNTRY.\n                             NAUGHTY JOCKO.\n                          THE SKIPPING SHOES.\n                               COCKYLOO.\n                            ROSY'S JOURNEY.\n                           HOW THEY RAN AWAY.\n                             THE FAIRY BOX.\n                          A HOLE IN THE WALL.\n                            THE PIGGY GIRL.\n                            THE THREE FROGS.\n                               BAA!  BAA!\n\n\n\n                                BOSTON:\n                           ROBERTS BROTHERS.\n                                 1886.\n\n\n\n\n                           _Copyright, 1885,_\n                          BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.\n\n\n\n                           University Press:\n                    JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.\n\n\n\n\n                                PREFACE.\n\n\nAll but three of these stories were told to my little niece during our\nquiet hour before bedtime.  They became such favorites with her and her\nfriends that I wrote them down in several small blue books, and called\nthem LULU'S LIBRARY.  Having nothing else to offer this year, I have\ncollected them in one volume as a Christmas gift to my boys and girls\nfrom their old friend\n\nAUNT JO.\nCONCORD, August, 1885.\n\n\n\n\n                               CONTENTS.\n\n      I. A Christmas Dream\n     II. The Candy Country\n    III. Naughty Jocko\n     IV. The Skipping Shoes\n      V. Cockyloo\n     VI. Rosy's Journey\n    VII. How They Ran Away\n   VIII. The Fairy Box\n     IX. A Hole in the Wall\n      X. The Piggy Girl\n     XI. The Three Frogs\n    XII. Baa!  Baa!\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: She actually stood in \"a grove of Christmas trees.\"--PAGE\n30.]\n\n\n\n                                   I.\n\n                A CHRISTMAS DREAM, AND HOW IT CAME TRUE.\n\n\n\"I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would be another one!\"\nexclaimed a discontented-looking little girl, as she sat idly watching\nher mother arrange a pile of gifts two days before they were to be\ngiven.\n\n\"Why, Effie, what a dreadful thing to say! You are as bad as old\nScrooge; and I 'm afraid something will happen to you, as it did to him,\nif you don't care for dear Christmas,\" answered mamma, almost dropping\nthe silver horn she was filling with delicious candies.\n\n\"Who was Scrooge?  What happened to him?\" asked Effie, with a glimmer of\ninterest in her listless face, as she picked out the sourest lemon-drop\nshe could find; for nothing sweet suited her just then.\n\n\"He was one of Dickens's best people, and you can read the charming\nstory some day. He hated Christmas until a strange dream showed him how\ndear and beautiful it was, and made a better man of him.\"\n\n\"I shall read it; for I like dreams, and have a great many curious ones\nmyself.  But they don't keep me from being tired of Christmas,\" said\nEffie, poking discontentedly among the sweeties for something worth\neating.\n\n\"Why are you tired of what should be the happiest time of all the year?\"\nasked mamma, anxiously.\n\n\"Perhaps I should n't be if I had something new.  But it is always the\nsame, and there is n't any more surprise about it.  I always find heaps\nof goodies in my stocking.  Don't like some of them, and soon get tired\nof those I do like. We always have a great dinner, and I eat too much,\nand feel ill next day.  Then there is a Christmas tree somewhere, with a\ndoll on top, or a stupid old Santa Claus, and children dancing and\nscreaming over bonbons and toys that break, and shiny things that are of\nno use. Really, mamma, I 've had so many Christmases all alike that I\ndon't think I _can_ bear another one.\"  And Effie laid herself flat on\nthe sofa, as if the mere idea was too much for her.\n\nHer mother laughed at her despair, but was sorry to see her little girl\nso discontented, when she had everything to make her happy, and had\nknown but ten Christmas days.\n\n\"Suppose we don't give you _any_ presents at all,--how would that suit\nyou?\" asked mamma, anxious to please her spoiled child.\n\n\"I should like one large and splendid one, and one dear little one, to\nremember some very nice person by,\" said Effie, who was a fanciful\nlittle body, full of odd whims and notions, which her friends loved to\ngratify, regardless of time, trouble, or money; for she was the last of\nthree little girls, and very dear to all the family.\n\n\"Well, my darling, I will see what I can do to please you, and not say a\nword until all is ready.  If I could only get a new idea to start with!\"\nAnd mamma went on tying up her pretty bundles with a thoughtful face,\nwhile Effie strolled to the window to watch the rain that kept her\nin-doors and made her dismal.\n\n\"Seems to me poor children have better times than rich ones.  I can't go\nout, and there is a girl about my age splashing along, without any maid\nto fuss about rubbers and cloaks and umbrellas and colds.  I wish I was\na beggar-girl.\"\n\n\"Would you like to be hungry, cold, and ragged, to beg all day, and\nsleep on an ash-heap at night?\" asked mamma, wondering what would come\nnext.\n\n\"Cinderella did, and had a nice time in the end.  This girl out here has\na basket of scraps on her arm, and a big old shawl all round her, and\ndoes n't seem to care a bit, though the water runs out of the toes of\nher boots.  She goes paddling along, laughing at the rain, and eating a\ncold potato as if it tasted nicer than the chicken and ice-cream I had\nfor dinner. Yes, I do think poor children are happier than rich ones.\"\n\n\"So do I, sometimes.  At the Orphan Asylum to-day I saw two dozen merry\nlittle souls who have no parents, no home, and no hope of Christmas\nbeyond a stick of candy or a cake. I wish you had been there to see how\nhappy they were, playing with the old toys some richer children had sent\nthem.\"\n\n\"You may give them all mine; I 'm so tired of them I never want to see\nthem again,\" said Effie, turning from the window to the pretty\nbaby-house full of everything a child's heart could desire.\n\n\"I will, and let you begin again with something you will not tire of, if\nI can only find it.\"  And mamma knit her brows trying to discover some\ngrand surprise for this child who did n't care for Christmas.\n\nNothing more was said then; and wandering off to the library, Effie\nfound \"A Christmas Carol,\" and curling herself up in the sofa corner, it\nall before tea.  Some of it she did not understand; but she laughed and\ncried over many parts of the charming story, and felt better without\nknowing why.\n\nAll the evening she thought of poor Tiny Tim, Mrs. Cratchit with the\npudding, and the stout old gentleman who danced so gayly that \"his legs\ntwinkled in the air.\"  Presently bed-time arrived.\n\n\"Come, now, and toast your feet,\" said Effie's nurse, \"while I do your\npretty hair and tell stories.\"\n\n\"I 'll have a fairy tale to-night, a very interesting one,\" commanded\nEffie, as she put on her blue silk wrapper and little fur-lined slippers\nto sit before the fire and have her long curls brushed.\n\nSo Nursey told her best tales; and when at last the child lay down under\nher lace curtains, her head was full of a curious jumble of Christmas\nelves, poor children, snow-storms, sugar-plums, and surprises.  So it is\nno wonder that she dreamed all night; and this was the dream, which she\nnever quite forgot.\n\nShe found herself sitting on a stone, in the middle of a great field,\nall alone.  The snow was falling fast, a bitter wind whistled by, and\nnight was coming on.  She felt hungry, cold, and tired, and did not know\nwhere to go nor what to do.\n\n\"I wanted to be a beggar-girl, and now I am one; but I don't like it,\nand wish somebody would come and take care of me.  I don't know who I\nam, and I think I must be lost,\" thought Effie, with the curious\ninterest one takes in one's self in dreams.\n\nBut the more she thought about it, the more bewildered she felt.  Faster\nfell the snow, colder blew the wind, darker grew the night; and poor\nEffie made up her mind that she was quite forgotten and left to freeze\nalone.  The tears were chilled on her cheeks, her feet felt like\nicicles, and her heart died within her, so hungry, frightened, and\nforlorn was she.  Laying her head on her knees, she gave herself up for\nlost, and sat there with the great flakes fast turning her to a little\nwhite mound, when suddenly the sound of music reached her, and starting\nup, she looked and listened with all her eyes and ears.\n\nFar away a dim light shone, and a voice was heard singing.  She tried to\nrun toward the welcome glimmer, but could not stir, and stood like a\nsmall statue of expectation while the light drew nearer, and the sweet\nwords of the song grew clearer.\n\n      From our happy home\n      Through the world we roam\n    One week in all the year,\n      Making winter spring\n      With the joy we bring,\n    For Christmas-tide is here.\n\n      Now the eastern star\n      Shines from afar\n    To light the poorest home;\n      Hearts warmer grow,\n      Gifts freely flow,\n    For Christmas-tide has come.\n\n      Now gay trees rise\n      Before young eyes,\n    Abloom with tempting cheer;\n      Blithe voices sing,\n      And blithe bells ring,\n    For Christmas-tide is here.\n\n      Oh, happy chime,\n      Oh, blessed time,\n    That draws us all so near!\n      \"Welcome, dear day,\"\n      All creatures say,\n    For Christmas-tide is here.\n\n\nA child's voice sang, a child's hand carried the little candle; and in\nthe circle of soft light it shed, Effie saw a pretty child coming to her\nthrough the night and snow.  A rosy, smiling creature, wrapped in white\nfur, with a wreath of green and scarlet holly on its shining hair, the\nmagic candle in one hand, and the other outstretched as if to shower\ngifts and warmly press all other hands.\n\nEffie forgot to speak as this bright vision came nearer, leaving no\ntrace of footsteps in the snow, only lighting the way with its little\ncandle, and filling the air with the music of its song.\n\n\"Dear child, you are lost, and I have come to find you,\" said the\nstranger, taking Effie's cold hands in his, with a smile like sunshine,\nwhile every holly berry glowed like a little fire.\n\n\"Do you know me?\" asked Effie, feeling no fear, but a great gladness, at\nhis coming.\n\n\"I know all children, and go to find them; for this is my holiday, and I\ngather them from all parts of the world to be merry with me once a\nyear.\"\n\n\"Are you an angel?\" asked Effie, looking for the wings.\n\n\"No; I am a Christmas spirit, and live with my mates in a pleasant\nplace, getting ready for our holiday, when we are let out to roam about\nthe world, helping make this a happy time for all who will let us in.\nWill you come and see how we work?\"\n\n\"I will go anywhere with you.  Don't leave me again,\" cried Effie,\ngladly.\n\n\"First I will make you comfortable.  That is what we love to do.  You\nare cold, and you shall be warm; hungry, and I will feed you; sorrowful,\nand I will make you gay.\"\n\nWith a wave of his candle all three miracles were wrought,--for the\nsnow-flakes turned to a white fur cloak and hood on Effie's head and\nshoulders; a bowl of hot soup came sailing to her lips, and vanished\nwhen she had eagerly drunk the last drop; and suddenly the dismal field\nchanged to a new world so full of wonders that all her troubles were\nforgotten in a minute.\n\nBells were ringing so merrily that it was hard to keep from dancing.\nGreen garlands hung on the walls, and every tree was a Christmas tree\nfull of toys, and blazing with candles that never went out.\n\nIn one place many little spirits sewed like mad on warm clothes, turning\noff work faster than any sewing-machine ever invented, and great piles\nwere made ready to be sent to poor people. Other busy creatures packed\nmoney into purses, and wrote checks which they sent flying away on the\nwind,--a lovely kind of snow-storm to fall into a world below full of\npoverty.\n\nOlder and graver spirits were looking over piles of little books, in\nwhich the records of the past year were kept, telling how different\npeople had spent it, and what sort of gifts they deserved.  Some got\npeace, some disappointment, some remorse and sorrow, some great joy and\nhope.  The rich had generous thoughts sent them; the poor, gratitude and\ncontentment. Children had more love and duty to parents; and parents\nrenewed patience, wisdom, and satisfaction for and in their children.\nNo one was forgotten.\n\n\"Please tell me what splendid place this is?\" asked Effie, as soon as\nshe could collect her wits after the first look at all these astonishing\nthings.\n\n\"This is the Christmas world; and here we work all the year round, never\ntired of getting ready for the happy day.  See, these are the saints\njust setting off; for some have far to go, and the children must not be\ndisappointed.\"\n\nAs he spoke the spirit pointed to four gates, out of which four great\nsleighs were just driving, laden with toys, while a jolly old Santa\nClaus sat in the middle of each, drawing on his mittens and tucking up\nhis wraps for a long cold drive.\n\n\"Why, I thought there was only one Santa Claus, and even he was a\nhumbug,\" cried Effie, astonished at the sight.\n\n\"Never give up your faith in the sweet old stories, even after you come\nto see that they are only the pleasant shadow of a lovely truth.\"\n\nJust then the sleighs went off with a great jingling of bells and\npattering of reindeer hoofs, while all the spirits gave a cheer that was\nheard in the lower world, where people said, \"Hear the stars sing.\"\n\n\"I never will say there isn't any Santa Claus again.  Now, show me\nmore.\"\n\n\"You will like to see this place, I think, and may learn something here\nperhaps.\"\n\nThe spirit smiled as he led the way to a little door, through which\nEffie peeped into a world of dolls.  Baby-houses were in full blast,\nwith dolls of all sorts going on like live people.  Waxen ladies sat in\ntheir parlors elegantly dressed; black dolls cooked in the kitchens;\nnurses walked out with the bits of dollies; and the streets were full of\ntin soldiers marching, wooden horses prancing, express wagons rumbling,\nand little men hurrying to and fro.  Shops were there, and tiny people\nbuying legs of mutton, pounds of tea, mites of clothes, and everything\ndolls use or wear or want.\n\nBut presently she saw that in some ways the dolls improved upon the\nmanners and customs of human beings, and she watched eagerly to learn\nwhy they did these things.  A fine Paris doll driving in her carriage\ntook up a black worsted Dinah who was hobbling along with a basket of\nclean clothes, and carried her to her journey's end, as if it were the\nproper thing to do.  Another interesting china lady took off her\ncomfortable red cloak and put it round a poor wooden creature done up in\na paper shift, and so badly painted that its face would have sent some\nbabies into fits.\n\n\"Seems to me I once knew a rich girl who didn't give her things to poor\ngirls.  I wish I could remember who she was, and tell her to be as kind\nas that china doll,\" said Effie, much touched at the sweet way the\npretty creature wrapped up the poor fright, and then ran off in her\nlittle gray gown to buy a shiny fowl stuck on a wooden platter for her\ninvalid mother's dinner.\n\n\"We recall these things to people's minds by dreams.  I think the girl\nyou speak of won't forget this one.\"  And the spirit smiled, as if he\nenjoyed some joke which she did not see.\n\nA little bell rang as she looked, and away scampered the children into\nthe red-and-green school-house with the roof that lifted up, so one\ncould see how nicely they sat at their desks with mites of books, or\ndrew on the inch-square blackboards with crumbs of chalk.\n\n\"They know their lessons very well, and are as still as mice.  We make a\ngreat racket at our school, and get bad marks every day.  I shall tell\nthe girls they had better mind what they do, or their dolls will be\nbetter scholars than they are,\" said Effie, much impressed, as she\npeeped in and saw no rod in the hand of the little mistress, who looked\nup and shook her head at the intruder, as if begging her to go away\nbefore the order of the school was disturbed.\n\nEffie retired at once, but could not resist one look in at the window of\na fine mansion, where the family were at dinner, the children behaved so\nwell at table, and never grumbled a bit when their mamma said they could\nnot have any more fruit.\n\n\"Now, show me something else,\" she said, as they came again to the low\ndoor that led out of Doll-land.\n\n\"You have seen how we prepare for Christmas; let me show you where we\nlove best to send our good and happy gifts,\" answered the spirit, giving\nher his hand again.\n\n\"I know.  I've seen ever so many,\" began Effie, thinking of her own\nChristmases.\n\n\"No, you have never seen what I will show you.  Come away, and remember\nwhat you see to-night.\"\n\nLike a flash that bright world vanished, and Effie found herself in a\npart of the city she had never seen before.  It was far away from the\ngayer places, where every store was brilliant with lights and full of\npretty things, and every house wore a festival air, while people hurried\nto and fro with merry greetings.  It was down among the dingy streets\nwhere the poor lived, and where there was no making ready for Christmas.\n\nHungry women looked in at the shabby shops, longing to buy meat and\nbread, but empty pockets forbade.  Tipsy men drank up their wages in the\nbar-rooms; and in many cold dark chambers little children huddled under\nthe thin blankets, trying to forget their misery in sleep.\n\nNo nice dinners filled the air with savory smells, no gay trees dropped\ntoys and bonbons into eager hands, no little stockings hung in rows\nbeside the chimney-piece ready to be filled, no happy sounds of music,\ngay voices, and dancing feet were heard; and there were no signs of\nChristmas anywhere.\n\n\"Don't they have any in this place?\" asked Effie, shivering, as she held\nfast the spirit's hand, following where he led her.\n\n\"We come to bring it.  Let me show you our best workers.\"  And the\nspirit pointed to some sweet-faced men and women who came stealing into\nthe poor houses, working such beautiful miracles that Effie could only\nstand and watch.\n\nSome slipped money into the empty pockets, and sent the happy mothers to\nbuy all the comforts they needed; others led the drunken men out of\ntemptation, and took them home to find safer pleasures there.  Fires\nwere kindled on cold hearths, tables spread as if by magic, and warm\nclothes wrapped round shivering limbs. Flowers suddenly bloomed in the\nchambers of the sick; old people found themselves remembered; sad hearts\nwere consoled by a tender word, and wicked ones softened by the story of\nHim who forgave all sin.\n\nBut the sweetest work was for the children; and Effie held her breath to\nwatch these human fairies hang up and fill the little stockings without\nwhich a child's Christmas is not perfect, putting in things that once\nshe would have thought very humble presents, but which now seemed\nbeautiful and precious because these poor babies had nothing.\n\n\"That is so beautiful!  I wish I could make merry Christmases as these\ngood people do, and be loved and thanked as they are,\" said Effie,\nsoftly, as she watched the busy men and women do their work and steal\naway without thinking of any reward but their own satisfaction.\n\n\"You can if you will.  I have shown you the way.  Try it, and see how\nhappy your own holiday will be hereafter.\"\n\nAs he spoke, the spirit seemed to put his arms about her, and vanished\nwith a kiss.\n\n\"Oh, stay and show me more!\" cried Effie, trying to hold him fast.\n\n\"Darling, wake up, and tell me why you are smiling in your sleep,\" said\na voice in her ear; and opening her eyes, there was mamma bending over\nher, and morning sunshine streaming into the room.\n\n\"Are they all gone?  Did you hear the bells?  Was n't it splendid?\" she\nasked, rubbing her eyes, and looking about her for the pretty child who\nwas so real and sweet.\n\n\"You have been dreaming at a great rate,--talking in your sleep,\nlaughing, and clapping your hands as if you were cheering some one. Tell\nme what was so splendid,\" said mamma, smoothing the tumbled hair and\nlifting up the sleepy head.\n\nThen, while she was being dressed, Effie told her dream, and Nursey\nthought it very wonderful; but mamma smiled to see how curiously things\nthe child had thought, read, heard, and seen through the day were mixed\nup in her sleep.\n\n\"The spirit said I could work lovely miracles if I tried; but I don't\nknow how to begin, for I have no magic candle to make feasts appear, and\nlight up groves of Christmas trees, as he did,\" said Effie, sorrowfully.\n\n\"Yes, you have.  We will do it!  we will do it!\"  And clapping her\nhands, mamma suddenly began to dance all over the room as if she had\nlost her wits.\n\n\"How?  how?  You must tell me, mamma,\" cried Effie, dancing after her,\nand ready to believe anything possible when she remembered the\nadventures of the past night.\n\n\"I 've got it!  I 've got it!--the new idea.  A splendid one, if I can\nonly carry it out!\"  And mamma waltzed the little girl round till her\ncurls flew wildly in the air, while Nursey laughed as if she would die.\n\n\"Tell me! tell me!\" shrieked Effie.\n\n\"No, no; it is a surprise,--a grand surprise for Christmas day!\" sung\nmamma, evidently charmed with her happy thought.  \"Now, come to\nbreakfast; for we must work like bees if we want to play spirits\nto-morrow.  You and Nursey will go out shopping, and get heaps of\nthings, while I arrange matters behind the scenes.\"\n\nThey were running downstairs as mamma spoke, and Effie called out\nbreathlessly,--\n\n\"It won't be a surprise; for I know you are going to ask some poor\nchildren here, and have a tree or something.  It won't be like my dream;\nfor they had ever so many trees, and more children than we can find\nanywhere.\"\n\n\"There will be no tree, no party, no dinner, in this house at all, and\nno presents for you. Won't that be a surprise?\"  And mamma laughed at\nEffie's bewildered face.\n\n\"Do it.  I shall like it, I think; and I won't ask any questions, so it\nwill all burst upon me when the time comes,\" she said; and she ate her\nbreakfast thoughtfully, for this really would be a new sort of\nChristmas.\n\nAll that morning Effie trotted after Nursey in and out of shops, buying\ndozens of barking dogs, woolly lambs, and squeaking birds; tiny\ntea-sets, gay picture-books, mittens and hoods, dolls and candy.  Parcel\nafter parcel was sent home; but when Effie returned she saw no trace of\nthem, though she peeped everywhere. Nursey chuckled, but would n't give\na hint, and went out again in the afternoon with a long list of more\nthings to buy; while Effie wandered forlornly about the house, missing\nthe usual merry stir that went before the Christmas dinner and the\nevening fun.\n\nAs for mamma, she was quite invisible all day, and came in at night so\ntired that she could only lie on the sofa to rest, smiling as if some\nvery pleasant thought made her happy in spite of weariness.\n\n\"Is the surprise going on all right?\" asked Effie, anxiously; for it\nseemed an immense time to wait till another evening came.\n\n\"Beautifully! better than I expected; for several of my good friends are\nhelping, or I could n't have done it as I wish.  I know you will like\nit, dear, and long remember this new way of making Christmas merry.\"\n\nMamma gave her a very tender kiss, and Effie went to bed.\n\n\nThe next day was a very strange one; for when she woke there was no\nstocking to examine, no pile of gifts under her napkin, no one said\n\"Merry Christmas!\" to her, and the dinner was just as usual to her.\nMamma vanished again, and Nursey kept wiping her eyes and saying: \"The\ndear things!  It's the prettiest idea I ever heard of.  No one but your\nblessed ma could have done it.\"\n\n\"Do stop, Nursey, or I shall go crazy because I don't know the secret!\"\ncried Effie, more than once; and she kept her eye on the clock, for at\nseven in the evening the surprise was to come off.\n\nThe longed-for hour arrived at last, and the child was too excited to\nask questions when Nurse put on her cloak and hood, led her to the\ncarriage, and they drove away, leaving their house the one dark and\nsilent one in the row.\n\n\"I feel like the girls in the fairy tales who are led off to strange\nplaces and see fine things,\" said Effie, in a whisper, as they jingled\nthrough the gay streets.\n\n\"Ah, my deary, it _is_ like a fairy tale, I do assure you, and you\n_will_ see finer things than most children will to-night.  Steady, now,\nand do just as I tell you, and don't say one word whatever you see,\"\nanswered Nursey, quite quivering with excitement as she patted a large\nbox in her lap, and nodded and laughed with twinkling eyes.\n\nThey drove into a dark yard, and Effie was led through a back door to a\nlittle room, where Nurse coolly proceeded to take off not only her cloak\nand hood, but her dress and shoes also. Effie stared and bit her lips,\nbut kept still until out of the box came a little white fur coat and\nboots, a wreath of holly leaves and berries, and a candle with a frill\nof gold paper round it. A long \"Oh!\" escaped her then; and when she was\ndressed and saw herself in the glass, she started back, exclaiming,\n\"Why, Nursey, I look like the spirit in my dream!\"\n\n\"So you do; and that's the part you are to play, my pretty!  Now whist,\nwhile I blind your eyes and put you in your place.\"\n\n\"Shall I be afraid?\" whispered Effie, full of wonder; for as they went\nout she heard the sound of many voices, the tramp of many feet, and, in\nspite of the bandage, was sure a great light shone upon her when she\nstopped.\n\n\"You need n't be; I shall stand close by, and your ma will be there.\"\n\nAfter the handkerchief was tied about her eyes, Nurse led Effie up some\nsteps, and placed her on a high platform, where something like leaves\ntouched her head, and the soft snap of lamps seemed to fill the air.\n\nMusic began as soon as Nurse clapped her hands, the voices outside\nsounded nearer, and the tramp was evidently coming up the stairs.\n\n\"Now, my precious, look and see how you and your dear ma have made a\nmerry Christmas for them that needed it!\"\n\nOff went the bandage; and for a minute Effie really did think she was\nasleep again, for she actually stood in \"a grove of Christmas trees,\"\nall gay and shining as in her vision.  Twelve on a side, in two rows\ndown the room, stood the little pines, each on its low table; and behind\nEffie a taller one rose to the roof, hung with wreaths of popcorn,\napples, oranges, horns of candy, and cakes of all sorts, from sugary\nhearts to gingerbread Jumbos.  On the smaller trees she saw many of her\nown discarded toys and those Nursey bought, as well as heaps that seemed\nto have rained down straight from that delightful Christmas country\nwhere she felt as if she was again.\n\n\"How splendid!  Who is it for?  What is that noise?  Where is mamma?\"\ncried Effie, pale with pleasure and surprise, as she stood looking down\nthe brilliant little street from her high place.\n\nBefore Nurse could answer, the doors at the lower end flew open, and in\nmarched twenty-four little blue-gowned orphan girls, singing sweetly,\nuntil amazement changed the song to cries of joy and wonder as the\nshining spectacle appeared.  While they stood staring with round eyes at\nthe wilderness of pretty things about them, mamma stepped up beside\nEffie, and holding her hand fast to give her courage, told the story of\nthe dream in a few simple words, ending in this way:--\n\n\"So my little girl wanted to be a Christmas spirit too, and make this a\nhappy day for those who had not as many pleasures and comforts as she\nhas.  She likes surprises, and we planned this for you all.  She shall\nplay the good fairy, and give each of you something from this tree,\nafter which every one will find her own name on a small tree, and can go\nto enjoy it in her own way.  March by, my dears, and let us fill your\nhands.\"\n\nNobody told them to do it, but all the hands were clapped heartily\nbefore a single child stirred; then one by one they came to look up\nwonderingly at the pretty giver of the feast as she leaned down to offer\nthem great yellow oranges, red apples, bunches of grapes, bonbons, and\ncakes, till all were gone, and a double row of smiling faces turned\ntoward her as the children filed back to their places in the orderly way\nthey had been taught.\n\nThen each was led to her own tree by the good ladies who had helped\nmamma with all their hearts; and the happy hubbub that arose would have\nsatisfied even Santa Claus himself,--shrieks of joy, dances of delight,\nlaughter and tears (for some tender little things could not bear so much\npleasure at once, and sobbed with mouths full of candy and hands full of\ntoys).  How they ran to show one another the new treasures! how they\npeeped and tasted, pulled and pinched, until the air was full of queer\nnoises, the floor covered with papers, and the little trees left bare of\nall but candles!\n\n\"I don't think heaven can be any gooder than this,\" sighed one small\ngirl, as she looked about her in a blissful maze, holding her full apron\nwith one hand, while she luxuriously carried sugar-plums to her mouth\nwith the other.\n\n\"Is that a truly angel up there?\" asked another, fascinated by the\nlittle white figure with the wreath on its shining hair, who in some\nmysterious way had been the cause of all this merry-making.\n\n\"I wish I dared to go and kiss her for this splendid party,\" said a lame\nchild, leaning on her crutch, as she stood near the steps, wondering how\nit seemed to sit in a mother's lap, as Effie was doing, while she\nwatched the happy scene before her.\n\nEffie heard her, and remembering Tiny Tim, ran down and put her arms\nabout the pale child, kissing the wistful face, as she said sweetly,\n\"You may; but mamma deserves the thanks. She did it all; I only dreamed\nabout it.\"\n\nLame Katy felt as if \"a truly angel\" was embracing her, and could only\nstammer out her thanks, while the other children ran to see the pretty\nspirit, and touch her soft dress, until she stood in a crowd of blue\ngowns laughing as they held up their gifts for her to see and admire.\n\nMamma leaned down and whispered one word to the older girls; and\nsuddenly they all took hands to dance round Effie, singing as they\nskipped.\n\nIt was a pretty sight, and the ladies found it hard to break up the\nhappy revel; but it was late for small people, and too much fun is a\nmistake.  So the girls fell into line, and marched before Effie and\nmamma again, to say good-night with such grateful little faces that the\neyes of those who looked grew dim with tears. Mamma kissed every one;\nand many a hungry childish heart felt as if the touch of those tender\nlips was their best gift.  Effie shook so many small hands that her own\ntingled; and when Katy came she pressed a small doll into Effie's hand,\nwhispering, \"You did n't have a single present, and we had lots.  Do\nkeep that; it's the prettiest thing I got.\"\n\n\"I will,\" answered Effie, and held it fast until the last smiling face\nwas gone, the surprise all over, and she safe in her own bed, too tired\nand happy for anything but sleep.\n\n\"Mamma, it _was_ a beautiful surprise, and I thank you so much!  I don't\nsee how you did it; but I like it best of all the Christmases I ever\nhad, and mean to make one every year.  I had my splendid big present,\nand here is the dear little one to keep for love of poor Katy; so even\nthat part of my wish came true.\"\n\nAnd Effie fell asleep with a happy smile on her lips, her one humble\ngift still in her hand, and a new love for Christmas in her heart that\nnever changed through a long life spent in doing good.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \"Hollo, what do you want?\" he asked, staring at her.\nPAGE 46.]\n\n\n\n                                  II.\n\n                           THE CANDY COUNTRY.\n\n\n\"I shall take mamma's red sun-umbrella, it is so warm, and none of the\nchildren at school will have one like it,\" said Lily, one day, as she\nwent through the hall.\n\n\"The wind is very high; I 'm afraid you 'll be blown away if you carry\nthat big thing,\" called Nurse from the window, as the red umbrella went\nbobbing down the garden walk with a small girl under it.\n\n\"I wish it would; I always wanted to go up in a balloon,\" answered Lily,\nas she struggled out of the gate.\n\nShe got on very well till she came to the bridge and stopped to look\nover the railing at the water running by so fast, and the turtles\nsunning themselves on the rocks.  Lily was fond of throwing stones at\nthem; it was so funny to watch them tumble, heels over head, splash into\nthe water. Now, when she saw three big fellows close by, she stooped for\na stone, and just at that minute a gale of wind nearly took the umbrella\nout of her hand.  She clutched it fast; and away she went like a\nthistle-down, right up in the air, over river and hill, houses and\ntrees, faster and faster, till her head spun round, her breath was all\ngone, and she had to let go.  The dear red umbrella flew away like a\nleaf; and Lily fell down, down, till she went crash into a tree which\ngrew in such a curious place that she forgot her fright as she sat\nlooking about her, wondering what part of the world it could be.\n\nThe tree looked as if made of glass or colored sugar; for she could see\nthrough the red cherries, the green leaves, and the brown branches. An\nagreeable smell met her nose; and she said at once, as any child would,\n\"I smell candy!\"  She picked a cherry and ate it.  Oh, how good it\nwas!--all sugar and no stone.  The next discovery was such a delightful\none that she nearly fell off her perch; for by touching her tongue here\nand there, she found that the whole tree was made of candy.  Think what\nfun to sit and break off twigs of barley sugar, candied cherries, and\nleaves that tasted like peppermint and sassafras!\n\nLily rocked and ate till she finished the top of the little tree; then\nshe climbed down and strolled along, making more surprising and\nagreeable discoveries as she went.\n\nWhat looked like snow under her feet was white sugar; the rocks were\nlumps of chocolate, the flowers of all colors and tastes; and every sort\nof fruit grew on these delightful trees.  Little white houses soon\nappeared; and here lived the dainty candy-people, all made of the best\nsugar, and painted to look like real people. Dear little men and women,\nlooking as if they had stepped off of wedding cakes and bonbons, went\nabout in their gay sugar clothes, laughing and talking in the sweetest\nvoices.  Bits of babies rocked in open-work cradles, and sugar boys and\ngirls played with sugar toys in the most natural way.  Carriages rolled\nalong the jujube streets, drawn by the red and yellow barley horses we\nall love so well; cows fed in the green fields, and sugar birds sang in\nthe trees.\n\nLily listened, and in a moment she understood what the song said,--\n\n    \"Sweet!  Sweet!\n    Come, come and eat.\n    Dear little girls\n    With yellow curls;\n    For here you 'll find\n    Sweets to your mind.\n    On every tree\n    Sugar-plums you 'll see;\n    In every dell\n    Grows the caramel.\n    Over every wall\n    Gum-drops fall;\n    Molasses flows\n    Where our river goes.\n    Under your feet\n    Lies sugar sweet;\n    Over your head\n    Grow almonds red.\n    Our lily and rose\n    Are not for the nose;\n    Our flowers we pluck\n    To eat or suck.\n    And, oh! what bliss\n    When two friends kiss,\n    For they honey sip\n    From lip to lip!\n    And all you meet,\n    In house or street,\n    At work or play,\n    Sweethearts are they.\n    So, little dear,\n    Pray feel no fear:\n    Go where you will;\n    Eat, eat your fill.\n    Here is a feast\n    From west to east;\n    And you can say,\n    Ere you go away,\n    'At last I stand\n    In dear Candy-land,\n    And no more can stuff;\n    For once I 've enough.'\n    Sweet!  Sweet!\n    Tweet!  Tweet!\n    Tweedle-dee!\n    Tweedle-dee!\"\n\n\n\"That is the most interesting song I ever heard,\" said Lily, clapping\nher sticky hands and dancing along toward a fine palace of white cream\ncandy, with pillars of striped peppermint stick, and a roof of frosting\nthat made it look like the Milan Cathedral.\n\n\"I 'll live here, and eat candy all day long, with no tiresome school or\npatchwork to spoil my fun,\" said Lily.\n\nSo she ran up the chocolate steps into the pretty rooms, where all the\nchairs and tables were of different colored candies, and the beds of\nspun sugar.  A fountain of lemonade supplied drink; and floors of\nice-cream that never melted kept people and things from sticking\ntogether, as they would have done had it been warm.\n\nFor a long while Lily was quite happy, going about tasting so many\ndifferent kinds of sweeties, talking to the little people, who were very\namiable, and finding out curious things about them and their country.\n\nThe babies were made of plain sugar, but the grown people had different\nflavors.  The young ladies were flavored with violet, rose, and orange;\nthe gentlemen were apt to have cordials of some sort inside of them, as\nshe found when she ate one now and then slyly, and got her tongue bitten\nby the hot, strong taste as a punishment.  The old people tasted of\npeppermint, clove, and such comfortable things, good for pain; but the\nold maids had lemon, hoarhound, flag-root, and all sorts of sour, bitter\nthings in them, and did not get eaten much.  Lily soon learned to know\nthe characters of her new friends by a single taste, and some she never\ntouched but once.  The dear babies melted in her mouth, and the\ndelicately flavored young ladies she was very fond of.  Dr. Ginger was\ncalled to her more than once when so much candy made her teeth ache, and\nshe found him a very hot-tempered little man; but he stopped the pain,\nso she was glad to see him.\n\nA lime-drop boy and a little pink checker-berry girl were her favorite\nplaymates; and they had fine times making mud-pies by scraping the\nchocolate rocks and mixing this dust with honey from the wells near by.\nThese they could eat; and Lily thought this much better than throwing\naway the pies, as she had to do at home.  They had candy-pulls very\noften, and made swings of long loops of molasses candy, and bird's-nests\nwith almond eggs, out of which came birds who sang sweetly.  They played\nfootball with big bull's-eyes, sailed in sugar boats on lakes of syrup,\nfished in rivers of molasses, and rode the barley horses all over the\ncountry.\n\nLily discovered that it never rained, but snowed white sugar.  There was\nno sun, as it would have been too hot; but a large yellow lozenge made a\nnice moon, and red and white comfits were the stars.\n\nThe people all lived on sugar, and never quarrelled.  No one was ill;\nand if any got broken, as sometimes happened with such brittle\ncreatures, they just stuck the parts together and were all right again.\nThe way they grew old was to get thinner and thinner till there was\ndanger of their vanishing.  Then the friends of the old person put him\nin a neat coffin, and carried him to the great golden urn which stood in\ntheir largest temple, always full of a certain fine syrup; and here he\nwas dipped and dipped till he was stout and strong again, and went home\nto enjoy himself for a long time as good as new.\n\nThis was very interesting to Lily, and she went to many funerals.  But\nthe weddings were better still; for the lovely white brides were so\nsweet Lily longed to eat them.  The feasts were delicious; and everybody\nwent in their best clothes, and danced at the ball till they got so warm\nhalf-a-dozen would stick together and have to be taken to the ice-cream\nroom to cool off.  Then the little pair would drive away in a fine\ncarriage with white horses to a new palace in some other part of the\ncountry, and Lily would have another pleasant place to visit.\n\nBut by and by, when she had seen everything, and eaten so much sweet\nstuff that at last she longed for plain bread and butter, she began to\nget cross, as children always do when they live on candy; and the little\npeople wished she would go away, for they were afraid of her.  No\nwonder, when she would catch up a dear sugar baby and eat him, or break\nsome respectable old grandmamma all into bits because she reproved her\nfor naughty ways.  Lily calmly sat down on the biggest church, crushing\nit flat, and even tried to poke the moon out of the sky in a pet one\nday.  The king ordered her to go home; but she said, \"I won't!\" and bit\nhis head off, crown and all.\n\nSuch a wail went up at this awful deed that she ran away out of the\ncity, fearing some one would put poison in her candy, since she had no\nother food.\n\n\"I suppose I shall get somewhere if I keep walking; and I can't starve,\nthough I hate the sight of this horrid stuff,\" she said to herself, as\nshe hurried over the mountains of Gibraltar Rock that divided the city\nof Saccharissa from the great desert of brown sugar that lay beyond.\n\nLily marched bravely on for a long time, and saw at last a great smoke\nin the sky, smelt a spicy smell, and felt a hot wind blowing toward her.\n\n\"I wonder if there are sugar savages here, roasting and eating some poor\ntraveller like me,\" she said, thinking of Robinson Crusoe and other\nwanderers in strange lands.\n\nShe crept carefully along till she saw a settlement of little huts very\nlike mushrooms, for they were made of cookies set on lumps of the brown\nsugar; and queer people, looking as if made of gingerbread, were working\nvery busily round several stoves which seemed to bake at a great rate.\n\n\"I'll creep nearer and see what sort of people they are before I show\nmyself,\" said Lily, going into a grove of spice-trees, and sitting down\non a stone which proved to be the plummy sort of cake we used to call\nBrighton Rock.\n\nPresently one of the tallest men came striding toward the trees with a\npan, evidently after spice; and before she could run, he saw Lily.\n\n\"Hollo, what do you want?\" he asked, staring at her with his black\ncurrant eyes, while he briskly picked the bark off a cinnamon-tree.\n\n\"I'm travelling, and would like to know what place this is, if you\nplease,\" answered Lily, very politely, being a little frightened.\n\n\"Cake-land.  Where do you come from?\" asked the gingerbread man, in a\ncrisp tone of voice.\n\n\"I was blown into the Candy country, and have been there a long time;\nbut I got tired of it, and ran away to find something better.\"\n\n\"Sensible child!\" and the man smiled till Lily thought his cheeks would\ncrumble.  \"You'll get on better here with us Brownies than with the lazy\nBonbons, who never work and are all for show.  They won't own us, though\nwe are all related through our grandparents Sugar and Molasses.  We are\nbusy folks; so they turn up their noses and don't speak when we meet at\nparties.  Poor creatures, silly and sweet and unsubstantial!  I pity\n'em.\"\n\n\"Could I make you a visit?  I'd like to see how you live, and what you\ndo.  I 'm sure it must be interesting,\" said Lily, picking herself up\nafter a tumble, having eaten nearly all the stone, she was so hungry.\n\n\"I know you will.  Come on!  I can talk while I work.\"  And the funny\ngingerbread man trotted off toward his kitchen, full of pans,\nrolling-pins, and molasses jugs.\n\n\"Sit down.  I shall be at leisure as soon as this batch is baked.  There\nare still some wise people down below who like gingerbread, and I have\nmy hands full,\" he said, dashing about, stirring, rolling out, and\nslapping the brown dough into pans, which he whisked into the oven and\nout again so fast that Lily knew there must be magic about it somewhere.\n\nEvery now and then he threw her a delicious cooky warm from the oven.\nShe liked the queer fellow, and presently began to talk, being very\ncurious about this country.\n\n\"What is your name, sir?\"\n\n\"Ginger Snap.\"\n\nLily thought it a good one; for he was very quick, and she fancied he\ncould be short and sharp if he liked.\n\n\"Where does all this cake go to?\" she asked, after watching the other\nkitchens full of workers, who were all of different kinds of cake, and\neach set of cooks made its own sort.\n\n\"I 'll show you by and by,\" answered Snap, beginning to pile up the\nheaps of gingerbread on a little car that ran along a track leading to\nsome unknown storeroom, Lily thought.\n\n\"Don't you get tired of doing this all the time?\"\n\n\"Yes; but I want to be promoted, and I never shall be till I 've done my\nbest, and won the prize here.\"\n\n\"Oh, tell me about it!  What is the prize, and how are you promoted?  Is\nthis a cooking-school?\"\n\n\"Yes; the prize for best gingerbread is a cake of condensed yeast.  That\nputs a soul into me, and I begin to rise till I am able to go over the\nhills yonder into the blessed land of bread, and be one of the happy\ncreatures who are always wholesome, always needed, and without which the\nworld below would be in a bad way.\"\n\n\"Bless me! that is the queerest thing I Ve heard yet.  But I don't\nwonder you want to go; I 'm tired of sweets myself, and long for a good\npiece of bread, though I used to want cake and candy at home.\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear, you 'll learn a good deal here; and you are lucky not to\nhave got into the clutches of Giant Dyspepsia, who always gets people if\nthey eat too much of such rubbish and scorn wholesome bread.  I leave my\nginger behind when I go, and get white and round and beautiful, as you\nwill see.  The Gingerbread family have never been as foolish as some of\nthe other cakes.  Wedding is the worst; such extravagance in the way of\nwine and spice and fruit I never saw, and such a mess to eat when it's\ndone!  I don't wonder people get sick; serves 'em right.\"  And Snap\nflung down a pan with such a bang that it made Lily jump.\n\n\"Sponge cake is n't bad, is it?  Mamma lets me eat it, but I like\nfrosted pound better,\" she said, looking over to the next kitchen, where\npiles of that sort of cake were being iced.\n\n\"Poor stuff.  No substance.  Ladies' fingers will do for babies, but\npound has too much butter ever to be healthy.  Let it alone, and eat\ncookies or seed-cakes, my dear.  Now, come along; I'm ready.\"  And Snap\ntrundled away his car-load at a great pace.\n\nLily ran behind to pick up whatever fell, and looked about her as she\nwent, for this was certainly a very queer country.  Lakes of eggs all\nbeaten up, and hot springs of saleratus foamed here and there ready for\nuse.  The earth was brown sugar or ground spice; and the only fruits\nwere raisins, dried currants, citron, and lemon peel.  It was a very\nbusy place; for every one cooked all the time, and never failed and\nnever seemed tired, though they got so hot that they only wore sheets of\npaper for clothes.  There were piles of it to put over the cake, so that\nit shouldn't burn; and they made cook's white caps and aprons of it, and\nlooked very nice.  A large clock made of a flat pancake, with cloves to\nmark the hours and two toothpicks for hands, showed them how long to\nbake things; and in one place an ice wall was built round a lake of\nbutter, which they cut in lumps as they wanted it.\n\n\"Here we are.  Now, stand away while I pitch 'em down,\" said Snap,\nstopping at last before a hole in the ground where a dumbwaiter hung\nready, with a name over it.\n\nThere were many holes all round, and many waiters, each with its name;\nand Lily was amazed when she read \"Weber,\" \"Copeland,\" \"Dooling,\" and\nothers, which she knew very well.\n\nOver Snap's place was the name \"Newmarch;\" and Lily said, \"Why, that's\nwhere mamma gets her hard gingerbread, and Weber's is where we go for\nice-cream.  Do _you_ make cake for them?\"\n\n\"Yes, but no one knows it.  It's one of the secrets of the trade.  We\ncook for all the confectioners, and people think the good things come\nout of the cellars under their saloons. Good joke, is n't it?\"  And Snap\nlaughed till a crack came in his neck and made him cough.\n\nLily was so surprised she sat down on a warm queen's cake that happened\nto be near, and watched Snap send down load after load of gingerbread to\nbe eaten by children, who would have liked it much better if they had\nonly known where it came from, as she did.\n\nAs she sat, the clatter of many spoons, the smell of many dinners, and\nthe sound of many voices calling, \"One vanilla, two strawberries, and a\nCharlotte Russe,\" \"Three stews, cup coffee, dry toast,\" \"Roast chicken\nand apple without,\" came up the next hole, which was marked \"Copeland.\"\n\n\"Dear me! it seems as if I was there,\" said Lily, longing to hop down,\nbut afraid of the bump at the other end.\n\n\"I 'm done.  Come along, I 'll ride you back,\" called Snap, tossing the\nlast cooky after the dumb-waiter as it went slowly out of sight with its\nspicy load.\n\n\"I wish you 'd teach me to cook.  It looks great fun, and mamma wants me\nto learn; only our cook hates to have me mess round, and is so cross\nthat I don't like to try at home,\" said Lily, as she went trundling\nback.\n\n\"Better wait till you get to Bread-land, and learn to make that.  It's a\ngreat art, and worth knowing.  Don't waste your time on cake, though\nplain gingerbread is n't bad to have in the house.  I 'll teach you that\nin a jiffy, if the clock does n't strike my hour too soon,\" answered\nSnap, helping her down.\n\n\"What hour?\"\n\n\"Why, of my freedom.  I never know when I 've done my task till I 'm\ncalled by the chimes and go to get my soul,\" said Snap, turning his\ncurrant eyes anxiously to the clock.\n\n\"I hope you _will_ have time.\"  And Lily fell to work with all her\nmight, after Snap had put on her a paper apron and a cap like his.\n\nIt was not hard; for when she was going to make a mistake a spark flew\nout of the fire and burnt her in time to remind her to look at the\nreceipt, which was a sheet of gingerbread in a frame of pie-crust hung\nup before her, with the directions written while it was soft and baked\nin.  The third sheet she made came out of the oven spicy, light, and\nbrown; and Snap, giving it one poke, said, \"That's all right.  Now you\nknow.  Here's your reward.\"\n\nHe handed her a receipt-book made of thin sheets of sugar-gingerbread\nheld together by a gelatine binding, with her name stamped on the back,\nand each leaf crimped with a cake-cutter in the most elegant manner.\n\nLily was charmed with it, but had no time to read all it contained; for\njust then the clock began to strike, and a chime of bells to ring,--\n\n    \"Gingerbread,\n    Go to the head.\n    Your task is done;\n    A soul is won.\n    Take it and go\n    Where muffins grow,\n    Where sweet loaves rise\n    To the very skies,\n    And biscuits fair\n    Perfume the air.\n    Away, away!\n    Make no delay;\n    In the sea of flour\n    Plunge this hour.\n    Safe in your breast\n    Let the yeast-cake rest,\n    Till you rise in joy,\n    A white bread boy!\"\n\n\n\"Ha, ha!  I 'm free!  I 'm free!\" cried Snap, catching up the\nsilver-covered square that seemed to fall from heaven; and running to a\ngreat white sea of flour, he went in head first, holding the yeast-cake\nclasped to his breast as if his life depended on it.\n\nLily watched breathlessly, while a curious working and bubbling went on,\nas if Snap was tumbling about down there like a small earthquake.  The\nother cake-folk stood round the shore with her; for it was a great\nevent, and all were glad that the dear fellow was promoted so soon.\nSuddenly a cry was heard, and up rose a beautiful white figure on the\nfarther side of the sea.  It moved its hand, as if saying \"Good-by,\" and\nran over the hills so fast they had only time to see how plump and fair\nhe was, with a little knob on the top of his head like a crown.\n\n\"He 's gone to the happy land, and we shall miss him; but we 'll follow\nhis example and soon find him again,\" said a gentle Sponge cake, with a\nsigh, as all went back to their work; while Lily hurried after Snap,\neager to see the new country, which was the best of all.\n\nA delicious odor of fresh bread blew up from the valley as she stood on\nthe hill-top and looked down on the peaceful scene below.  Fields of\nyellow grain waved in the breeze; hop-vines grew from tree to tree; and\nmany windmills whirled their white sails as they ground the different\ngrains into fresh, sweet meal, for the loaves of bread that built the\nhouses like bricks and paved the streets, or in many shapes formed the\npeople, furniture, and animals.  A river of milk flowed through the\npeaceful land, and fountains of yeast rose and fell with a pleasant foam\nand fizz.  The ground was a mixture of many meals, and the paths were\ngolden Indian, which gave a very gay look to the scene. Buckwheat\nflowers bloomed on their rosy stems, and tall corn-stalks rustled their\nleaves in the warm air that came from the ovens hidden in the hillsides;\nfor bread needs a slow fire, and an obliging volcano did the baking\nhere.\n\n\"What a lovely place!\" cried Lily, feeling the charm of the homelike\nlandscape, in spite of the funny plump people moving about.\n\nTwo of these figures came running to meet her as she slowly walked down\nthe yellow path from the hill.  One was a golden boy, with a beaming\nface; the other a little girl in a shiny brown cloak, who looked as if\nshe would taste very nice.  They each put a warm hand into Lily's, and\nthe boy said,--\n\n\"We are glad to see you.  Muffin told us you were coming.\"\n\n\"Thank you.  Who is Muffin?\" asked Lily, feeling as if she had seen both\nthese little people before, and liked them.\n\n\"He was Ginger Snap once, but he's a Muffin now.  We begin in that way,\nand work up to the perfect loaf by degrees.  My name is Johnny Cake, and\nshe's Sally Lunn.  You know us; so come on and have a race.\"\n\nLily burst out laughing at the idea of playing with these old friends of\nhers; and all three ran away as fast as they could tear, down the hill,\nover a bridge, into the middle of the village, where they stopped,\npanting, and sat down on some very soft rolls to rest.\n\n\"What do you all do _here_?\" asked Lily, when she got her breath again.\n\n\"We farm, we study, we bake, we brew, and are as merry as grigs all day\nlong.  It's school-time now, and we must go; will you come?\" said Sally,\njumping up as if she liked it.\n\n\"Our schools are not like yours; we only study two things,--grain and\nyeast.  I think you 'll like it.  We have yeast to-day, and the\nexperiments are very jolly,\" added Johnny, trotting off to a tall brown\ntower of rye and Indian bread, where the school was kept.\n\nLily never liked to go to school, but she was ashamed to own it; so she\nwent along with Sally, and was so amused with all she saw that she was\nglad she came.  The brown loaf was hollow, and had no roof; and when she\nasked why they used a ruin, Sally told her to wait and see why they\nchose strong walls and plenty of room overhead.  All round was a circle\nof very small biscuits like cushions, and on these the Bread-children\nsat.  A square loaf in the middle was the teacher's desk, and on it lay\nan ear of wheat, with several bottles of yeast well corked up.  The\nteacher was a pleasant, plump lady from Vienna, very wise, and so famous\nfor her good bread that she was a Professor of Grainology.\n\nWhen all were seated, she began with the wheat ear, and told them all\nabout it in such an interesting way that Lily felt as if she had never\nknown anything about the bread she ate before. The experiments with the\nyeast were quite exciting,--for Fraulein Pretzel showed them how it\nwould work till it blew the cork out, and go fizzing up to the sky if it\nwas kept too long; how it would turn sour or flat, and spoil the bread\nif care was not taken to use it just at the right moment; and how too\nmuch would cause the loaf to rise till there was no substance to it.\n\nThe children were very bright; for they were fed on the best kinds of\noatmeal and Graham bread, with very little white bread or hot cakes to\nspoil their young stomachs.  Hearty, happy boys and girls they were, and\ntheir yeasty souls were very lively in them for they danced and sung,\nand seemed as bright and gay as if acidity, heaviness, and mould were\nquite unknown.\n\nLily was very happy with them, and when school was done went home with\nSally and ate the best bread and milk for dinner that she ever tasted.\nIn the afternoon Johnny took her to the cornfield, and showed her how\nthey kept the growing ears free from mildew and worms. Then she went to\nthe bakehouse; and here she found her old friend Muffin hard at work\nmaking Parker House rolls, for he was such a good cook he was set to\nwork at once on the lighter kinds of bread.\n\n\"Well, is n't this better than Candy-land or Saccharissa?\" he asked, as\nhe rolled and folded his bits of dough with a dab of butter tucked\ninside.\n\n\"Ever so much!\" cried Lily.  \"I feel better already, and mean to learn\nall I can.  Mamma will be so pleased if I can make good bread when I go\nhome.  She is rather old-fashioned, and likes me to be a nice\nhousekeeper.  I did n't think bread interesting then, but I do now; and\nJohnny's mother is going to teach me to make Indian cakes to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Glad to hear it.  Learn all you can, and tell other people how to make\nhealthy bodies and happy souls by eating good plain food.  Not like\nthis, though these rolls are better than cake. I have to work my way up\nto the perfect loaf, you know; and then, oh, then, I 'm a happy thing.\"\n\n\"What happens then?  Do you go on to some other wonderful place?\" asked\nLily, as Muffin paused with a smile on his face.\n\n\"Yes; I am eaten by some wise, good human being, and become a part of\nhim or her.  That is immortality and heaven; for I may nourish a poet\nand help him sing, or feed a good woman who makes the world better for\nbeing in it, or be crumbed into the golden porringer of a baby prince\nwho is to rule a kingdom.  Is n't that a noble way to live, and an end\nworth working for?\" asked Muffin, in a tone that made Lily feel as if\nsome sort of fine yeast had got into her, and was setting her brain to\nwork with new thoughts.\n\n\"Yes, it is.  I suppose all common things are made for that purpose, if\nwe only knew it; and people should be glad to do anything to help the\nworld along, even making good bread in a kitchen,\" answered Lily, in a\nsober way that showed that her little mind was already digesting the new\nfood it had got.\n\nShe stayed in Bread-land a long time, and enjoyed and learned a great\ndeal that she never forgot.  But at last, when she had made the perfect\nloaf, she wanted to go home, that her mother might see and taste it.\n\n\"I 've put a good deal of myself into it, and I 'd love to think I had\ngiven her strength or pleasure by my work,\" she said, as she and Sally\nstood looking at the handsome loaf.\n\n\"You can go whenever you like; just take the bread in your hands and\nwish three times, and you 'll be wherever you say.  I 'm sorry to have\nyou go, but I don't wonder you want to see your mother.  Don't forget\nwhat you have learned, and you will always be glad you came to us,\" said\nSally, kissing her good-by.\n\n\"Where is Muffin?  I can't go without seeing him, my dear old friend,\"\nanswered Lily, looking round for him.\n\n\"He is here,\" said Sally, touching the loaf. \"He was ready to go, and\nchose to pass into your bread rather than any other; for he said he\nloved you and would be glad to help feed so good a little girl.\"\n\n\"How kind of him!  I must be careful to grow wise and excellent, else he\nwill be disappointed and have died in vain,\" said Lily, touched by his\ndevotion.\n\nThen, bidding them all farewell, she hugged her loaf close, wished three\ntimes to be in her own home, and like a flash she was there.\n\nWhether her friends believed the wonderful tale of her adventures I\ncannot tell; but I know that she was a nice little housekeeper from that\nday, and made such good bread that other girls came to learn of her.\nShe also grew from a sickly, fretful child into a fine, strong woman,\nbecause she ate very little cake and candy, except at Christmas time,\nwhen the oldest and the wisest love to make a short visit to Candyland.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: As soon as he was alone, Jocko ... jumped on his back.\nPAGE 70.]\n\n\n\n                                  III.\n\n                             NAUGHTY JOCKO.\n\n\n\"A music-man! a music-man!  Run quick, and see if he has got a monkey on\nhis organ,\" cried little Neddy, running to the window in a great hurry\none day.\n\nYes; there was the monkey in his blue and red suit, with a funny little\ncap, and the long tail trailing behind.  But he did n't seem to be a\nlively monkey; for he sat in a bunch, with his sad face turned anxiously\nto his master, who kept pulling the chain to make him dance.  The stiff\ncollar had made his neck sore; and when the man twitched, the poor thing\nmoaned and put up his little hand to hold the chain.  He tried to dance,\nbut was so weak he could only hop a few steps, and stop panting for\nbreath.  The cruel man would n't let him rest till Neddy called out,--\n\n\"Don't hurt him; let him come up here and get this cake, and rest while\nyou play.  I 've got some pennies for you.\"\n\nSo poor Jocko climbed slowly up the trellis, and sat on the window-ledge\ntrying to eat; but he was so tired he went to sleep, and when the man\npulled to wake him up, he slipped and fell, and lay as if he were dead.\nNeddy and his aunt ran down to see if he was killed.  The cross man\nscolded and shook him; but he never moved, and the man said,--\n\n\"He is dead.  I don't want him.  I will sell him to some one to stuff.\"\n\n\"No; his heart beats a little.  Leave him here a few days, and we will\ntake care of him; and if he gets well, perhaps we will buy him,\" said\nAunt Jane, who liked to nurse even a sick monkey.\n\nThe man said he was going on for a week through the towns near by, and\nwould call and see about it when he came back.  Then he went away; and\nNeddy and aunty put Jocko in a nice basket, and carried him in.  The\nminute the door was shut and he felt safe, the sly fellow peeped out\nwith one eye, and seeing only the kind little boy began to chatter and\nkick off the shawl; for he was not much hurt, only tired and hungry, and\ndreadfully afraid of the cruel man who beat and starved him.\n\nNeddy was delighted, and thought it very funny, and helped his aunt take\noff the stiff collar and put some salve on the sore neck. Then they got\nmilk and cake; and when he had eaten a good dinner, Jocko curled himself\nup and slept till the next day.  He was quite lively in the morning; for\nwhen Aunt Jane went to call Neddy, Jocko was not in his basket, and\nlooking round the room for him, she saw the little black thing lying on\nthe boy's pillow, with his arm round Neddy's neck like a queer baby.\n\n\"My patience!  I can't allow that,\" said the old lady, and went to pull\nJocko out.  But he slipped away like an eel, and crept chattering and\nburrowing down to the bottom of the bed, holding on to Neddy's toes,\ntill he waked up, howling that crabs were nipping him.\n\nThen they had a great frolic; and Jocko climbed all over the bed, up on\nthe tall wardrobe, and the shelf over the door, where the image of an\nangel stood.  He patted it, and hugged it, and looked so very funny with\nhis ugly black face by the pretty white one, that Neddy rolled on the\nfloor, and Aunt Jane laughed till her glasses flew off.  By and by he\ncame down, and had a nice breakfast, and let them tie a red ribbon over\nthe bandage on his neck. He liked the gay color, and kept going to look\nin the glass, and grin and chatter at his own image, which he evidently\nadmired.\n\n\"Now, he shall go to walk with me, and all the children shall see my new\npet,\" said Neddy, as he marched off with Jock on his shoulder.\n\nEvery one laughed at the funny little fellow with his twinkling eyes,\nbrown hands, and long tail, and Neddy felt very grand till they got to\nthe store; then troubles began.  He put Jocko on a table near the door,\nand told him to stay there while he did his errands.  Now, close by was\nthe place where the candy was kept, and Jocko loved sweeties like any\ngirl; so he hopped along, and began to eat whatever he liked. Some boys\ntried to stop him; and then he got angry at them for pulling his tail,\nand threw handfuls of sugarplums at them.  That was great fun; and the\nmore they laughed and scrambled and poked at him, the faster he showered\nchocolates, caramels, and peppermints over them, till it looked as if it\nhad rained candy.  The man was busy with Neddy at the other end of the\nstore; but when he heard the noise, both ran to see what was the matter.\nNeither of them could stop naughty Jocko, who liked this game, and ran\nup on the high shelves among the toys. Then down came little tubs and\ndolls' stoves, tin trumpets and cradles, while boxes of leaden soldiers\nand whole villages flew through the air, smash, bang, rattle, bump, all\nover the floor. The man scolded, Neddy cried, the boys shouted, and\nthere was a lively time in that shop till a good slapping with a long\nstick made Jock tumble into a tub of water where some curious fishes\nlived; and then they caught him.\n\nNeddy was much ashamed, and told the man his aunt would pay for all the\nbroken things. Then he took his naughty pet, and started to go home and\ntie him up, for it was plain this monkey was not to be trusted.  But as\nsoon as they got out, Jocko ran up a tree and dropped on to a load of\nhay passing underneath.  Here he danced and pranced, and had a fine\ntime, throwing off the man's coat and rake, and eating some of the\ndinner tied up in a cloth.  The crusts of bread and the bones he threw\nat the horse; this new kind of whip frightened the horse, and he ran\naway down a steep hill, and upset the hay and broke the cart.  Oh, such\na time!  It was worse than the candy scrape; for the man swore, and the\nhorse was hurt, and people said the monkey ought to be shot, he did so\nmuch mischief.  Jocko did n't care a bit; he sat high up in a tree, and\nchattered and scolded, and swung by his tail, and was so droll that\npeople could n't help laughing at him.  Poor Neddy cried again, and went\nhome to tell his troubles to Aunt Jane, fearing that it would take all\nthe money in his bank to pay for the damage the bad monkey had done in\none hour.\n\nAs soon as he was alone Jocko came skipping along, and jumped on his\nback, and peeped at him, and patted his cheeks, and was so cunning and\ngood Neddy could n't whip him; but he shut him up in a closet to punish\nhim.\n\nJocko was tired; so he went to sleep, and all was quiet till\ndinner-time.  They were ready for the pudding, and Neddy had saved a\nplace for a good plateful, as he liked snow-pudding, when shrieks were\nheard in the kitchen, and Mary the maid rushed in to say,--\n\n\"Oh, ma'am, that horrid beast has spoilt the pudding, and is scaring\nKaty out of her life!\"\n\nThey all ran; and there sat that naughty monkey on the table, throwing\nthe nice white snow all over poor cook, till her face looked as if she\nwas ready to be shaved.  His own face looked the same, for he had eaten\nall he wanted while the pudding stood cooling in the pantry.  He had\ncrept out of a window in the closet, and had a fine rummage among the\nsugar-buckets, butter-boxes, and milk-pans.\n\nKate wailed, and Mary scolded; but Aunt Jane and grandpa laughed, and\nNeddy chased Jock into the garden with the broom.  They had to eat bread\nand jelly for dessert, and it took the girls a long time to clear up the\nmess the rascal made.\n\n\"We will put his collar and chain on again, and keep him tied up all the\ntime till the man comes,\" said Aunt Jane.\n\n\"But I can't catch him,\" sighed Neddy, watching the little imp whisk\nabout in the garden among the currant-bushes, chasing hens and tossing\ngreen apples round in high glee.\n\n\"Sit quietly down somewhere and wait till he is tired; then he will come\nto you, and you can hold him fast,\" said Aunt Jane.\n\nSo Neddy waited; and though he was much worried at his new pet's\nnaughtiness, he enjoyed his pranks like a boy.\n\nGrandpa took naps in the afternoon on the piazza, and he was dozing\ncomfortably when Jocko swung down from the grape-vine by his long tail,\nand tickled the old gentleman on the nose with a straw.  Grandpa\nsneezed, and opened one eye to brush away the fly as he supposed. Then\nhe went to sleep again, and Jocko dropped a caterpillar on his bald\nhead; this made him open the other eye to see what that soft, creepy\nthing could be.  Neddy could n't help laughing, for he often wanted to\ndo just such things, but never dared, because grandpa was a very stern\nold gentleman, and no one took liberties with him.  Jocko was n't\nafraid, however; and presently he crept to the table, stele the glasses\nlying there, put them on, and taking up the paper held it before him,\nchattering as if he were reading it, as he had seen people do.  Neddy\nlaughed out loud at this, and clapped his hands, Jocko looked so like a\nlittle old man, in spite of the tail curled up behind.  This time\ngrandpa opened both eyes at once, and stared as if he saw a hobgoblin\nbefore him; then he snatched off the spectacles, and caught up his cane,\ncrying angrily,--\n\n\"You rascal, how dare you!\"\n\nBut Jocko tossed the paper in his face, and with one jump lighted on the\nback of old Tom, the big yellow cat, who lay asleep close by. Scared\nhalf out of his wits, Tom spit and bounced; but Jocko held fast to his\ncollar, and had a fine race round the garden, while the girls laughed at\nthe funny sight, and Neddy shouted, \"It's a circus; and there's the\nmonkey and the pony.\"  Even grandpa smiled, especially when puss dashed\nup a tree, and Jock tumbled off. He chased him, and they had a great\nbattle; but Tom's claws were sharp, and the monkey got a scratch on the\nnose, and ran crying to Neddy for comfort.\n\n\"Now, you naughty fellow, I 'll chain you up, and stop these dreadful\ntricks.  But you are great fun, and I can't whip you,\" said the boy; for\nhe knew what it was to enjoy a holiday, and poor Jocko had not had one\nfor a long time.\n\nJocko ate some lunch, took a nap in the grass, and then was ready for\nmore frolics.  Neddy had fastened him to a tree in the garden, so that\nhe could enjoy the sun and air, and catch grasshoppers if he liked.  But\nJocko wanted something more; and presently Neddy, who was reading in his\nhammock on the piazza, heard a great cackling among the hens, and looked\nup to see the monkey swinging by his tail from a bough, holding the\ngreat cock-a-doodle by his splendid tail, while all the twenty hens\nclucked and cackled with wrath and fear at such a dreadful prank.\n\n\"Now, that's too bad; I _will_ slap him this time,\" said Neddy, running\nto save his handsome bird from destruction.  But before he got there\npoor cocky had pulled his fine tail-feathers all out in his struggles,\nand when set free was so frightened and mortified that he ran away and\nhid in the bushes, and the hens went to comfort him.\n\nNeddy gave Jocko a good whipping, and left him looking as meek as a\nbaby, all cuddled up in a little bunch, with his head in his hands as if\ncrying for his naughtiness.  But he was n't sorry.  Oh, dear, no! for in\nhalf an hour he had picked every one of the sweet peas Aunt Jane was so\nfond of, thrown all the tomatoes over the fence, and let the parrot out\nof his cage.  The sight of Polly walking into the parlor with a polite\n\"How are you, ma'am?\" sent Aunt Jane to see what was going on.  Neddy\nwas fast asleep in the hammock, worn out with his cares; and Jocko,\nhaving unhooked his chain, was sitting on the chimney-top of a\nneighbor's house, eating corn.\n\n\"We shall not live to the end of the week if this sort of thing goes on.\nI don't know what to do with the little beast; he 's as bad as an\nelephant to take care of,\" said the poor lady, in despair, as she saw\nJocko throw his corncob down on the minister's hat as that stately\ngentleman went by.\n\nAs none of them could catch him, Miss Jane let him alone till Neddy\nwaked up and could go and find some of the big boys to help him.\n\nJocko soon left the roof, and skipped in at a window that stood open.\nIt was little Nelly Brown's play-room, and she had left her pet doll\nMaud Mabel Rose Matilda very ill in the best bed, while she went down to\nget a poppy leaf to rub the darling's cheeks with, because she had a\nhigh fever.  Jocko took a fancy to the pretty bed, and after turning the\nplay-house topsy-turvy, he pulled poor Maud Mabel Rose Matilda out by\nher flaxen hair, and stuffing her into the water-pitcher upside down,\ngot into the bed, drew the lace curtains, and prepared to doze\ndeliciously under the pink silk bed-cover.\n\nUp came Nelly, and went at once to the dear invalid, saying in her\nmotherly little voice,--\n\n\"Now, my darling child, lie quite still, and I won't hurt you one bit.\"\n\nBut when she drew the curtain, instead of the lovely yellow-haired doll\nin her ruffled nightcap, she saw an ugly little black face staring at\nher, and a tiny hand holding the sheet fast. Nelly gave one scream, and\nflew downstairs into the parlor where the Sewing-circle was at work,\nfrightening twenty-five excellent ladies by her cries, as she clung to\nher mother, wailing,--\n\n\"A bogie! a bogie!  I saw him, all black; and he snarled at me, and my\ndolly is gone! What shall I do? oh, what shall I do?\"\n\nThere was great confusion, for all the ladies talked at once; and it so\nhappened that none of them knew anything about the monkey, therefore\nthey all agreed that Nelly was a foolish child, and had made a fuss\nabout nothing. She cried dismally, and kept saying to her mother,--\n\n\"Go and see; it's in my dolly's bed,--I found it there, and darling\nMaudie is gone.\"\n\n\"We _will_ go and see,\" said Mrs. Moses Merryweather,--a stout old lady,\nwho kept her six girls in such good order that _they_ would never have\ndared to cry if ten monkeys had popped out at them.\n\nMiss Hetty Bumpus, a tall thin maiden lady, with a sharp eye and pointed\nnose, went with her; but at the door that led to the dining-room both\nstopped short, and after one look came flying back, calling out\ntogether,--\n\n\"Mrs. Brown, your supper is spoilt! a dreadful beast has ruined it all!\"\n\nThen twenty-five excited ladies flew across the hall to behold Jocko\nsitting on the great cake in the middle of the table, his feet bathed in\ncream from the overturned pitcher, while all around lay the ruins of\ncustards, tarts, biscuits, and sauce, not to mention nice napkins made\ninto hay-cocks, spoons, knives, and forks, on the floor, and the best\nsilver teapot in the fireplace.\n\nWhile Nelly told her tale and the ladies questioned and comforted her,\nthis bad monkey had skipped downstairs and had a delightful party all by\nhimself.  He was just scraping the jelly out of a tart when they\ndisturbed him; and knowing that more slaps were in store for him if he\nstayed, he at once walked calmly down the ravaged table, and vanished\nout of the window carrying the silver tea-strainer with him to play\nwith.\n\nThe ladies had no supper that night; and poor Mrs. Brown sent a note to\nAunt Jane, telling her the sad story, and adding that Nelly was quite\nill with the fright and the loss of dear Maud Mabel Rose Matilda,\ndrowned in the water-pitcher and forever spoilt.\n\n\"John shall go after that man to-morrow, and bring him back to carry\nthis terrible monkey away.  I can't live with him a week; he will cost\nme a fortune, and wear us all out,\" said Aunt Jane, when Jocko was\nsafely shut up in the cellar, after six boys had chased him all over the\nneighborhood before they caught him.\n\nNeddy was quite willing to let him go; but John was saved his journey,\nfor in the morning poor Jocko was found dead in a trap, where his\ninquisitive head had been poked to see what the cheese tasted like.\n\nSo he was buried by the river, and every one felt much relieved; for the\nman never came back, thinking Jocko dead when he left him.  But he had\nnot lived in vain; for after this day of trial, mischievous Neddy\nbehaved much better, and Aunt Jane could always calm his prankish spirit\nby saying, as her finger pointed to a little collar and chain hanging on\nthe wall,--\n\n\"If you want to act like naughty Jocko, say so, and I 'll tie you up.\nOne monkey is enough for this family.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Kitty laughed, and began to dance...  Such twirlings and\nstoppings as she made.--PAGE 85.]\n\n\n\n                                  IV.\n\n                          THE SKIPPING SHOES.\n\n\nOnce there was a little girl, named Kitty, who never wanted to do what\npeople asked her.  She said \"I won't\" and \"I can't,\" and did not run at\nonce pleasantly, as obliging children do.\n\nOne day her mother gave her a pair of new shoes; and after a fuss about\nputting them on, Kitty said, as she lay kicking on the floor,--\n\n\"I wish these were seven-leagued boots, like Jack the Giant Killer's;\nthen it would be easy to run errands all the time.  Now, I hate to keep\ntrotting, and I don't like new shoes, and I won't stir a step.\"\n\nJust as she said that, the shoes gave a skip, and set her on her feet so\nsuddenly that it scared all the naughtiness out of her.  She stood\nlooking at these curious shoes; and the bright buttons on them seemed to\nwink at her like eyes, while the heels tapped on the floor a sort of\ntune.  Before she dared to stir, her mother called from the next room,--\n\n\"Kitty, run and tell the cook to make a pie for dinner; I forgot it.\"\n\n\"I don't want to,\" began Kitty, with a whine as usual.\n\nBut the words were hardly out of her mouth when the shoes gave one jump,\nand took her downstairs, through the hall, and landed her at the kitchen\ndoor.  Her breath was nearly gone; but she gave the message, and turned\nround, trying to see if the shoes would let her walk at all.  They went\nnicely till she wanted to turn into the china-closet where the cake was.\nShe was forbidden to touch it, but loved to take a bit when she could.\nNow she found that her feet were fixed fast to the floor, and could not\nbe moved till her father said, as he passed the window close by,--\n\n\"You will have time to go to the post-office before school and get my\nletters.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" began Kitty; but she found she could, for away went the\nshoes, out of the house at one bound, and trotted down the street so\nfast that the maid who ran after her with her hat could not catch her.\n\n\"I can't stop!\" cried Kitty; and she did not till the shoes took her\nstraight into the office.\n\n\"What's the hurry to-day?\" asked the man, as he saw her without any hat,\nall rosy and breathless, and her face puckered up as if she did not know\nwhether to laugh or to cry.\n\n\"I won't tell any one about these dreadful shoes, and I 'll take them\noff as soon as I get home.  I hope they will go back slowly, or people\nwill think I 'm crazy,\" said Kitty to herself, as she took the letters\nand went away.\n\nThe shoes walked nicely along till she came to the bridge; and there she\nwanted to stop and watch some boys in a boat, forgetting school and her\nfather's letters.  But the shoes would n't stop, though she tried to\nmake them, and held on to the railing as hard as she could.  Her feet\nwent on; and when she sat down they still dragged her along so steadily\nthat she had to go, and she got up feeling that there was something very\nstrange about these shoes.  The minute she gave up, all went smoothly,\nand she got home in good time.\n\n\"I won't wear these horrid things another minute,\" said Kitty, sitting\non the doorstep and trying to unbutton the shoes.\n\nBut not a button could she stir, though she got red and angry struggling\nto do it.\n\n\"Time for school; run away, little girl,\" called mamma from upstairs, as\nthe clock struck nine.\n\n\"I won't!\" said Kitty, crossly.\n\nBut she did; for those' magic shoes danced her off, and landed her at\nher desk in five minutes.\n\n\"Well, I 'm not late; that's one comfort,\" she thought, wishing she had\ncome pleasantly, and not been whisked away without any luncheon.\n\nHer legs were so tired with the long skips that she was glad to sit\nstill; and that pleased the teacher, for generally she was fussing about\nall lesson time.  But at recess she got into trouble again; for one of\nthe children knocked down the house of corn-cobs she had built, and made\nher angry.\n\n\"Now, I 'll kick yours down, and see how you like it, Dolly.\"\n\nUp went her foot, but it did n't come down; it stayed in the air, and\nthere she stood looking as if she were going to dance.  The children\nlaughed to see her, and she could do nothing till she said to Dolly in a\ngreat hurry,--\n\n\"Never mind; if you didn't mean to, I'll forgive you.\"\n\nThen the foot went down, and Kitty felt so glad about it that she tried\nto be pleasant, fearing some new caper of those dreadful shoes.  She\nbegan to see how they worked, and thought she would try if she had any\npower over them.  So, when one of the children wanted his ball, which\nhad bounced over the hedge, she said kindly,--\n\n\"Perhaps I can get it for you, Willy.\"\n\nAnd over she jumped as lightly as if she too were an india-rubber ball.\n\n\"How could you do it?\" cried the boys, much surprised; for not one of\nthem dared try such a high leap.\n\nKitty laughed, and began to dance, feeling pleased and proud to find\nthere was a good side to the shoes after all.  Such twirlings and\nskippings as she made, such pretty steps and airy little bounds it was\npretty to see; for it seemed as if her feet were bewitched, and went of\nthemselves.  The little girls were charmed, and tried to imitate her;\nbut no one could, and they stood in a circle watching her dance till the\nbell rang, then all rushed in to tell about it.\n\nKitty said it was her new shoes, and never told how queerly they acted,\nhoping to have good times now.  But she was mistaken.\n\nOn the way home she wanted to stop and see her friend Bell's new doll;\nbut at the gate her feet stuck fast, and she had to give up her wishes\nand go straight on, as mamma had told her always to do.\n\n\"Run and pick a nice little dish of strawberries for dinner,\" said her\nsister, as she went in.\n\n\"I 'm too ti--\"  There was no time to finish, for the shoes landed her\nin the middle of the strawberry bed at one jump.\n\n\"I might as well be a grasshopper if I 'm to skip round like this,\" she\nsaid, forgetting to feel tired out there in the pleasant garden, with\nthe robins picking berries close by, and a cool wind lifting the leaves\nto show where the reddest and ripest ones hid.\n\nThe little dish was soon filled, and she wanted to stay and eat a few,\nwarm and sweet from the vines; but the bell rang, and away she went,\nover the wood-pile, across the piazza, and into the dining-room before\nthe berry in her mouth was half eaten.\n\n\"How this child does rush about to-day!\" said her mother.  \"It is so\ndelightful to have such a quick little errand-girl that I shall get her\nto carry some bundles to my poor people this afternoon.\n\n\"Oh, dear me!  I do hate to lug those old clothes and bottles and\nbaskets of cold victuals round.  Must I do it?\" sighed Kitty, dismally,\nwhile the shoes tapped on the floor under the table, as if to remind her\nthat she must, whether she liked it or not.\n\n\"It would be right and kind, and would please me very much.  But you may\ndo as you choose about it.  I am very tired, and some one must go; for\nthe little Bryan baby is sick and needs what I send,\" said mamma,\nlooking disappointed.\n\nKitty sat very still and sober for some time, and no one spoke to her.\nShe was making up her mind whether she would go pleasantly or be whisked\nabout like a grasshopper against her will.  When dinner was over, she\nsaid in a cheerful voice,--\n\n\"I 'll go, mamma; and when all the errands are done, may I come back\nthrough Fairyland, as we call the little grove where the tall ferns\ngrow?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear; when you oblige me, I am happy to please you.\"\n\n\"I 'm glad I decided to be good; now I shall have a lovely time,\" said\nKitty to herself, as she trotted away with a basket in one hand, a\nbundle in the other, and some money in her pocket for a poor old woman\nwho needed help.\n\nThe shoes went quietly along, and seemed to know just where to stop.\nThe sick baby's mother thanked her for the soft little nightgowns; the\nlame girl smiled when she saw the books; the hungry children gathered\nround the basket of food, like young birds eager to be fed; and the old\nwoman gave her a beautiful pink shell that her sailor son brought home\nfrom sea.\n\nWhen all the errands were done Kitty skipped away to Fairyland, feeling\nvery happy, as people always do when they have done kind things.  It was\na lovely place; for the ferns made green arches tall enough for little\ngirls to sit under, and the ground was covered with pretty green moss\nand wood-flowers.  Birds flew about in the pines, squirrels chattered in\nthe oaks, butterflies floated here and there, and from the pond near by\ncame the croak of frogs sunning their green backs on the mossy stones.\n\n\"I wonder if the shoes will let me stop and rest; it is so cool here,\nand I 'm so tired,\" said Kitty, as she came to a cosey nook at the foot\nof a tree.\n\nThe words were hardly out of her mouth when her feet folded under her,\nand there she sat on a cushion of moss, like the queen of the wood on\nher throne.  Something lighted with a bump close by her; and looking\ndown she saw a large black cricket with a stiff tail, staring at her\ncuriously.\n\n\"Bless my heart!  I thought you were some relation of my cousin\nGrasshopper's.  You came down the hill with long leaps just like him; so\nI stopped to say, How d' ye do,\" said the cricket, in its creaky voice.\n\n\"I 'm not a grasshopper; but I have on fairy shoes to-day, and so do\nmany things that I never did before,\" answered Kitty, much surprised to\nbe able to understand what the cricket said.\n\n\"It is midsummer day, and fairies can play whatever pranks they like.\nIf you did n't have those shoes on, you could n't understand what I say.\nHark, and hear those squirrels talk, and the birds, and the ants down\nhere.  Make the most of this chance; for at sunset your shoes will stop\nskipping, and the fun all be over.\"\n\nWhile the cricket talked Kitty did hear all sorts of little voices,\nsinging, laughing, chatting in the gayest way, and understood every word\nthey said.  The squirrels called to one another as they raced about,--\n\n    \"Here's a nut, there's a nut;\n      Hide it quick away,\n    In a hole, under leaves,\n      To eat some winter day.\n    Acorns sweet are plenty,\n      We will have them all:\n    Skip and scamper lively\n      Till the last ones fall.\"\n\n\nThe birds were singing softly,--\n\n    \"Rock a bye, babies,\n      Your cradle hangs high;\n    Soft down your pillow,\n      Your curtain the sky.\n    Father will feed you,\n      While mother will sing,\n    And shelter our darlings\n      With her warm wing.\"\n\n\nAnd the ants were saying to one another as they hurried in and out of\ntheir little houses,--\n\n    \"Work, neighbor, work!\n      Do not stop to play;\n    Wander far and wide,\n      Gather all you may.\n    We are never like\n      Idle butterflies,\n    But like the busy bees,\n      Industrious and wise.\"\n\n\n\"Ants always were dreadfully good, but butterflies are ever so much\nprettier,\" said Kitty, listening to the little voices with wonder and\npleasure.\n\n    \"Hollo! hollo!\n    Come down below,--\n    It's lovely and cool\n    Out here in the pool;\n    On a lily-pad float\n    For a nice green boat.\n    Here we sit and sing\n    In a pleasant ring;\n    Or leap-frog play,\n    In the jolliest way.\n    Our games have begun,\n    Come join in the fun.\"\n\n\n\"Dear me! what could I do over there in the mud with the queer green\nfrogs?\" laughed Kitty, as this song was croaked at her.\n\n    \"No, no, come and fly\n    Through the sunny sky,\n    Or honey sip\n    From the rose's lip,\n    Or dance in the air,\n    Like spirits fair.\n    Come away, come away;\n    'T is our holiday.\"\n\n\nA cloud of lovely yellow butterflies flew up from a wild-rose bush, and\nwent dancing away higher and higher, till they vanished in the light\nbeyond the wood.\n\n\"That is better than leap-frog.  I wish my skipping shoes would let me\nfly up somewhere, instead of carrying me on errands and where I ought to\ngo all the time,\" said Kitty, watching the pretty things glitter as they\nflew.\n\nJust at that minute a clock struck, and away went the shoes over the\npool, the hill, the road, till they pranced in at the gate as the\ntea-bell rang.  Kitty amused the family by telling what she had done and\nseen; but no one believed the Fairyland part, and her father said,\nlaughing,--\n\n\"Go on, my dear, making up little stories, and by and by you may be as\nfamous as Hans Christian Andersen, whose books you like so well.\"\n\n\"The sun will soon set, and then my fun will be over; so I must skip\nwhile I can,\" thought Kitty, and went waltzing round the lawn so\nprettily that all the family came to see her.\n\n\"She dances so well that she shall go to dancing-school,\" said her\nmother, pleased with the pretty antics of her little girl.\n\nKitty was delighted to hear that; for she had longed to go, and went on\nskipping as hard as she could, that she might learn some of the graceful\nsteps the shoes took before the day was done.\n\n\"Come, dear, stop now, and run up to your bath and bed.  It has been a\nlong hot day, and you are tired; so get to sleep early, for Nursey wants\nto go out,\" said her mother, as the sun went down behind the hills with\na last bright glimmer, like the wink of a great sleepy eye.\n\n\"Oh, please, a few minutes more,\" began Kitty, but was off like a flash;\nfor the shoes trotted her upstairs so fast that she ran against old\nNursey, and down she went, splashing the water all over the floor, and\nscolding in such a funny way that it made Kitty laugh so that she could\nhardly pick her up again.\n\nBy the time she was ready to undress the sun was quite gone, and the\nshoes she took off were common ones again, for midsummer day was over.\nBut Kitty never forgot the little lessons she had learned: she tried to\nrun willingly when spoken to; she remembered the pretty steps and danced\nlike a fairy; and best of all, she always loved the innocent and\ninteresting little creatures in the woods and fields, and whenever she\nwas told she might go to play with them, she hurried away almost as\nquickly as if she still wore the skipping shoes.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: So Cocky was brought in, and petted.--PAGE 105.]\n\n\n\n                                   V.\n\n                               COCKYLOO.\n\n\nIn the barnyard a gray hen sat on her nest, feeling very happy because\nit was time for her eggs to hatch, and she hoped to have a fine brood of\nchickens.  Presently crack, crack, went the shells; \"Peep, peep!\" cried\nthe chicks; \"Cluck, cluck!\" called the hen; and out came ten downy\nlittle things one after the other, all ready to run and eat and\nscratch,--for chickens are not like babies, and don't have to be tended\nat all.\n\nThere were eight little hens and two little cockerels, one black and one\nas white as snow, with yellow legs, bright eyes, and a tiny red comb on\nhis head.  This was Cockyloo, the good chick; but the black one was\nnamed Peck, and was a quarrelsome bad fowl, as we shall see.\n\nMrs. Partlet, the mamma, was very proud of her fine family; for the\neight little daughters were all white and very pretty.  She led them out\ninto the farmyard, clucking and scratching busily; for all were hungry,\nand ran chirping round her to pick up the worms and seeds she found for\nthem.  Cocky soon began to help take care of his sisters; and when a\nnice corn or a fat bug was found, he would step back and let little\nDowny or Snowball have it.  But Peck would run and push them away, and\ngobble up the food greedily.  He chased them away from the pan where the\nmeal was, and picked the down off their necks if they tried to get their\nshare.  His mother scolded him when the little ones ran to hide under\nher wings; but he did n't care, and was very naughty. Cocky began to\ncrow when he was very young, and had such a fine voice that people liked\nto hear his loud, clear \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\" early in the morning; for\nhe woke before the sun was up, and began his song.  Peck used to grumble\nat being roused at dawn, for he was lazy; but the hens bustled up, and\nwere glad to get out of the hen-house.\n\nThe father cock had been killed by a dog; so they made Cocky king of the\nfarmyard, and Peck was very jealous of him.\n\n\"I came out of the shell first, and I am the oldest; so I ought to be\nking,\" he said.\n\n\"But we don't like you, because you are selfish, cross, and lazy.  We\nwant Cocky; he is so lively, kind, and brave.  He will make a splendid\nbird, and he must be our king,\" answered the hens; and Peck had to mind,\nor they would have pulled every feather out of his little tail.\n\nHe resolved to do some harm to his good brother, and plagued him all he\ncould.  One day, when Cocky was swinging with three of his sisters on a\nbush that hung over the brook, Peck asked a stupid donkey feeding near\nto come and put his heavy foot on the bush. He did it, and crack went\nthe branch, splash went the poor chicks into the water, and all were\ndrowned but Cocky, who flew across and was saved.  Poor little Hop,\nChirp, and Downy went floating down the brook like balls of white foam,\nand were never seen again. All the hens mourned for them, and put a\nblack feather in their heads to show how sorry they were.  Mamma Partlet\nwas heart-broken to lose three darlings at once; but Cocky comforted\nher, and never told how it happened, because he was ashamed to have\npeople know what a bad bird Peck was.\n\nA butterfly saw it all, and he told Granny Cockletop about it; and the\nhens were so angry that they turned Peck out of the barnyard, and he had\nto go and live in the woods alone.  He said he did n't care; but he did,\nand was very unhappy, and used to go and peep into the pleasant field\nwhere the fowls scratched and talked together.  He dared not show\nhimself, for they would have driven him out.  But kind Cocky saw him,\nand would run with some nice bit and creep through the fence into the\nwood, saying,--\n\n\"Poor brother, I'm sorry for you, and I'll come and play with you, and\ntell you the news.\"\n\nNow in this wood lived a fox, and he had been planning to eat Peck as\nsoon as he was fat; for he missed the good corn and meal he used to\nhave, and grew very thin living on grasshoppers and berries.  While he\nwaited the sly fellow made friends with Peck, though the bird knew that\nfoxes ate hens.\n\n\"I 'm not afraid, and I don't believe old Granny Cockletop's tales.  I\ncan take care of myself, I guess,\" he said, and went on playing with the\nfox, who got him to tell all about the hen-house,--how the door was\nfastened, and where the plump chickens roosted, and what time they went\nto bed,--so that he could creep in and steal a good supper by and by.\nSilly Peck never guessed what harm he was doing, and only laughed when\nCocky said,--\n\n\"You will be sorry if you play with the fox.  He is a bad fellow; so be\ncareful and sleep on a high branch, and keep out of his way, as I do.\"\n\nCocky was fat and large, and the fox longed to eat him, but never could,\nbecause he wisely ran home whenever he saw the rogue hiding in the wood.\nThis made Peck angry, for he wanted his brother to stay and play; and so\none day, when Cocky ran off in the midst of a nice game, Peck said to\nthe fox,--\n\n\"See here, if you want to catch that fellow, I 'll tell you how to do\nit.  He has promised to bring me some food to-night, when all the rest\nare at roost.  He will hide and not get shut up; then, when those cross\nold biddies are asleep, he will cluck softly, and I am to go in and eat\nall I want out of the pan.  You hide on the top of the hen-house; and\nwhile he talks to me, you can pounce on him.  Then I shall be the only\ncock here, and they will have to make me king.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said the fox, much pleased with the plan, and very glad\nthat Peck had a chance to get fatter.\n\nSo when it was night, Peck crept through the broken paling and waited\ntill he heard the signal.  Now, good Cocky had saved up nice bits from\nhis own dinner, and put them in a paper hidden under a bush.  He spread\nthem all out in the barnyard and called; and Peck came in a great hurry\nto eat them, never stopping to say, \"Thank you.\"\n\nCocky stood by talking pleasantly till a little shower came up.\n\n\"Peck, dear, put this nice thick paper over you; then you will be dry,\nand can go on eating. I'll step under that burdock leaf and wait till\nyou are done,\" said Cocky; and Peck was too busy gobbling up the food to\nremember anything else.\n\nNow the fox had just crept up on the hen-house roof; and when he peeped\ndown, there was just light enough to see a white thing bobbing about.\n\n\"Ah, ha! that's Cockyloo; now for a good supper!\"  And with a jump he\nseized Peck by the head before he could explain the mistake.\n\nOne squawk, and the naughty bird was dead; but though the paper fell\noff, and the fox saw what he had done, it was too late, and he began to\neat Peck up, while Cocky flew into a tree and crowed so loud that the\nfarmer ran with his gun and shot the fox before he could squeeze through\nthe hole in the fence with the fowl in his mouth.\n\nAfter that the hens felt safe, for there were no more foxes; and when\nthey heard about Peck they did not mourn at all, but liked Cocky better\nthan ever, and lived happily together, with nothing to trouble them.\n\nKing Cockyloo grew to be a splendid bird,--pure white, with a tall red\ncomb on his head, long spurs on his yellow legs, many fine feathers in\nhis tail, and eyes that shone like diamonds. His crow was so loud that\nit could be heard all over the neighborhood, and people used to say,\n\"Hark! hear Farmer Hunt's cock crow.  Is n't it a sweet sound to wake us\nin the dawn?\"  All the other cocks used to answer him, and there was a\nfine matinee concert every day.\n\nHe was a good brother, and led his five little sisters all about the\nfield, feeding, guarding, and amusing them; for mamma was lame now, and\ncould not stir far from the yard.  It was a pretty sight to see Cocky\nrun home with a worm in his bill or a nice berry, and give it to his\nmother, who was very proud of her handsome son.  Even old Granny\nCockletop, who scolded about everything, liked him; and often said, as\nthe hens sat scuffling in the dust,--\n\n\"A fine bird, my dears, a very fine bird, and I know he will do\nsomething remarkable before he dies.\"\n\nShe was right for once; and this is what he did.\n\nOne day the farmer had to go away and stay all night, leaving the old\nlady alone with two boys.  They were not afraid; for they had a gun, and\nquite longed for a chance to fire it. Now it happened that the farmer\nhad a good deal of money in the house, and some bad men knew it; so they\nwaited for him to go away that they might steal it.  Cocky was picking\nabout in the field when he heard voices behind the wall, and peeping\nthrough a hole saw two shabby men hiding there.\n\n\"At twelve, to-night, when all are asleep, we will creep in at the\nkitchen window and steal the money.  You shall watch on the outside and\nwhistle if any one comes along while I 'm looking for the box where the\nfarmer keeps it,\" said one man.\n\n\"You need n't be afraid; there is no dog, and no one to wake the family,\nso we are quite safe,\" said the other man; and then they both went to\nsleep till night came.\n\nCocky was much troubled, and did n't know what to do.  He could not tell\nthe old lady about it; for he could only cackle and crow, and she would\nnot understand that language.  So he went about all day looking very\nsober, and would not chase grasshoppers, play hide-and-seek under the\nbig burdock leaves, or hunt the cricket with his sisters.  At sunset he\ndid not go into the hen-house with the rest, but flew up to the shed\nroof over the kitchen, and sat there in the cold ready to scare the\nrobbers with a loud crow, as he could do nothing else.\n\nAt midnight the men came creeping along; one stopped outside, and the\nother went in. Presently he handed a basket of silver out, and went back\nfor the money.  Just as he came creeping along with the box, Cocky gave\na loud, long crow, that frightened the robbers and woke the boys.  The\nman with the basket ran away in such a hurry that he tumbled into a\nwell; the other was going to get out of the window, when Cocky flew down\nand picked at his eyes and flapped his wings in his face, so that he\nturned to run some other way, and met the boys, who fired at him and\nshot him in the legs. The old lady popped her head out of the upper\nwindow and rang the dinner-bell, and called \"Fire! fire!\" so loud that\nit roused the neighbors, who came running to see what the trouble could\nbe.\n\nThey fished one man out of the well and picked up the wounded one, and\ncarried them both off to prison.\n\n\"Who caught them?\" asked the people.\n\n\"We did,\" cried the boys, very proud of what they had done; \"but we\nshould n't have waked if our good Cocky had not crowed, and scared the\nrascals.  He deserves half the praise, for this is the second time he\nhas caught a thief.\"\n\nSo Cocky was brought in, and petted, and called a fine fellow; and his\nfamily were so proud of him they clucked about it for weeks afterward.\n\nWhen the robbers were tried, it was found that they were the men who had\nrobbed the bank, and taken a great deal of money; so every one was glad\nto have them shut up for twenty years.  It made a great stir, and people\nwould go to see Cocky and tell how he helped catch the men; and he was\nso brave and handsome, they said at last,--\n\n\"We want a new weather-cock on our courthouse, and instead of an arrow\nlet us have a cock; and he shall look like this fine fellow.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" cried the young folks, much pleased; for they thought Cocky\nought to be remembered in some way.\n\nSo a picture was taken, and Cocky stood very still, with his bright eye\non the man; then one like it was made of brass, and put high up on the\ncourt-house, where all could see the splendid bird shining like gold,\nand twirling about to tell which way the wind was.  The children were\nnever tired of admiring him; and all the hens and chickens went in a\nprocession one moonlight night to see it,--yes, even Mamma Partlet and\nGranny Cockletop, though one was lame and the other very old, so full of\npride were they in the great honor done King Cockyloo.\n\nThis was not the end of his good deeds; and the last was the best of\nall, though it cost him his life.  He ruled for some years, and kept his\nkingdom in good order; for no one would kill him, when many of the other\nfowls were taken for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.  But he did die\nat last; and even then he was good and brave, as you shall hear.\n\nOne of the boys wanted to smoke a pipe, and went behind the hen-house,\nso nobody should see him do such a silly thing.  He thought he heard his\nfather coming, and hid the pipe under the house.  Some straw and dry\nleaves lay about, and took fire, setting the place in a blaze; for the\nboy ran away when he saw the mischief he had done, and the fire got to\nburning nicely before the cries of the poor hens called people to help.\nThe door was locked, and could not be opened, because the key was in the\npocket of the naughty boy; so the farmer got an axe and chopped down the\nwall, letting the poor biddies fly out, squawking and smoking.\n\n\"Where is Cocky?\" cried the other boy, as he counted the hens and missed\nthe king of the farmyard.\n\n\"Burnt up, I 'm afraid,\" said the farmer, who was throwing water on the\nflames.\n\nAlas! yes, he was; for when the fire was out they found good old Cocky\nsitting on a nest, with his wide wings spread over some little chicks\nwhose mother had left them.  They were too small to run away, and sat\nchirping sadly till Cocky covered and kept them safe, though the smoke\nchoked _him_ to death.\n\nEvery one was very sorry; and the children gave the good bird a fine\nfuneral, and buried him in the middle of the field, with a green mound\nover him, and a white stone, on which was written,--\n\n    Here lies the bravest cock that ever crew:\n    We mourn for him with sorrow true.\n    Now nevermore at dawn his music shall we hear,\n    Waking the world like trumpet shrill and clear.\n    The hens all hang their heads, the chickens sadly peep;\n    The boys look sober, and the girls all weep.\n    Good-by, dear Cocky: sleep and rest.\n    With grass and daisies on your faithful breast;\n    And when you wake, brave bird, so good and true,\n    Clap your white wings and crow, \"Cock-a-doodle-doo.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The lion walked awhile to rest himself.--PAGE 118.]\n\n\n\n                                  VI.\n\n                            ROSY'S JOURNEY.\n\n\nRosy was a nice little girl who lived with her mother in a small house\nin the woods. They were very poor, for the father had gone away to dig\ngold, and did not come back; so they had to work hard to get food to eat\nand clothes to wear.  The mother spun yarn when she was able, for she\nwas often sick, and Rosy did all she could to help.  She milked the red\ncow and fed the hens; dug the garden, and went to town to sell the yarn\nand the eggs.\n\nShe was very good and sweet, and every one loved her; but the neighbors\nwere all poor, and could do little to help the child.  So, when at last\nthe mother died, the cow and hens and house had to be sold to pay the\ndoctor and the debts.  Then Rosy was left all alone, with no mother, no\nhome, and no money to buy clothes and dinners with.\n\n\"What will you do?\" said the people, who were very sorry for her.\n\n\"I will go and find my father,\" answered Rosy, bravely.\n\n\"But he is far away, and you don't know just where he is, up among the\nmountains.  Stay with us and spin on your little wheel, and we will buy\nthe yarn, and take care of you, dear little girl,\" said the kind people.\n\n\"No, I must go; for mother told me to, and my father will be glad to\nhave me.  I 'm not afraid, for every one is good to me,\" said Rosy,\ngratefully.\n\nThen the people gave her a warm red cloak, and a basket with a little\nloaf and bottle of milk in it, and some pennies to buy more to eat when\nthe bread was gone.  They all kissed her, and wished her good luck; and\nshe trotted away through the wood to find her father.\n\nFor some days she got on very well; for the wood-cutters were kind, and\nlet her sleep in their huts, and gave her things to eat.  But by and by\nshe came to lonely places, where there were no houses; and then she was\nafraid, and used to climb up in the trees to sleep, and had to eat\nberries and leaves, like the Children in the Wood.\n\nShe made a fire at night, so wild beasts would not come near her; and if\nshe met other travellers, she was so young and innocent no one had the\nheart to hurt her.  She was kind to everything she met; so all little\ncreatures were friends to her, as we shall see.\n\nOne day, as she was resting by a river, she saw a tiny fish on the bank,\nnearly dead for want of water.\n\n\"Poor thing! go and be happy again,\" she said, softly taking him up, and\ndropping him into the nice cool river.\n\n\"Thank you, dear child; I '11 not forget, but will help you some day,\"\nsaid the fish, when he had taken a good drink, and felt better.\n\n\"Why, how can a tiny fish help such a great girl as I am?\" laughed Rosy.\n\n\"Wait and see,\" answered the fish, as he swam away with a flap of his\nlittle tail.\n\nRosy went on her way, and forgot all about it. But she never forgot to\nbe kind; and soon after, as she was looking in the grass for\nstrawberries, she found a field-mouse with a broken leg.\n\n\"Help me to my nest, or my babies will starve,\" cried the poor thing.\n\n\"Yes, I will; and bring these berries so that you can keep still till\nyour leg is better, and have something to eat.\"\n\nRosy took the mouse carefully in her little hand, and tied up the broken\nleg with a leaf of spearmint and a blade of grass.  Then she carried her\nto the nest under the roots of an old tree, where four baby mice were\nsqueaking sadly for their mother.  She made a bed of thistledown for the\nsick mouse, and put close within reach all the berries and seeds she\ncould find, and brought an acorn-cup of water from the spring, so they\ncould be comfortable.\n\n\"Good little Rosy, I shall pay you for all this kindness some day,\" said\nthe mouse, when she was done.\n\n\"I 'm afraid you are not big enough to do much,\" answered Rosy, as she\nran off to go on her journey.\n\n\"Wait and see,\" called the mouse; and all the little ones squeaked, as\nif they said the same.\n\nSome time after, as Rosy lay up in a tree, waiting for the sun to rise,\nshe heard a great buzzing close by, and saw a fly caught in a cobweb\nthat went from one twig to another.  The big spider was trying to spin\nhim all up, and the poor fly was struggling to get away before his legs\nand wings were helpless.\n\nRosy put up her finger and pulled down the web, and the spider ran away\nat once to hide under the leaves.  But the happy fly sat on Rosy's hand,\ncleaning his wings, and buzzing so loud for joy that it sounded like a\nlittle trumpet.\n\n\"You 've saved my life, and I 'll save yours, if I can,\" said the fly,\ntwinkling his bright eye at Rosy.\n\n\"You silly thing, you can't help me,\" answered Rosy, climbing down,\nwhile the fly buzzed away, saying, like the mouse and fish,--\n\n\"Wait and see; wait and see.\"\n\nRosy trudged on and on, till at last she came to the sea.  The mountains\nwere on the other side; but how should she get over the wide water?  No\nships were there, and she had no money to hire one if there had been\nany; so she sat on the shore, very tired and sad, and cried a few big\ntears as salt as the sea.\n\n\"Hullo!\" called a bubbly sort of voice close by; and the fish popped up\nhis head.\n\nRosy ran to see what he wanted.\n\n\"I 've come to help you over the water,\" said the fish.\n\n\"How can you, when I want a ship, and some one to show me the way?\"\nanswered Rosy.\n\n\"I shall just call my friend the whale, and he will take you over better\nthan a ship, because he won't get wrecked.  Don't mind if he spouts and\nflounces about a good deal, he is only playing; so you need n't be\nfrightened.\"\n\nDown dived the little fish, and Rosy waited to see what would happen;\nfor she did n't believe such a tiny thing could really bring a whale to\nhelp her.\n\nPresently what looked like a small island came floating through the sea;\nand turning round, so that its tail touched the shore, the whale said,\nin a roaring voice that made her jump,--\n\n\"Come aboard, little girl, and hold on tight. I 'll carry you wherever\nyou like.\"\n\nIt was rather a slippery bridge, and Rosy was rather scared at this big,\nstrange boat; but she got safely over, and held on fast; then, with a\nroll and a plunge, off went the whale, spouting two fountains, while his\ntail steered him like the rudder of a ship.\n\nRosy liked it, and looked down into the deep sea, where all sorts of\nqueer and lovely things were to be seen.  Great fishes came and looked\nat her; dolphins played near to amuse her; the pretty nautilus sailed by\nin its transparent boat; and porpoises made her laugh with their rough\nplay.  Mermaids brought her pearls and red coral to wear, sea-apples to\neat, and at night sung her to sleep with their sweet lullabies.\n\nSo she had a very pleasant voyage, and ran on shore with many thanks to\nthe good whale, who gave a splendid spout, and swam away.\n\nThen Rosy travelled along till she came to a desert.  Hundreds of miles\nof hot sand, with no trees or brooks or houses.\n\n\"I never can go that way,\" she said; \"I should starve, and soon be worn\nout walking in that hot sand.  What _shall_ I do?\"\n\n      \"Quee, quee!\n      Wait and see:\n    You were good to me;\n      So here I come,\n      From my little home,\n    To help you willingly,\"\n\nsaid a friendly voice; and there was the mouse, looking at her with its\nbright eyes full of gratitude.\n\n\"Why, you dear little thing, I 'm very glad to see you; but I 'm sure\nyou can't help me across this desert,\" said Rosy, stroking its soft\nback.\n\n\"That's easy enough,\" answered the mouse, rubbing its paws briskly.  \"I\n'll just call my friend the lion; he lives here, and he 'll take you\nacross with pleasure.\"\n\n\"Oh, I 'm afraid he 'd rather eat me.  How dare you call that fierce\nbeast?\" cried Rosy, much surprised.\n\n\"I gnawed him out of a net once, and he promised to help me.  He is a\nnoble animal, and he will keep his word.\"\n\nThen the mouse sang, in its shrill little voice,--\n\n      \"O lion, grand,\n      Come over the sand,\n    And help me now, I pray!\n      Here 's a little lass,\n      Who wants to pass;\n    Please carry her on her way.\"\n\n\nIn a moment a loud roar was heard, and a splendid yellow lion, with\nfiery eyes and a long mane, came bounding over the sand to meet them.\n\n\"What can I do for you, tiny friend?\" he said, looking at the mouse, who\nwas not a bit frightened, though Rosy hid behind a rock, expecting every\nmoment to be eaten.\n\nMousie told him, and the good lion said pleasantly,--\n\n\"I 'll take the child along.  Come on, my dear; sit on my back and hold\nfast to my mane, for I 'm a swift horse, and you might fall off.\"\n\nThen he crouched down like a great cat, and Rosy climbed up, for he was\nso kind she could not fear him; and away they went, racing over the sand\ntill her hair whistled in the wind.  As soon as she got her breath, she\nthought it great fun to go flying along, while other lions and tigers\nrolled their fierce eyes at her, but dared not touch her; for this lion\nwas king of all, and she was quite safe.  They met a train of camels\nwith loads on their backs; and the people travelling with them wondered\nwhat queer thing was riding that fine lion.  It looked like a very large\nmonkey in a red cloak, but went so fast they never saw that it was a\nlittle girl.\n\n\"How glad I am that I was kind to the mouse; for if the good little\ncreature had not helped me, I never could have crossed this desert,\"\nsaid Rosy, as the lion walked awhile to rest himself.\n\n\"And if the mouse had not gnawed me out of the net I never should have\ncome at her call.  You see, little people can conquer big ones, and make\nthem gentle and friendly by kindness,\" answered the lion.\n\nThen away they went again, faster than ever, till they came to the green\ncountry.  Rosy thanked the good beast, and he ran back; for if any one\nsaw him, they would try to catch him.\n\n\"Now I have only to climb up these mountains and find father,\" thought\nRosy, as she saw the great hills before her, with many steep roads\nwinding up to the top; and far, far away rose the smoke from the huts\nwhere the men lived and dug for gold.  She started off bravely, but took\nthe wrong road, and after climbing a long while found the path ended in\nrocks over which she could not go.  She was very tired and hungry; for\nher food was gone, and there were no houses in this wild place.  Night\nwas coming on, and it was so cold she was afraid she would freeze before\nmorning, but dared not go on lest she should fall down some steep hole\nand be killed. Much discouraged, she lay down on the moss and cried a\nlittle; then she tried to sleep, but something kept buzzing in her ear,\nand looking carefully she saw a fly prancing about on the moss, as if\nanxious to make her listen to his song,--\n\n      \"Rosy, my dear,\n      Don't cry,--I 'm here\n    To help you all I can.\n      I 'm only a fly,\n      But you 'll see that I\n    Will keep my word like a man.\"\n\n\nRosy could n't help laughing to hear the brisk little fellow talk as if\nhe could do great things; but she was very glad to see him and hear his\ncheerful song, so she held out her finger, and while he sat there told\nhim all her troubles.\n\n\"Bless your heart! my friend the eagle will carry you right up the\nmountains and leave you at your father's door,\" cried the fly; and he\nwas off with a flirt of his gauzy wings, for he meant what he said.\n\nRosy was ready for her new horse, and not at all afraid after the whale\nand the lion; so when a great eagle swooped down and alighted near her,\nshe just looked at his sharp claws, big eyes, and crooked beak as coolly\nas if he had been a cock-robin.\n\nHe liked her courage, and said kindly in his rough voice,--\n\n\"Hop up, little girl, and sit among my feathers. Hold me fast round the\nneck, or you may grow dizzy and get a fall.\"\n\nRosy nestled down among the thick gray feathers, and put both arms round\nhis neck; and whiz they went, up, up, up, higher and higher, till the\ntrees looked like grass, they were so far below.  At first it was very\ncold, and Rosy cuddled deeper into her feather bed; then, as they came\nnearer to the sun, it grew warm, and she peeped out to see the huts\nstanding in a green spot on the top of the mountain.\n\n\"Here we are.  You'll find all the men are down in the mine at this\ntime.  They won't come up till morning; so you will have to wait for\nyour father.  Good-by; good luck, my dear.\"  And the eagle soared away,\nhigher still, to his nest among the clouds.\n\nIt was night now, but fires were burning in all the houses; so Rosy went\nfrom hut to hut trying to find her father's, that she might rest while\nshe waited: at last in one the picture of a pretty little girl hung on\nthe wall, and under it was written, \"My Rosy.\"  Then she knew that this\nwas the right place; and she ate some supper, put on more wood, and went\nto bed, for she wanted to be fresh when her father came in the morning.\n\nWhile she slept a storm came on,--thunder rolled and lightning flashed,\nthe wind blew a gale, and rain poured,--but Rosy never waked till dawn,\nwhen she heard men shouting outside,--\n\n\"Run, run!  The river is rising!  We shall all be drowned!\"\n\nRosy ran out to see what was the matter, though the wind nearly blew her\naway; she found that so much rain had made the river overflow till it\nbegan to wash the banks away.\n\n\"What shall I do? what shall I do?\" cried Rosy, watching the men rush\nabout like ants, getting their bags of gold ready to carry off before\nthe water swept them away, if it became a flood.\n\nAs if in answer to her cry, Rosy heard a voice say close by,--\n\n      \"Splash, dash!\n      Rumble and crash!\n    Here come the beavers gay;\n      See what they do,\n      Rosy, for you,\n    Because you helped me one day.\"\n\nAnd there in the water was the little fish swimming about, while an army\nof beavers began to pile up earth and stones in a high bank to keep the\nriver back.  How they worked, digging and heaping with teeth and claws,\nand beating the earth hard with their queer tails like shovels!\n\nRosy and the men watched them work, glad to be safe, while the storm\ncleared up; and by the time the dam was made, all danger was over. Rosy\nlooked into the faces of the rough men, hoping her father was there, and\nwas just going to ask about him, when a great shouting rose again, and\nall began to run to the pit hole, saying,--\n\n\"The sand has fallen in!  The poor fellows will be smothered!  How can\nwe get them out? how can we get them out?\"\n\nRosy ran too, feeling as if her heart would break; for her father was\ndown in the mine, and would die soon if air did not come to him.  The\nmen dug as hard as they could; but it was a long job, and they feared\nthey would not be in time.\n\nSuddenly hundreds of moles came scampering along, and began to burrow\ndown through the earth, making many holes for air to go in; for they\nknow how to build galleries through the ground better than men can.\nEvery one was so surprised they stopped to look on; for the dirt flew\nlike rain as the busy little fellows scratched and bored as if making an\nunderground railway.\n\n\"What does it mean?\" said the men.  \"They work faster than we can, and\nbetter; but who sent them?  Is this strange little girl a fairy?\"\n\nBefore Rosy could speak, all heard a shrill, small voice singing,--\n\n      \"They come at my call;\n      And though they are small,\n    They 'll dig the passage clear:\n      I never forget;\n      We 'll save them yet,\n    For love of Rosy dear.\"\n\nThen all saw a little gray mouse sitting on a stone, waving her tail\nabout, and pointing with her tiny paw to show the moles where to dig.\n\nThe men laughed; and Rosy was telling them who she was, when a cry came\nfrom the pit, and they saw that the way was clear so they could pull the\nburied men up.  In a minute they got ropes, and soon had ten poor\nfellows safe on the ground; pale and dirty, but all alive, and all\nshouting as if they were crazy,--\n\n\"Tom's got it!  Tom's got it!  Hooray for Tom!\"\n\n\"What is it?\" cried the others; and then they saw Tom come up with the\nbiggest lump of gold ever found in the mountains.\n\nEvery one was glad of Tom's luck; for he was a good man, and had worked\na long time, and been sick, and could n't go back to his wife and child.\nWhen he saw Rosy, he dropped the lump, and caught her up, saying,--\n\n\"My little girl! she 's better than a million pounds of gold.\"\n\nThen Rosy was very happy, and went back to the hut, and had a lovely\ntime telling her father all about her troubles and her travels. He cried\nwhen he heard that the poor mother was dead before she could have any of\nthe good things the gold would buy them.\n\n\"We will go away and be happy together in the pleasantest home I can\nfind, and never part any more, my darling,\" said the father, kissing\nRosy as she sat on his knee with her arms round his neck.\n\nShe was just going to say something very sweet to comfort him, when a\nfly lit on her arm and buzzed very loud,--\n\n      \"Don't drive me away,\n      But hear what I say:\n    Bad men want the gold;\n      They will steal it to-night,\n      And you must take flight;\n    So be quiet and busy and bold.\"\n\n\n\"I was afraid some one would take my lump away.  I 'll pack up at once,\nand we will creep off while the men are busy at work; though I 'm afraid\nwe can't go fast enough to be safe, if they miss us and come after,\"\nsaid Tom, bundling his gold into a bag and looking very sober; for some\nof the miners were wild fellows, and might kill him for the sake of that\ngreat lump.\n\nBut the fly sang again,--\n\n      \"Slip away with me,\n      And you will see\n    What a wise little thing am I;\n      For the road I show\n      No man can know,\n    Since it's up in the pathless sky.\"\n\n\nThen they followed Buzz to a quiet nook in the wood; and there were the\neagle and his mate waiting to fly away with them so fast and so far that\nno one could follow.  Rosy and the bag of gold were put on the mother\neagle; Tom sat astride the king bird; and away they flew to a great\ncity, where the little girl and her father lived happily together all\ntheir lives.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Poor Billy dangling from a bough, high above the ground.\nPAGE 146.]\n\n\n\n                                  VII.\n\n                           HOW THEY RAN AWAY.\n\n\nTwo little boys sat on the fence whittling arrows one fine day.  Said\none little boy to the other little boy,--\n\n\"Let's do something jolly.\"\n\n\"All right.  What will we do?\"\n\n\"Run off to the woods and be hunters.\"\n\n\"What can we hunt?\"\n\n\"Bears and foxes.\"\n\n\"Mullin says there ain't any round here.\"\n\n\"Well, we can shoot squirrels and snare woodchucks.\"\n\n\"Have n't got any guns and trap.\"\n\n\"We 've got our bows, and I found an old trap behind the barn.\"\n\n\"What will we eat?\"\n\n\"Here 's our lunch; and when that's gone we can roast the squirrels and\ncook the fish on a stick.  I know how.\"\n\n\"Where will you get the fire?\"\n\n\"Got matches in my pocket.\"\n\n\"I 've got a lot of things we could use.  Let's see.\"\n\nAnd as if satisfied at last, cautious Billy displayed his treasures,\nwhile bold Tommy did the same.\n\nBesides the two knives there were strings, nails, matches, a piece of\nputty, fish-hooks, and two very dirty handkerchiefs.\n\n\"There, sir, that 's a first-rate fit-out for hunters; and with the\njolly basket of lunch Mrs. Mullin gave us, we can get on tip-top for two\nor three days,\" said Tommy, eager to be off.\n\n\"Where shall we sleep?\" asked Billy, who liked to be comfortable both\nnight and day.\n\n\"Oh, up in trees or on beds of leaves, like the fellows in our books.\nIf you are afraid, stay at home; I 'm going to have no end of a good\ntime.\"  And Tommy crammed the things back into his pockets as if there\nwere no time to lose.\n\n\"Pooh!  I ain't afraid.  Come on!\"  And jumping down Billy caught up his\nrod, rather ashamed of his many questions.\n\nNo one was looking at them, and they might have walked quietly off; but\nthat the \"running away\" might be all right, both raced down the road,\ntumbled over a wall, and dashed into the woods as if a whole tribe of\nwild Indians were after them.\n\n\"Do you know the way?\" panted Billy, when at last they stopped for\nbreath.\n\n\"Yes, it winds right up the mountain; but we 'd better not keep to it,\nor some one will see us and take us back.  We are going to be _real_\nhunters and have adventures; so we must get lost, and find our way by\nthe sun and the stars,\" answered Tommy, who had read so many Boys' Books\nhis little head was a jumble of Texan Rangers, African Explorers, and\nBuffalo Bills; and he burned to outdo them all.\n\n\"What will our mothers say if we really get lost?\" asked Billy, always\nready with a question.\n\n\"Mine won't fuss.  She lets me do what I like.\"\n\nThat was true; for Tommy's poor mamma was tired of trying to keep the\nlively little fellow in order, and had got used to seeing him come out\nof all his scrapes without much harm.\n\n\"Mine will be scared; she 's always afraid I 'm going to get hurt, so I\n'm careful.  But I guess I 'll risk it, and have some fun to tell about\nwhen we go home,\" said Billy, trudging after Captain Tommy, who always\ntook the lead.\n\nThese eleven-year-old boys were staying with their mothers at a\nfarm-house up among the mountains; and having got tired of the tame\nbears, the big barn, the trout brook, the thirty colts at pasture, and\nthe society of the few little girls and younger boys at the hotel near\nby, these fine fellows longed to break loose and \"rough it in the bush,\"\nas the hunters did in their favorite stories.\n\nAway they went, deeper and deeper into the great forest that covered the\nside of the mountain.  A pleasant place that August day; for it was cool\nand green, with many brooks splashing over the rocks, or lying in brown\npools under the ferns.  Squirrels chattered and raced in the tall pines;\nnow and then a gray rabbit skipped out of sight among the brakes, or a\nstrange bird flew by.  Here and there blackberries grew in the open\nplaces, sassafras bushes were plentiful, and black-birch bark was ready\nfor chewing.\n\n\"Don't you call this nice?\" asked Tommy, pausing at last in a little\ndell where a noisy brook came tumbling down the mountain side, and the\npines sung overhead.\n\n\"Yes; but I 'm awful hungry.  Let's rest and eat our lunch,\" said Billy,\nsitting down on a cushion of moss.\n\n\"You always want to be stuffing and resting,\" answered sturdy Tommy, who\nliked to be moving all the time.\n\nHe took the fishing-basket, which hung over his shoulder by a strap, and\nopened it carefully; for good Mrs. Mullin had packed a nice lunch of\nbread and butter, cake and peaches, with a bottle of milk, and two large\npickles slipped in on the sly to please the boys.\n\nTommy's face grew very sober as he looked in, for all he saw was a box\nof worms for bait and an old jacket.\n\n\"By George! we 've got the wrong basket. This is Mullin's, and he 's\ngone off with our prog.  Won't he be mad?\"\n\n\"Not as mad as I am.  Why did n't you look?  You are always in such a\nhurry to start. What _shall_ we do now without anything to eat?\" whined\nBilly; for losing his lunch was a dreadful blow to him.\n\n\"We shall have to catch some fish and eat blackberries.  Which will you\ndo, old cry-baby?\" said Tommy, laughing at the other boy's dismal face.\n\n\"I 'll fish; I 'm so tired I can't go scratching round after berries.  I\ndon't love 'em, either.\"  And Billy began to fix his line and bait his\nhook.\n\n\"Lucky we got the worms; you can eat 'em if you can't wait for fish,\"\nsaid Tommy, bustling about to empty the basket and pile up their few\npossessions in a heap.  \"There's a quiet pool below here, you go and\nfish there.  I 'll pick the berries, and then show you how to get dinner\nin the woods.  This is our camp; so fly round and do your best.\"\n\nThen Tommy ran off to a place near by where he had seen the berries,\nwhile Billy found a comfortable nook by the pool, and sat scowling at\nthe water so crossly, it was a wonder any trout came to his hook.  But\nthe fat worms tempted several small ones, and he cheered up at the\nprospect of food.  Tommy whistled while he picked, and in half an hour\ncame back with two quarts of nice berries and an armful of dry sticks\nfor the fire.\n\n\"We 'll have a jolly dinner, after all,\" he said, as the flames went\ncrackling up, and the dry leaves made a pleasant smell.\n\n\"Got four, but don't see how we 'll ever cook 'em; no frying-pan,\"\ngrumbled Billy, throwing down the four little trout, which he had half\ncleaned.\n\n\"Don't want any.  Broil 'em on the coals, or toast 'em on a forked\nstick.  I 'll show you how,\" said cheerful Tommy, whittling away, and\nfeeding his fire as much like a real hunter as a small boy could be.\n\nWhile he worked, Billy ate berries and sighed for bread and butter.  At\nlast, after much trouble, two of the trout were half cooked and eagerly\neaten by the hungry boys.  But they were very different from the nice\nbrown ones Mrs. Mullin gave them; for in spite of Tommy's struggles they\nwould fall in the ashes, and there was no salt to eat with them.  By the\ntime the last were toasted, the young hunters were so hungry they could\nhave eaten anything, and not a berry was left.\n\n\"I set the trap down there, for I saw a hole among the vines, and I\nshould n't wonder if we got a rabbit or something,\" said Tommy, when the\nlast bone was polished.  \"You go and catch some more fish, and I 'll see\nif I have caught any old chap as he went home to dinner.\"\n\nOff ran Tommy; and the other boy went slowly back to the brook, wishing\nwith all his might he was at home eating sweet corn and berry pie.\n\nThe trout had evidently gone to their dinners, for not one bite did poor\nBilly get; and he was just falling asleep when a loud shout gave him\nsuch a fright that he tumbled into the brook up to his knees.\n\n\"I 've got him!  Come and see!  He's a bouncer,\" roared Tommy, from the\nberry bushes some way off.\n\nBilly scrambled out, and went as fast as his wet boots would let him, to\nsee what the prize was.  He found Tommy dancing wildly round a fat gray\nanimal, who was fighting to get his paws out of the trap, and making a\nqueer noise as he struggled about.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Billy, getting behind a tree as fast as possible;\nfor the thing looked fierce, and he was very timid.\n\n\"A raccoon, I guess, or a big woodchuck. Won't his fur make a fine cap?\nI guess the other fellows will wish they 'd come with us,\" said Tommy,\nprancing to and fro, without the least idea what to do with the\ncreature.\n\n\"He 'll bite.  We 'd better run away and wait till he 's dead,\" said\nBilly.\n\n\"Wish he 'd got his head in, then I could carry him off; but he does\nlook savage, so we'll have to leave him awhile, and get him when we come\nback.  But he's a real beauty.\"  And Tommy looked proudly at the bunch\nof gray fur scuffling in the sand.\n\n\"Can we ever eat him?\" asked hungry Billy, ready for a fried crocodile\nif he could get it.\n\n\"If he 's a raccoon, we can; but I don't know about woodchucks.  The\nfellows in my books don't seem to have caught any.  He 's nice and fat;\nwe might try him when he 's dead,\" said Tommy, who cared more for the\nskin to show than the best meal ever cooked.\n\nThe sound of a gun echoing through the wood gave Tommy a good idea,--\n\n\"Let's find the man and get him to shoot this chap; then we need n't\nwait, but skin him right away, and eat him too.\"\n\nOff they went to the camp; and catching up their things, the two hunters\nhurried away in the direction of the sound, feeling glad to know that\nsome one was near them, for two or three hours of wood life made them a\nlittle homesick.\n\nThey ran and scrambled, and listened and called; but not until they had\ngone a long way up the mountain did they find the man, resting in an old\nhut left by the lumbermen.  The remains of his dinner were spread on the\nfloor, and he lay smoking, and reading a newspaper, while his dog dozed\nat his feet, close to a well-filled game-bag.\n\nHe looked surprised when two dirty, wet little boys suddenly appeared\nbefore him,--one grinning cheerfully, the other looking very dismal and\nscared as the dog growled and glared at them as if they were two\nrabbits.\n\n\"Hollo!\" said the man.\n\n\"Hollo!\" answered Tommy.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the man.\n\n\"Hunters,\" said Tommy.\n\n\"Had good luck?\" And the man laughed.\n\n\"First-rate.  Got a raccoon in our trap, and we want you to come and\nshoot him,\" answered Tommy, proudly.\n\n\"Sure?\" said the man, looking interested as well as amused.\n\n\"No; but I think so.\"\n\n\"What's he like?\"\n\nTommy described him, and was much disappointed when the man lay down\nagain, saying, with another laugh,--\n\n\"It's a woodchuck; he's no good.\"\n\n\"But I want the skin.\"\n\n\"Then don't shoot him, let him die; that's better for the skin,\" said\nthe man, who was tired and did n't want to stop for such poor game.\n\nAll this time Billy had been staring hard at the sandwiches and bread\nand cheese on the floor, and sniffing at them, as the dog sniffed at\nhim.\n\n\"Want some grub?\" asked the man, seeing the hungry look.\n\n\"I just do!  We left our lunch, and I 've only had two little trout and\nsome old berries since breakfast,\" answered Billy, with tears in his\neyes and a hand on his stomach.\n\n\"Eat away then; I 'm done, and don't want the stuff.\"  And the man took\nup his paper as if glad to be let alone.\n\nIt was lucky that the dog had been fed, for in ten minutes nothing was\nleft but the napkin; and the boys sat picking up the crumbs, much\nrefreshed, but ready for more.\n\n\"Better be going home, my lads; it's pretty cold on the mountain after\nsunset, and you are a long way from town,\" said the man, who had peeped\nat them over his paper now and then, and saw, in spite of the dirt and\nrips, that they were not farmer boys.\n\n\"We don't live in town; we are at Mullin's, in the valley.  No hurry; we\nknow the way, and we want to have some sport first.  You seem to have\ndone well,\" answered Tommy, looking enviously from the gun to the\ngame-bag, out of which hung a rabbit's head and a squirrel's tail.\n\n\"Pretty fair; but I want a shot at the bear. People tell me there is one\nup here, and I 'm after him; for he kills the sheep, and might hurt some\nof the young folks round here,\" said the man, loading his gun with a\nvery sober air; for he wanted to get rid of the boys and send them home.\n\nBilly looked alarmed; but Tommy's brown face beamed with joy as he said\neagerly,--\n\n\"I hope you 'll get him.  I 'd rather shoot a bear than any other animal\nbut a lion.  We don't have those here, and bears are scarce. Mullin said\nhe had n't heard of one for a long time; so this must be a young one,\nfor they killed the big one two years ago.\"\n\nThat was true, and the man knew it.  He did not really expect or want to\nmeet a bear, but thought the idea of one would send the little fellows\nhome at once.  Finding one of them was unscared, he laughed, and said\nwith a nod to Tommy,--\n\n\"If I had time I 'd take you along, and show you how to hunt; but this\nfat friend of yours could n't rough it with us, and we can't leave him\nalone; so go ahead your own way.  Only I wouldn't climb any higher, for\namong the rocks you are sure to get hurt or lost.\"\n\n\"Oh, I say, let's go!  Such fun, Billy!  I know you'll like it.  A real\ngun and dog and hunter!  Come on, and don't be a molly-coddle,\" cried\nTommy, wild to go.\n\n\"I won't!  I'm tired, and I'm going home; you can go after your old\nbears if you want to. I don't think much of hunting anyway, and wish I\nhad n't come,\" growled Billy, very cross at being left out, yet with no\ndesire to scramble any more.\n\n\"Can't stop.  Good-by.  Get along home, and some day I 'll come and take\nyou out with me, little Leatherstocking,\" said the man, striding off\nwith the dear gun and dog and bag, leaving Billy to wonder what he meant\nby that queer name, and Tommy to console himself with the promise made\nhim.\n\n\"Let's go and see how old Chucky gets on,\" he said good-naturedly, when\nthe man vanished.\n\n\"Not till I 'm rested.  I can get a good nap on this pile of hay; then\nwe'll go home before it's late,\" answered lazy Billy, settling himself\non the rough bed the lumbermen had used.\n\n\"I just wish I had a boy with some go in him; you ain't much better than\na girl,\" sighed Tommy, walking off to a pine-tree where some squirrels\nseemed to be having a party, they chattered and raced up and down at\nsuch a rate.\n\nHe tried his bow and shot all his arrows many times in vain, for the\nlively creatures gave him no chance.  He had better luck with a brown\nbird who sat in a bush and was hit full in the breast with the sharpest\narrow.  The poor thing fluttered and fell, and its blood wet the green\nleaves as it lay dying on the grass.  Tommy was much pleased at first;\nbut as he stood watching its bright eye grow dim and its pretty brown\nwings stop fluttering, he felt sorry that its happy little life was so\ncruelly ended, and ashamed that his thoughtless fun had given so much\npain.\n\n\"I 'll never shoot another bird except hawks after chickens, and I won't\nbrag about this one. It was so tame, and trusted me, I was very mean to\nkill it.\"\n\nAs he thought this, Tommy smoothed the ruffled feathers of the dead\nthrush, and, making a little grave under the pine, buried it wrapped in\ngreen leaves, and left it there where its mate could sing over it, and\nno rude hands disturb its rest.\n\n\"I 'll tell mamma and she will understand; but I _won't_ tell Billy.  He\nis such a greedy old chap he'll say I ought to have kept the poor bird\nto eat,\" thought Tommy, as he went back to the hut, and sat there,\nrestringing his bow, till Billy woke up, much more amiable for his\nsleep.\n\nThey tried to find the woodchuck, but lost their way, and wandered\ndeeper into the great forest till they came to a rocky place and could\ngo no farther.  They climbed up and tumbled down, turned back and went\nround, looked at the sun and knew it was late, chewed sassafras bark and\ncheckerberry leaves for supper, and grew more and more worried and tired\nas hour after hour went by and they saw no end to woods and rocks.  Once\nor twice they heard the hunter's gun far away, and called and tried to\nfind him.\n\nTommy scolded Billy for not going with the man, who knew his way and was\nprobably safe in the valley when the last faint shot came up to them.\nBilly cried, and reproached Tommy for proposing to run away; and both\nfelt very homesick for their mothers and their good safe beds at Farmer\nMullin's.\n\nThe sun set, and found them in a dreary place full of rocks and blasted\ntrees half-way up the mountain.  They were so tired they could hardly\nwalk, and longed to lie down anywhere to sleep; but, remembering the\nhunter's story of the bear, they were afraid to do it, till Tommy\nsuggested climbing a tree, after making a fire at the foot of it to\nscare away the bear, lest he climb too and get them.\n\nBut, alas! the matches were left in their first camp; so they decided to\ntake turns to sleep and watch, since it was plain that they must spend\nthe night there.  Billy went up first, and creeping into a good notch of\nthe bare tree tried to sleep, while brave Tommy, armed with a big stick,\nmarched to and fro below.  Every few minutes a trembling voice would\ncall from above, \"Is anything coming?\" and an anxious voice would answer\nfrom below, \"Not yet. Hurry up and go to sleep!  I want my turn.\"\n\nAt last Billy began to snore, and then Tommy felt so lonely he could n't\nbear it; so he climbed to a lower branch, and sat nodding and trying to\nkeep watch, till he too fell fast asleep, and the early moon saw the\npoor boys roosting there like two little owls.\n\nA loud cry, a scrambling overhead, and then a great shaking and howling\nwaked Tommy so suddenly that he lost his wits for a moment and did not\nknow where he was.\n\n\"The bear! the bear! don't let him get me! Tommy, Tommy, come and make\nhim let go,\" cried Billy, filling the quiet night with dismal howls.\n\nTommy looked up, expecting to behold a large bear eating his unhappy\nfriend; but the moonlight showed him nothing but poor Billy dangling\nfrom a bough, high above the ground, caught by his belt when he fell.\nHe had been dreaming of bears, and rolled off his perch; so there he\nhung, kicking and wailing, half awake, and so scared it was long before\nTommy could make him believe that he was quite safe.\n\nHow to get him down was the next question. The branch was not strong\nenough to bear Tommy, though he climbed up and tried to unhook poor\nBilly.  The belt was firmly twisted at the back, and Billy could not\nreach to undo it, nor could he get his legs round the branch to pull\nhimself up.  There seemed no way but to unbuckle the belt and drop.\nThat he was afraid to try; for the ground was hard, and the fall a high\none.  Fortunately both belt and buckle were strong; so he hung safely,\nthough very uncomfortably, while Tommy racked his boyish brain to find a\nway to help him.\n\nBilly had just declared that he should be cut in two very soon if\nsomething was not done for him, and Tommy was in despair, when they\nthought they heard a far-off shout, and both answered it till their\nthroats were nearly split with screaming.\n\n\"I seem to see a light moving round down that way,\" cried Billy from his\nhook, pointing toward the valley.\n\n\"They are looking for us, but they won't hear us.  I 'll run and holler\nlouder, and bring 'em up here,\" answered Tommy, glad to do anything that\nwould put an end to this dreadful state of things.\n\n\"Don't leave me!  I may fall and be killed! The bear might come!  Don't\ngo! don't go!\" wailed Billy, longing to drop, but afraid.\n\n\"I won't go far, and I 'll come back as quick as I can.  You are safe up\nthere.  Hold on, and we 'll soon get you down,\" answered Tommy, rushing\naway helter-skelter, never minding where he went, and too much excited\nto care for any damage.\n\nThe moon was bright on the blasted trees; but when he came down among\nthe green pines, it grew dark, and he often stumbled and fell. Never\nminding bumps and bruises, he scrambled over rocks, leaped fallen\ntrunks, floundered through brooks, and climbed down steep places, till,\nwith a reckless jump, he went heels over head into a deep hole, and lay\nthere for a moment stunned by the fall.  It was an old bear-trap, long\nunused, and fortunately well carpeted with dead leaves, or poor Tommy\nwould have broken his bones.\n\nWhen he came to himself he was so used up that he lay still for some\ntime in a sort of daze, too tired to know or care about anything, only\ndimly conscious that somebody was lost in a tree or a well, and that, on\nthe whole, running away was not all fun.\n\nBy and by the sound of a gun roused him; and remembering poor Billy, he\ntried to get out of the pit,--for the moon showed him where he was.  But\nit was too deep, and he was too stiff with weariness and the fall to be\nvery nimble.  So he shouted, and whistled, and raged about very like a\nlittle bear caught in the pit.\n\nIt is very difficult to find a lost person on these great mountains, and\nmany wander for hours not far from help, bewildered by the thick woods,\nthe deep ravines, and precipices which shut them in.  Some have lost\ntheir lives; and as Tommy lay on the leaves used up by his various\nstruggles, he thought of all the stories he had lately heard at the\nfarm, and began to wonder how it would feel to starve to death down\nthere, and to wish poor Billy could come to share his prison, that they\nmight die together, like the Babes in the Wood, or better still the Boy\nScouts lost on the prairies in that thrilling story, \"Bill Boomerang,\nthe Wild Hunter of the West.\"\n\n\"I guess mother is worried this time, because I never stayed out all\nnight before, and I never will again without leave.  It's rather good\nfun, though, if they only find me.  I ain't afraid, and it is n't very\ncold.  I always wanted to sleep out, and now I 'm doing it.  Wish poor\nBilly was safely down and in this good bed with me. Won't he be scared\nall alone there?  Maybe the belt will break and he get hurt bumping\ndown. Sorry now I left him, he's such a 'fraid-cat. There's the gun\nagain!  Guess it's that man after us.  Hi! hollo!  Here I am!  Whoop!\nHurrah! Hi! hi! hi!\"\n\nTommy's meditations ended in a series of yells as loud as his shrill\nlittle voice could make them, and he thought some one answered.  But it\nmust have been an echo, for no one came; and after another rampage round\nhis prison, the poor boy nestled down among the leaves, and went fast\nasleep because there was nothing else to do.\n\nSo there they were, the two young hunters, lost at midnight on the\nmountain,--one hanging like an apple on the old tree, and the other\nsound asleep in a bear-pit.  Their distracted mothers meantime were\nweeping and wringing their hands at the farm, while all the men in the\nneighborhood were out looking for the lost boys.  The hunter on his\nreturn to the hotel had reported meeting the runaways and his effort to\nsend them home in good season; so people knew where to look, and, led by\nthe man and dog, up the mountain went Mr. Mullin with his troop. It was\na mild night, and the moon shone high and clear; so the hunt was, on the\nwhole, rather easy and pleasant at first, and lanterns flashed through\nthe dark forest like fireflies, the lonely cliffs seemed alive with men,\nand voices echoed in places where usually only the brooks babbled and\nthe hawks screamed.  But as time went on, and no sign of the boys\nappeared, the men grew anxious, and began to fear some serious harm had\ncome to the runaways.\n\n\"I can't go home without them little shavers no way, 'specially Tommy,\"\nsaid Mr. Mullin, as they stopped to rest after a hard climb through the\nblasted grove.  \"He's a boy after my own heart, spry as a chipmunk,\nsmart as a young cockerel, and as full of mischief as a monkey. He ain't\nafraid of anything, and I should n't be a mite surprised to find him\nenjoyin' himself first-rate, and as cool as a coocumber.\"\n\n\"The fat boy won't take it so easily, I fancy. If it had n't been for\nhim I 'd have kept the lively fellow with me, and shown him how to hunt.\nSorry now I did n't take them both home,\" said the man with the gun,\nseeing his mistake too late, as people often do.\n\n\"Maybe they 've fell down a precipice and got killed, like Moses Warner,\nwhen he was lost,\" suggested a tall fellow, who had shouted himself\nhoarse.\n\n\"Hush up, and come on!  The dog is barkin' yonder, and he may have found\n'em,\" said the farmer, hurrying toward the place where the hound was\nbaying at something in a tree.\n\nIt was poor Billy, hanging there still, half unconscious with weariness\nand fear.  The belt had slipped up under his arms, so he could breathe\neasily; and there he was, looking like a queer sort of cone on the\nblasted pine.\n\n\"Wal, I never!\" exclaimed the farmer, as the tall lad climbed up, and,\nunhooking Billy, handed him down like a young bird, into the arms held\nup to catch him.\n\n\"He 's all right, only scared out of his wits.  Come along and look for\nthe other one.  I 'll warrant he went for help, and may be half-way home\nby this time,\" said the hunter, who did n't take much interest in the\nfat boy.\n\nTommy's hat lay on the ground; and showing it to the dog, his master\ntold him to find the boy.  The good hound sniffed about, and then set\noff with his nose to the ground, following the zigzag track Tommy had\ntaken in his hurry. The hunter and several of the men went after him,\nleaving the farmer with the others to take care of Billy.\n\nPresently the dog came to the bear-pit, and began to bark again.\n\n\"He 's got him!\" cried the men, much relieved; and rushing on soon saw\nthe good beast looking down at a little white object in one corner of\nthe dark hole.\n\nIt was Tommy's face in the moonlight, for the rest of him was covered up\nwith leaves.  The little round face seemed very quiet; and for a moment\nthe men stood quite still, fearing that the fall might have done the boy\nsome harm. Then the hunter leaped down, and gently touched the brown\ncheek.  It was warm, and a soft snore from the pug nose made the man\ncall out, much relieved,--\n\n\"He 's all right.  Wake up here, little chap; you are wanted at home.\nHad hunting enough for this time?\"\n\nAs he spoke, Tommy opened his eyes, gave a stretch, and said, \"Hollo,\nBilly,\" as calmly as if in his own bed at home.  Then the rustle of the\nleaves, the moonlight in his face, and the sight of several men staring\ndown at him startled him wide awake.\n\n\"Did you shoot the big bear?\" he asked, looking up at the hunter with a\ngrin.\n\n\"No; but I caught a little one, and here he is,\" answered the man,\ngiving Tommy a roll in the leaves, much pleased because he did not whine\nor make a fuss.\n\n\"Got lost, didn't we?  Oh, I say, where's Billy?  I left him up a tree\nlike a coon, and he would n't come down,\" laughed Tommy, kicking off his\nbrown bed-clothes, and quite ready to get up now.\n\nThey all laughed with him; and presently, when the story was told, they\npulled the boy out of the pit, and went back to join the other wanderer,\nwho was now sitting up eating the bread and butter Mrs. Mullin sent for\ntheir very late supper.\n\nThe men roared again, as the two boys told their various tribulations;\nand when they had been refreshed, the party started for home, blowing\nthe tin horns, and firing shot after shot to let the scattered searchers\nknow that the lost children were found.  Billy was very quiet, and\ngladly rode on the various broad backs offered for his use; but Tommy\nstoutly refused to be carried, and with an occasional \"boost\" over a\nvery rough place, walked all the way down on his own sturdy legs.  He\nwas the hero of the adventure, and was never tired of relating how he\ncaught the woodchuck, cooked the fish, slid down the big rock, and went\nto bed in the old bear-pit.  But in his own little mind he resolved to\nwait till he was older before he tried to be a hunter; and though he\ncaught several woodchucks that summer, he never shot another harmless\nlittle bird.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A wasp flew out and stung her lips.--PAGE 159.]\n\n\n\n                                 VIII.\n\n                             THE FAIRY BOX.\n\n\n\"T wish I had a magic bracelet like Rosamond's, that would prick me when\nI was going to do wrong,\" said little May, as she put down the story she\nhad been reading.\n\nThere was no one else in the room, but she heard a sweet voice sing\nthese words close to her ear:--\n\n    \"Now hark, little May,\n      If you want to do right,\n    Under your pillow\n      Just look every night.\n    If you have been good\n      All through the day,\n    A gift you will find,\n      Useful or gay;\n    But if you have been\n      Cross, selfish, or wild,\n    A bad thing will come\n      For the naughty child.\n    So try, little dear,\n      And soon you will see\n    How easy and sweet\n      To grow good it will be.\"\n\n\nMay was very much surprised at this, and looked everywhere to see who\nspoke, but could find no one.\n\n\"I guess I dreamed it; but my eyes are wide open, and I can't make up\npoetry, asleep or awake.\"\n\nAs she said that, some one laughed; and the same voice sang again,--\n\n    \"Ha, ha! you can't see,\n      Although I am here;\n    But listen to what\n      I say in your ear.\n    Tell no one of this,\n      Because, if you do,\n    My fun will be spoilt,\n      And so will yours too.\n    But if you are good,\n      And patient, and gay,\n    A real fairy will come\n      To see little May.\"\n\n\n\"Oh, how splendid that will be!  I 'll try hard, and be as good as an\nangel if I can only get one peep at a live fairy.  I always said, there\nwere such people, and now I shall know how they look,\" cried the little\ngirl, so pleased that she danced all about the room, clapping her hands.\n\nSomething bright darted out of the window from among the flowers that\nstood there, and no more songs were heard; so May knew that the elf had\ngone.\n\n\"I 've got a fine secret all to myself, and I 'll keep it carefully.  I\nwonder what present will come to-night,\" she said, thinking this a very\ninteresting play.\n\nShe was very good all day, and made no fuss about going to bed, though\nusually she fretted, and wanted to play, and called for water, and\nplagued poor Nursey in many ways.  She got safely into her little nest,\nand then was in such a hurry to see what was under her pillow that she\nforgot, and called out crossly,--\n\n\"Do hurry and go away.  Don't wait to hang up my clothes, you slow old\nthing!  Go, go!\"\n\nThat hurt Nurse's feelings, and she went away without her good-night\nkiss.  But May did n't care, and felt under her pillow the minute the\ndoor was shut.  A lamp was always left burning; so she could see the\nlittle gold box she drew out.\n\n\"How pretty!  I hope there is some candy in it,\" she said, opening it\nvery carefully.\n\nOh, dear! what _do_ you think happened?  A wasp flew out and stung her\nlips; then both wasp and box vanished, and May was left to cry alone,\nwith a sharp pain in the lips that said the unkind words.\n\n\"What a dreadful present!  I don't like that spiteful fairy who sends\nsuch horrid things,\" she sobbed.\n\nThen she lay still and thought about it; for she dared not call any one,\nbecause nobody must guess the secret.  She knew in her own little heart\nthat the cross words hurt Nursey as the sting did her lips, and she felt\nsorry.  At once the smart got better, and by the time she had resolved\nto ask the good old woman to forgive her, it was all gone.\n\nNext morning she kissed Nursey and begged pardon, and tried hard to be\ngood till tea-time; then she ran to see what nice things they were going\nto have to eat, though she had often been told not to go into the\ndining-room.  No one was there; and on the table stood a dish of\ndelicious little cakes, all white like snowballs.\n\n\"I must have just a taste, and I 'll tell mamma afterward,\" she said;\nand before she knew it one little cake was eaten all up.\n\n\"Nobody will miss it, and I can have another at tea.  Now, a lump of\nsugar and a sip of cream before mamma comes, I so like to pick round.\"\n\nHaving done one wrong thing, May felt like going on; so she nibbled and\nmeddled with all sorts of forbidden things till she heard a step, then\nshe ran away; and by and by, when the bell rang, came in with the rest\nas prim and proper as if she did not know how to play pranks.  No one\nmissed the cake, and her mother gave her another, saying,--\n\n\"There, dear, is a nice plummy one for my good child.\"\n\nMay turned red, and wanted to tell what she had done, but was ashamed\nbecause there was company; and people thought she blushed like a modest\nlittle girl at being praised.\n\nBut when she went to bed she was almost afraid to look under the pillow,\nknowing that she had done wrong.  At last she slowly drew out the box,\nand slowly opened it, expecting something to fly at her.  All she saw\nwas a tiny black bag, that began at once to grow larger, till it was big\nenough to hold her two hands. Then it tied itself tight round her\nwrists, as if to keep these meddlesome hands out of mischief.\n\n\"Well, this is very queer, but not so dreadful as the wasp.  I hope no\none will see it when I 'm asleep.  I do wish I 'd let those cakes and\nthings alone,\" sighed May, looking at the black bag, and vainly trying\nto get her hands free.\n\nShe cried herself to sleep, and when she woke the bag was gone.  No one\nhad seen it; but she told her mamma about the cake, and promised not to\ndo so any more.\n\n\"Now this shall be a truly good day, every bit of it,\" she said, as she\nskipped away, feeling as light as a feather after she had confessed her\nlittle sins.\n\nBut, alas! it is so easy to forget and do wrong, that May spoilt her day\nbefore dinner by going to the river and playing with the boats, in spite\nof many orders not to do it.  She did not tell of it, and went to a\nparty in the afternoon, where she was so merry she never remembered the\nnaughty thing till she was in bed and opened the fairy box.  A little\nchain appeared, which in a flash grew long and large, and fastened round\nher ankles as if she were a prisoner.  May liked to tumble about, and\nwas much disgusted to be chained in this way; but there was no help for\nit, so she lay very still and had plenty of time to be sorry.\n\n\"It is a good punishment for me, and I deserve it.  I won't cry, but I\nwill--I _will_ remember.\"  And May said her prayers very soberly, really\nmeaning to keep her word this time.\n\nAll the next day she was very careful to keep her lips from cross words,\nher hands from forbidden things, and her feet from going wrong. Nothing\nspoilt this day, she watched so well; and when mamma gave the good-night\nkiss, she said,--\n\n\"What shall I give my good little daughter, who has been gentle,\nobedient, and busy all day?\"\n\n\"I want a white kitty, with blue eyes, and a pink ribbon on its neck,\"\nanswered May.\n\n\"I'll try and find one.  Now go to bed, deary, and happy dreams!\" said\nmamma, with many kisses on the rosy cheeks, and the smile that was a\nreward.\n\nMay was so busy thinking about the kitty and the good day that she\nforgot the box till she heard a little \"Mew, mew!\" under her pillow.\n\n\"Mercy me! what's that?\"  And she popped up her head to see.\n\nOut came the box; off flew the lid, and there, on a red cushion, lay a\nwhite kit about two inches long.  May could n't believe that it was\nalive till it jumped out of its nest, stretched itself, and grew all at\nonce just the right size to play with and be pretty.  Its eyes were\nblue, its tail like a white plume, and a sweet pink bow was on its neck.\nIt danced all over the bed, ran up the curtains, hid under the clothes,\nnipped May's toes, licked her face, patted her nose with its soft paw,\nand winked at her in such a funny way that she laughed for joy at having\nsuch a dear kitty.  Presently, as if it knew that bed was the place to\nlie quiet in, puss cuddled down in a little bunch and purred May to\nsleep.\n\n\"I suppose that darling kit will be gone like all the other things,\"\nsaid May, as she waked up and looked round for her first pretty gift.\n\nNo; there was the lovely thing sitting in the sun among the flower-pots,\nwashing her face and getting ready for play.  What a fine frolic they\nhad; and how surprised every one was to see just the pussy May wanted!\nThey supposed it came as kitties often come; and May never told them it\nwas a fairy present, because she had promised not to.  She was so happy\nwith little puss that she was good all day; and when she went to bed she\nthought,--\n\n\"I wish I had a dog to play with darling Snowdrop, and run with me when\nI go to walk.\"\n\n\"Bow, wow, wow!\" came from under the pillow; and out of the box trotted\na curly black dog, with long ears, a silver collar, and such bright,\nkind eyes May was not a bit afraid of him, but loved him at once, and\nnamed him Floss, he was so soft and silky.  Pussy liked him too; and\nwhen May was sleepy they both snuggled down in the same basket like two\ngood babies, and went to by-low.\n\n\"Well, I never!  What shall we find next?\" said Nurse, when she saw the\ndog in the morning.\n\n\"Perhaps it will be an elephant, to fill the whole house, and scare you\nout of your wits,\" laughed May, dancing about with Snowdrop chasing her\nbare toes, while Floss shook and growled over her shoes as if they were\nrats.\n\n\"If your cousin John wants to give you any more animals, I wish he 'd\nsend a pony to take you to school, and save my old legs the pain of\ntrotting after you,\" said Nurse; for May did have a rich cousin who was\nvery fond of her, and often gave her nice things.\n\n\"Perhaps he will,\" laughed May, much tickled with the idea that it was a\nfairy, and not Cousin John, who sent the cunning little creatures to\nher.\n\nBut she did n't get the pony that night; for in the afternoon her mother\ntold her not to sit on the lawn, because it was damp, and May did not\nmind, being busy with a nice story.  So when she took up her box, a loud\nsneeze seemed to blow the lid off, and all she saw was a bit of red\nflannel.\n\n\"What is this for?\" she asked, much disappointed; and as if to answer,\nthe strip of flannel wrapped itself round her neck.\n\n\"There! my throat _is_ sore, and I _am_ hoarse. I wonder how that fairy\nknew I sat on the damp grass.  I 'm so sorry; for I did want a pony, and\nmight have had it if I 'd only minded,\" said May, angry with herself for\nspoiling all her fun.\n\nIt _was_ spoilt; for she had such a cold next day she could n't go out\nat all, but had to take medicine and keep by the fire, while the other\nchildren had a lovely picnic.\n\n\"I won't wish for anything to-night; I don't deserve a present, I was so\ndisobedient.  But I _have_ tried to be patient,\" said May, feeling for\nthe box.\n\nThe fairy had not forgotten her, and there was a beautiful picture-book,\nfull of new, nice stories printed in colored ink.\n\n\"How splendid to read to-morrow while I 'm shut up!\" she said, and went\nto sleep very happily.\n\nAll the next day she enjoyed the pretty pictures and funny tales, and\nnever complained or fretted at all, but was so much better the doctor\nsaid she could go out to-morrow, if it was fine.\n\n\"Now I will wish for the pony,\" said May, in her bed.  But there was\nnothing in the box except a little red-silk rope, like a halter.  She\ndid not know what to do with it that night, but she did the next\nmorning; for just as she was dressed her brother called from the\ngarden,--\n\n\"May, look out and see what we found in the stable.  None of us can\ncatch him, so do come and see if you can; your name is on the card tied\nto his mane.\"\n\nMay looked, and there was a snow-white pony racing about the yard as if\nhe was having a fine frolic.  Then she knew the halter was for him, and\nran down to catch him.  The minute she appeared, the pony went to her\nand put his nose in her hand, neighing, as if he said,--\n\n\"This is my little mistress; I will mind her and serve her well.\"\n\nMay was delighted, and very proud when the pony let her put on the\nsaddle and bridle that lay in the barn all ready to use.  She jumped up\nand rode gayly down the road; and Will and mamma and all the maids and\nFloss and Snowdrop ran to see the pretty sight.  The children at school\nwere much excited when she came trotting up, and all wanted to ride\nPrince. He was very gentle, and every one had a ride; but May had the\nbest fun, for she could go every day for long trots by the carriage when\nmamma and Will drove out.  A blue habit and a hat with a long feather\nwere bought that afternoon; and May was so happy and contented at night\nthat she said to herself as she lay in bed,--\n\n\"I 'll wish for something for Will now, and see if I get it.  I don't\nwant any more presents yet; I've had my share, and I'd love to give away\nto other people who have no fairy box.\"\n\nSo she wished for a nice boat, and in the box lay a key with the name\n\"Water Lily\" on it. She guessed what it meant, and in the morning told\nher brother to come to the river and see what she had for him.  There\nlay a pretty green and white boat, with cushioned seats, a sail all\nspread, and at the mast-head a little flag flying in the wind, with the\nwords \"Water Lily\" on it in gold letters.\n\nWill was so surprised and pleased to find that it was his, he turned\nheels over head on the grass, kissed May, and skipped into his boat,\ncrying, \"All aboard!\" as if eager to try it at once.\n\nMay followed, and they sailed away down the lovely river, white with\nreal lilies, while the blackbirds sang in the green meadows on either\nside, and boys and girls stopped on the bridges to see them pass.\n\nAfter that May kept on trying to be good, and wishing for things for\nherself and other people, till she forgot how to be naughty, and was the\nsweetest little girl in the world.  Then there was no need of fairies to\nhelp her; and one night the box was not under the pillow.\n\n\"Well, I 've had my share of pretty things, and must learn to do\nwithout.  I 'm glad I tried; for now it is easy to be good, and I don't\nneed to be rewarded,\" said May, as she fell asleep, quite happy and\ncontented, though she did wish, she could have seen the fairy just once.\n\nNext morning the first thing she saw was a beautiful bracelet, shining\non the table; and while she stood admiring it, she heard the little\nvoice sing,--\n\n    \"Here is the bracelet\n      For good little May\n    To wear on her arm\n      By night and by day.\n    When it shines like the sun,\n      All's going well;\n    But when you are bad,\n      A sharp prick will tell.\n    Farewell, little girl,\n      For now we must part.\n    Make a fairy-box, dear,\n      Of your own happy heart;\n    And take out for all\n      Sweet gifts every day,\n    Till all the year round\n      Is like beautiful May.\"\n\n\nAs the last words were sung, right before her eyes she saw a tiny\ncreature swinging on the rose that stood there in a vase,--a lovely elf,\nwith wings like a butterfly, a gauzy dress, and a star on her forehead.\nShe smiled, and waved her hand as she slowly rose and fluttered away\ninto the sunshine, till she vanished from sight, leaving May with the\nmagic bracelet on her arm, and the happy thought that at last she had\n_really_ seen a fairy.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long-desired \"peek.\"\nPAGE 183.]\n\n\n\n                                  IX.\n\n                          A HOLE IN THE WALL.\n\n\n                                PART I.\n\n\nIf any one had asked Johnny Morris who were his best friends, he would\nhave answered,--\n\n\"The sun and the wind, next to mother.\"\n\nJohnny lived in a little court that led off from one of the busiest\nstreets in the city,--a noisy street, where horse-car bells tinkled and\nomnibuses rumbled all day long, going and coming from several great\ndepots near by.  The court was a dull place, with only two or three\nshabby houses in it, and a high blank wall at the end.\n\nThe people who hurried by were too busy to do more than to glance at the\nlame boy who sat in the sunshine against the wall, or to guess that\nthere was a picture-gallery and a circulating-library in the court.  But\nJohnny had both, and took such comfort in them that he never could be\ngrateful enough to the wind that brought him his books and pictures, nor\nto the sun that made it possible for him to enjoy them in the open air,\nfar more than richer folk enjoy their fine galleries and libraries.\n\nA bad fall, some months before the time this story begins, did something\nto Johnny's back which made his poor legs nearly useless, and changed\nthe lively, rosy boy into a pale cripple. His mother took in fine\nwashing, and worked hard to pay doctors' bills and feed and clothe her\nboy, who could no longer run errands, help with the heavy tubs, or go to\nschool.  He could only pick out laces for her to iron, lie on his bed in\npain for hours, and, each fair day, hobble out to sit in a little old\nchair between the water-butt and the leaky tin boiler in which he kept\nhis library.\n\nBut he was a happy boy, in spite of poverty and pain; and the day a\ngreat gust came blowing fragments of a gay placard and a dusty newspaper\ndown the court to his feet, was the beginning of good fortune for\npatient Johnny. There was a theatre in the street beyond, and other\npictured bits found their way to him; for the frolicsome wind liked to\nwhisk the papers around the corner, and chase them here and there till\nthey settled under the chair or flew wildly over the wall.\n\nFaces, animals, people, and big letters, all came to cheer the boy, who\nwas never tired of collecting these waifs and strays; cutting out the\nbig pictures to paste on the wall with the leavings of mother's starch,\nand the smaller in the scrap-book he made out of stout brown wrappers or\nnewspapers, when he had read the latter carefully.  Soon it was a very\ngay wall; for mother helped, standing on a chair, to put the large\npictures up, when Johnny had covered all the space he could reach.  The\nbooks were laid carefully away in the boiler, after being smoothly\nironed out and named to suit Johnny's fancy by pasting letters on the\nback.  This was the circulating library; for not only did the papers\nwhisk about the court to begin with, but the books they afterward made\nwent the rounds among the neighbors till they were worn out.\n\nThe old cobbler next door enjoyed reading the anecdotes on Sunday when\nhe could not work; the pale seamstress upstairs liked to look over\nadvertisements of the fine things which she longed for; and Patsey\nFlynn, the newsboy, who went by each day to sell his papers at the\nstation, often paused to look at the play-bills,--for he adored the\ntheatre, and entertained Johnny with descriptions of the splendors there\nto be beheld, till he felt as if he had really been, and had known all\nthe famous actors, from Humpty Dumpty to the great Salvini.\n\nNow and then a flock of dirty children would stray into the court and\nask to see the \"pretty picters.\"  Then Johnny was a proud and happy boy;\nfor, armed with a clothes-pole, he pointed out and explained the\nbeauties of his gallery, feeling that he was a public benefactor when\nthe poor babies thanked him warmly, and promised to come again and bring\nall the nice papers they could pick up.\n\nThese were Johnny's pleasures: but he had two sorrows,--one, a very real\none, his aching back; and the other, a boyish longing to climb the wall\nand see what was on the other side, for it seemed a most wonderful and\ndelightful place to the poor child, shut up in that dismal court, with\nno playmates and few comforts.\n\nHe amused himself with imagining how it looked over there, and nearly\nevery night added some new charm to this unseen country, when his mother\ntold him fairy tales to get him to sleep.  He peopled it with the dear\nold characters all children know and love.  The white cat that sat on\nthe wall was Puss in Boots to him, or Whittington's good friend.\nBlue-beard's wives were hidden in the house of whose upper windows the\nboy could just catch glimpses. Red Riding-hood met the wolf in the grove\nof chestnuts that rustled over there; and Jack's Beanstalk grew up just\nsuch a wall as that, he was sure.\n\nBut the story he liked best was the \"Sleeping Beauty in the Wood;\" for\nhe was sure some lovely creature lived in that garden, and he longed to\nget in to find and play with her.  He actually planted a bean in a bit\nof damp earth behind the water-barrel, and watched it grow, hoping for\nas strong a ladder as Jack's.  But the vine grew very slowly, and Johnny\nwas so impatient that he promised Patsey his best book \"for his\nownty-donty,\" if he would climb up and report what was to be seen in\nthat enchanted garden.\n\n\"Faix, and I will, thin.\"  And up went good-natured Pat, after laying an\nold board over the hogshead to stand on; for there were spikes all along\nthe top of the wall, and only cats and sparrows could walk there.\n\nAlas for Johnny's eager hopes, and alas for Pat's Sunday best!  The\nboard broke, and splash went the climber, with a wild Irish howl that\nstartled Johnny half out of his wits and brought both Mrs. Morris and\nthe cobbler to the rescue.\n\nAfter this sad event Pat kept away for a time in high dudgeon, and\nJohnny was more lonely than ever.  But he was a cheery little soul; so\nhe was grateful for what joys he had, and worked away at his wall,--for\nthe March winds had brought him many treasures, and after April rains\nwere over, May sunshine made the court warm enough for him to be out\nnearly all day.\n\n\"I 'm so sorry Pat is mad, 'cause he saw this piece and told me about\nit, and he 'd like to help me put up these pictures,\" said Johnny to\nhimself, one breezy morning, as he sat examining a big poster which the\nwind had sent flying into his lap a few minutes before.\n\nThe play was \"Monte Cristo,\" and the pictures represented the hero\ngetting out of prison by making holes in the wall, among other\nremarkable performances.\n\n\"This is a jolly red one!  Now, where will I put it to show best and not\nspoil the other beauties?\"\n\nAs he spoke, Johnny turned his chair around and surveyed his gallery\nwith as much pride and satisfaction as if it held all the wonders of\nart.\n\nIt really was quite splendid; for every sort of picture shone in the\nsun,--simpering ladies, tragic scenes, circus parades, labels from tin\ncans, rosy tomatoes, yellow peaches, and purple plums, funny\nadvertisements, and gay bills of all kinds.  None were perfect, but they\nwere arranged with care; and the effect was very fine, Johnny thought.\n\nPresently his eyes wandered from these treasures to the budding bushes\nthat nodded so tantalizingly over the wall.  A grape-vine ran along the\ntop, trying to hide the sharp spikes; lilacs tossed their purple plumes\nabove it, and several tall chestnuts rose over all, making green tents\nwith their broad leaves, where spires of blossom began to show like\ncandles on a mammoth Christmas tree.  Sparrows were chirping gayly\neverywhere; the white cat, with a fresh blue bow, basked on the coping\nof the wall, and from the depths of the enchanted garden came a sweet\nvoice singing,--\n\n    \"And she bids you to come in,\n    With a dimple in your chin,\n      Billy boy, Billy boy.\"\n\n\nJohnny smiled as he listened, and put his finger to the little dent in\nhis own chin, wishing the singer would finish this pleasing song.  But\nshe never did, though he often heard that, as well as other childish\nditties, sung in the same gay voice, with bursts of laughter and the\nsound of lively feet tripping up and down the boarded walks.  Johnny\nlonged intensely to know who the singer was; for her music cheered his\nsolitude, and the mysterious sounds he heard in the garden increased his\nwonder and his longing day by day.\n\nSometimes a man's voice called, \"Fay, where are you?\" and Johnny was\nsure \"Fay\" was short for Fairy.  Another voice was often heard talking\nin a strange, soft language, full of exclamations and pretty sounds.  A\nlittle dog barked, and answered to the name Pippo.  Canaries carolled,\nand some elfish bird scolded, screamed, and laughed so like a human\nbeing, that Johnny felt sure that magic of some sort was at work next\ndoor.\n\nA delicious fragrance was now wafted over the wall as of flowers, and\nthe poor boy imagined untold loveliness behind that cruel wall, as he\ntended the dandelions his mother brought him from the Common, when she\nhad time to stop and gather them; for he loved flowers dearly, and tried\nto make them out of colored paper, since he could have no sweeter sort.\n\nNow and then a soft, rushing sound excited his curiosity to such a pitch\nthat once he hobbled painfully up the court till he could see into the\ntrees; and once his eager eyes caught glimpses of a little creature, all\nblue and white and gold, who peeped out from the green fans, and nodded,\nand tried to toss him a cluster of the chestnut flowers.  He stretched\nhis hands to her with speechless delight, forgetting his crutches, and\nwould have fallen if he had not caught by the shutter of a window so\nquickly that he gave the poor back a sad wrench; and when he could look\nup again, the fairy had vanished, and nothing was to be seen but the\nleaves dancing in the wind.\n\nJohnny dared not try this again for fear of a fall, and every step cost\nhim a pang; but he never forgot it, and was thinking of it as he sat\nstaring at the wall on that memorable May day.\n\n\"How I should like to peek in and see just how it all really looks!  It\nsounds and smells so summery and nice in there.  I know it must be\nsplendid.  I say, Pussy, can't you tell a feller what you see?\"\n\nJohnny laughed as he spoke, and the white cat purred politely; for she\nliked the boy who never threw stones at her, nor disturbed her naps.\nBut Puss could not describe the beauties of the happy hunting-ground\nbelow; and, to console himself for the disappointment, Johnny went back\nto his new picture.\n\n\"Now, if this man in the play dug his way out. through a wall ten feet\nthick with a rusty nail and a broken knife, I don't see why I could n't\npick away one brick and get a peek.  It's all quiet in there now; here's\na good place, and nobody will know, if I stick a picture over the hole.\nAnd I 'll try it, I declare I will!\"\n\nFired with the idea of acting Monte Cristo on a small scale, Johnny\ncaught up the old scissors in his lap, and began to dig out the mortar\naround a brick already loose, and crumbling at the corners.  His mother\nsmiled at his energy, then sighed and said, as she clapped her laces\nwith a heavy heart,--\n\n\"Ah, poor dear, if he only had his health he 'd make his way in the\nworld.  But now he 's like to find a blank wall before him while he\nlives, and none to help him over.\"\n\nPuss, in her white boots, sat aloft and looked on, wise as the cat in\nthe story, but offered no advice.  The toad who lived behind the\nwater-barrel hopped under the few leaves of the struggling bean, like\nJack waiting to climb; and just then the noon bells began to ring as if\nthey sang clear and loud,--\n\n\"Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London.\"\n\nSo, cheered by his friends, Johnny scraped and dug vigorously till the\nold brick fell out, showing another behind it.  Only pausing to take\nbreath, he caught up his crutch and gave two or three hearty pokes,\nwhich soon cleared the way and let the sunshine stream through, while\nthe wind tossed the lilacs like triumphal banners, and the jolly\nsparrows chirped,--\n\n\"Hail, the conquering hero comes!\"\n\nRather scared by his unexpected success, the boy sat silent for a moment\nto see what would happen.  But all was still; and presently, with a\nbeating heart, Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long-desired \"peek.\"\nHe could not see much; but that little increased his curiosity and\ndelight, for it seemed like looking into fairy-land, after the dust and\nnoise and dingy houses of the court.\n\nA bed of splendid tulips tossed their gay garments in the middle of a\ngrass-plot; a strange and brilliant bird sat dressing its feathers on a\ngolden cage; a little white dog dozed in the sun; and on a red carpet\nunder the trees lay the Princess, fast asleep.\n\n\"It's all right,\" said Johnny, with a long sigh of pleasure; \"that's the\nSleeping Beauty, sure enough.  There 's the blue gown, the white\nfur-cloak sweeping round, the pretty hair, and--yes--there's the old\nnurse, spinning and nodding, just as she did in the picture-book mother\ngot me when I cried because I could n't go to see the play.\"\n\nThis last discovery really did bewilder Johnny, and make him believe\nthat fairy tales _might_ be true, after all; for how could he know that\nthe strange woman was an Italian servant, in her native dress, with a\ndistaff in her hand?  After pausing a moment, to rub his eyes, he took\nanother look, and made fresh discoveries by twisting his head about.  A\nbasket of oranges stood near the Princess, a striped curtain hung from a\nlimb of the tree to keep the wind off, and several books fluttered their\npictured leaves temptingly before Johnny's longing eyes.\n\n\"Oh, if I could only go in and eat 'em and read 'em and speak to 'em and\nsee all the splendid things!\" thought the poor boy, as he looked from\none delight to another, and felt shut out from all.  \"I can't go and\nwake her like the Prince did, but I do wish she 'd get up and do\nsomething, now I _can_ see.  I dare n't throw a stone, it might hit some\none, or holler, it might scare her.  Pussy won't help, and the sparrows\nare too busy scolding one another.  I know! I 'll fly a kite over, and\nthat will please her any way.  Don't believe she has kites; girls never\ndo.\"\n\nEager to carry out his plan, Johnny tied a long string to his gayest\nposter, and then fastening it to the pole with which he sometimes fished\nin the water-cask, held it up to catch the fresh breezes blowing down\nthe court.  His good friend, the wind, soon caught the idea, and with a\nstrong breath sent the red paper whisking over the wall, to hang a\nmoment on the trees and then drop among the tulips, where its frantic\nstruggles to escape waked the dog, and set him to racing and barking, as\nJohnny hurriedly let the string go, and put his eye to his peep-hole.\n\nThe eyes of the Princess were wide open now, and she clapped her hands\nwhen Pippo brought the gay picture for her to see; while the old woman,\nwith a long yawn, went away, carrying her distaff, like a gun, over her\nshoulder.\n\n\"She likes it!  I'm so glad.  Wish I had some more to send over.  This\nwill come off; I 'll poke it through, and maybe she will see it.\"\n\nVery much excited, Johnny recklessly tore from the wall his most\ncherished picture, a gay flower-piece, just put up; and folding it, he\nthrust it through the hole and waited to see what followed.\n\nNothing but a rustle, a bark, and a queer croak from the splendid bird,\nwhich set the canaries to trilling sweetly.\n\n\"She don't see; maybe she will hear,\" said Johnny.  And he began to\nwhistle like a mocking-bird; for this was his one accomplishment, and he\nwas proud of it.\n\nPresently he heard a funny burst of laughter from the parrot, and then\nthe voice said,--\n\n\"No, Polly, you can't sing like that bird.  I wonder where he is?  Among\nthe bushes over there, I think.  Come, Pippo, let us go and find him.\"\n\n\"Now she 's coming!\"  And Johnny grew red in the face trying to give his\nbest trills and chirrups.\n\nNearer and nearer came the steps, the lilacs rustled as if shaken, and\npresently the roll of paper vanished.  A pause, and then the little\nvoice exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise,--\n\n\"Why, there 's a hole!  I never saw it before. Oh!  I can see the\nstreet.  How nice! how nice!\"\n\n\"She likes the hole!  I wonder if she will like me?\"  And, emboldened by\nthese various successes, Johnny took another peep.  This was the most\ndelicious one of all; for he looked right into a great blue eye, with\nglimpses of golden hair above, a little round nose in the middle, and\nred lips below.  It was like a flash of sunshine, and Johnny winked, as\nif dazzled; for the eye sparkled, the nose sniffed daintily, and the\npretty mouth broke into a laugh as the voice cried out delightedly,--\n\n\"I see some one!  Who are you?  Come and tell me!\"\n\n\"I 'm Johnny Morris,\" answered the boy, quite trembling with pleasure.\n\n\"Did you make this nice hole?\"\n\n\"I just poked a brick, and it fell out.\"\n\n\"Papa won't mind.  Is that your bird?\"\n\n\"No; it's me.  I whistled.\"\n\n\"It's very pretty.  Do it again,\" commanded the voice, as if used to\ngive orders.\n\nJohnny obeyed; and when he paused, out of breath, a small hand came\nthrough the hole, grasping as many lilies of the valley as it could\nhold, and the Princess graciously expressed her pleasure by saying,--\n\n\"I like it; you shall do it again, by and by. Here are some flowers for\nyou.  Now we will talk.  Are you a nice boy?\"\n\nThis was a poser; and Johnny answered meekly, with his nose luxuriously\nburied in the lovely flowers,--\n\n\"Not very,--I 'm lame; I can't play like other fellers.\"\n\n\"Porverino!\" sighed the little voice, full of pity; and, in a moment,\nthree red-and-yellow tulips fell at Johnny's feet, making him feel as if\nhe really had slipped into fairy-land through that delightful hole.\n\n\"Oh, thank you!  Are n't they just elegant? I never see such beauties,\"\nstammered the poor boy, grasping his treasures as if he feared they\nmight vanish away.\n\n\"You shall have as many as you like.  Nanna will scold, but papa won't\nmind.  Tell me more. What do you do over there?\" asked the child,\neagerly.\n\n\"Nothing but paste pictures and make books, when I don't ache too bad.\nI used to help mother; but I got hurt, and I can't do much now,\"\nanswered the boy, ashamed to mention how many laces he patiently picked\nor clapped, since it was all he could do to help.\n\n\"If you like pictures, you shall come and see mine some day.  I do a\ngreat many.  Papa shows me how.  His are splendid.  Do you draw or paint\nyours?\"\n\n\"I only cut 'em out of papers, and stick 'em on this wall or put 'em in\nscrap-books.  I can't draw, and I have n't got no paints,\" answered\nJohnny.\n\n\"You should say 'have n't any paints.'  I will come and see you some\nday; and if I like you, I will let you have my old paint-box.  Do you\nwant it?\"\n\n\"Guess I do!\"\n\n\"I think I _shall_ like you; so I 'll bring it when I come.  Do you ache\nmuch?\"\n\n\"Awfully, sometimes.  Have to lay down all day, and can't do a thing.\"\n\n\"Do you cry?\"\n\n\"No!  I 'm too big for that.  I whistle.\"\n\n\"I _know_ I shall like you, because you are brave!\" cried the impetuous\nvoice, with its pretty accent; and then an orange came tumbling through\nthe hole, as if the new acquaintance longed to do something to help the\n\"ache.\"\n\n\"Is n't that a rouser!  I do love 'em, but mother can't afford 'em\noften.\"  And Johnny took one delicious taste on the spot.\n\n\"Then I shall give you many.  We have loads at home, much finer than\nthese.  Ah, you should see our garden there!\"\n\n\"Where do you live?\" Johnny ventured to ask; for there was a homesick\nsound to the voice as it said those last words.\n\n\"In Rome.  Here we only stay a year, while papa arranges his affairs;\nthen we go back, and I am happy.\"\n\n\"I should think you 'd be happy in there.  It looks real splendid to me,\nand I 've been longing to see it ever since I could come out.\"\n\n\"It's a dull place to me.  I like better to be where it's always warm,\nand people are more beautiful than here.  Are _you_ beautiful?\"\n\n\"What queer questions she does ask!\"  And poor Johnny was so perplexed\nhe could only stammer, with a laugh,--\n\n\"I guess not.  Boys don't care for looks.\"\n\n\"Peep, and let me see.  I like pretty persons,\" commanded the voice.\n\n\"Don't she order round?\" thought Johnny, as he obeyed.  But he liked it,\nand showed such a smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay was\npleased to say, after a long look at him,--\n\n\"No, you are not beautiful; but your eyes are bright, and you look\npleasant, so I don't mind the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of\nyour face.  I think you are good.  I am sorry for you, and I shall lend\nyou a book to read when the pain comes.\"\n\n\"I could n't wait for that if I had a book.  I do love so to read!\"  And\nJohnny laughed out from sheer delight at the thought of a new book; for\nhe seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and too helpless to enjoy\nthe free libraries of the city.\n\n\"Then you shall have it _now_.\"  And there was another quick rush in the\ngarden, followed by the appearance of a fat little book, slowly pushed\nthrough the hole in the wall.\n\n\"This is the only one that will pass.  You will like Hans Andersen's\nfairy tales, I know.  Keep it as long as you please.  I have many more.\"\n\n\"You're so good!  I wish I had something for you,\" said the boy, quite\novercome by this sweet friendliness.\n\n\"Let me see one of _your_ books.  They will be new to me.  I 'm tired of\nall mine.\"\n\nQuick as a flash, off went the cover of the old boiler, and out came\nhalf-a-dozen of Johnny's best works, to be crammed through the wall,\nwith the earnest request,--\n\n\"Keep 'em all; they're not good for much, but they 're the best I 've\ngot.  I 'll do some prettier ones as soon as I can find more nice\npictures and pieces.\"\n\n\"They look very interesting.  I thank you. I shall go and read them now,\nand then come and talk again.  Addio, Giovanni.\"\n\n\"Good-by, Miss.\"\n\nThus ended the first interview of little Pyramus and Thisbe through the\nhole in the wall, while puss sat up above and played moonshine with her\nyellow eyes.\n\n\n\n                                PART II.\n\n\nAfter that day a new life began for Johnny, and he flourished like a\npoor little plant that has struggled out of some dark corner into the\nsunshine.  All sorts of delightful things happened, and good times\nreally seemed to have come.  The mysterious papa made no objection to\nthe liberties taken with his wall, being busy with his own affairs, and\nglad to have his little girl happy.  Old Nanna, being more careful, came\nto see the new neighbors, and was disarmed at once by the affliction of\nthe boy and the gentle manners of the mother.  She brought all the\ncurtains of the house for Mrs. Morris to do up, and in her pretty broken\nEnglish praised Johnny's gallery and library, promising to bring Fay to\nsee him some day.\n\nMeantime the little people prattled daily together, and all manner of\nthings came and went between them.  Flowers, fruit, books, and bon-bons\nkept Johnny in a state of bliss, and inspired him with such brilliant\ninventions that the Princess never knew what agreeable surprise would\ncome next.  Astonishing kites flew over the wall, and tissue balloons\nexploded in the flower-beds.  All the birds of the air seemed to live in\nthat court; for the boy whistled and piped till he was hoarse, because\nshe liked it.  The last of the long-hoarded cents came out of his tin\nbank to buy paper and pictures for the gay little books he made for her.\nHis side of the wall was ravaged that hers might be adorned; and, as the\nlast offering his grateful heart could give, he poked the toad through\nthe hole, to live among the lilies and eat the flies that began to buzz\nabout her Highness when she came to give her orders to her devoted\nsubjects.\n\nShe always called the lad Giovanni, because she thought it a prettier\nname than John; and she was never tired of telling stories, asking\nquestions, and making plans.  The favorite one was what they would do\nwhen Johnny came to see her, as she had been promised he should when\npapa was not too busy to let them enjoy the charms of the studio; for\nFay was a true artist's child, and thought nothing so lovely as\npictures.  Johnny thought so, too, and dreamed of the happy day when he\nshould go and see the wonders his little friend described so well.\n\n\"I think it will be to-morrow; for papa has a lazy fit coming on, and\nthen he always plays with me and lets me rummage where I like, while he\ngoes out or smokes in the garden.  So be ready; and if he says you can\ncome, I will have the flag up early and you can hurry.\"\n\nThese agreeable remarks were breathed into Johnny's willing ear about a\nfortnight after the acquaintance began; and he hastened to promise,\nadding soberly, a minute after,--\n\n\"Mother says she's afraid it will be too much for me to go around and up\nsteps, and see new things; for I get tired so easy, and then the pain\ncomes on.  But I don't care how I ache if I can only see the\npictures--and you.\"\n\n\"Won't you ever be any better?  Nanna thinks you might.\"\n\n\"So does mother, if we had money to go away in the country, and eat nice\nthings, and have doctors.  But we can't; so it's no use worrying.\"  And\nJohnny gave a great sigh.\n\n\"I wish papa was rich, then he would give you money.  He works hard to\nmake enough to go back to Italy, so I cannot ask him; but perhaps I can\nsell _my_ pictures also, and get a little.  Papa's friends often offer\nme sweets for kisses; I will have money instead, and that will help.\nYes, I shall do it.\"  And Fay clapped her hands decidedly.\n\n\"Don't you mind about it.  I 'm going to learn to mend shoes.  Mr.\nPegget says he 'll teach me.  That does n't need legs, and he gets\nenough to live on very well.\"\n\n\"It is n't pretty work.  Nanna can teach you to braid straw as she did\nat home; that is easy and nice, and the baskets sell very well, she\nsays.  I shall speak to her about it, and you can try to-morrow when you\ncome.\"\n\n\"I will.  Do you really think I _can_ come, then?\"  And Johnny stood up\nto try his legs; for he dreaded the long walk, as it seemed to him.\n\n\"I will go at once and ask papa.\"\n\nAway flew Fay, and soon came back with a glad \"Yes!\" that sent Johnny\nhobbling in to tell his mother, and beg her to mend the elbows of his\nonly jacket; for, suddenly, his old clothes looked so shabby he feared\nto show himself to the neighbors he so longed to see.\n\n\"Hurrah!  I 'm really going to-morrow.  And you, too, mammy dear,\" cried\nthe boy, waving his crutch so vigorously that he slipped and fell.\n\n\"Never mind; I 'm used to it.  Pull me up, and I 'll rest while we talk\nabout it,\" he said cheerily, as his mother helped him to the bed, where\nhe forgot his pain in thinking of the delights in store for him.\n\nNext day, the flag was flying from the wall, and Fay early at the hole,\nbut no Johnny came; and when Nanna went to see what kept him, she\nreturned with the sad news that the poor boy was suffering much, and\nwould not be able to stir for some days.\n\n\"Let me go and see him,\" begged Fay, imploringly.\n\n\"Cara mia, it is no place for you.  So dark, so damp, so poor, it is\nenough to break the heart,\" said Nanna, decidedly.\n\n\"If papa was here, he would let me go.  I shall not play; I shall sit\nhere and make some plans for my poor boy.\"\n\nNanna left her indignant little mistress, and went to cook a nice bowl\nof soup for Johnny; while Fay concocted a fine plan, and, what was more\nremarkable, carried it out.\n\nFor a week it rained, for a week Johnny lay in pain, and for a week Fay\nworked quietly at her little easel in the corner of the studio, while\nher father put the last touches to his fine picture, too busy to take\nmuch notice of the child. On Saturday the sun shone, Johnny was better,\nand the great picture was done.  So were the small ones; for as her\nfather sat resting after his work, Fay went to him, with a tired but\nhappy face, and, putting several drawings into his hand, told her\ncherished plan.\n\n\"Papa, you said you would pay me a dollar for every good copy I made of\nthe cast you gave me.  I tried very hard, and here are three. I want\nsome money very, very much.  Could you pay for these?\"\n\n\"They are excellent,\" said the artist, after carefully looking at them.\n\"You _have_ tried, my good child, and here are your well-earned dollars.\nWhat do you want them for?\"\n\n\"To help my boy.  I want him to come in here and see the pictures, and\nlet Nanna teach him to plait baskets; and he can rest, and you will like\nhim, and he might get well if he had some money, and I have three\nquarters the friends gave me instead of bonbons.  Would that be enough\nto send poor Giovanni into the country and have doctors?\"\n\nNo wonder Fay's papa was bewildered by this queer jumble, because, being\nabsorbed in his work, he had never heard half the child had told him,\nand had forgotten all about Johnny.  Now he listened with half an ear,\nstudying the effect of sunshine upon his picture meantime, while Fay\ntold him the little story, and begged to know how much money it would\ntake to make Johnny's back well.\n\n\"Bless your sweet soul, my darling, it would need more than I can spare\nor you earn in a year.  By and by, when I am at leisure, we will see\nwhat can be done,\" answered papa, smoking comfortably, as he lay on the\nsofa in the large studio at the top of the house.\n\n\"You say that about a great many things, papa.  'By and by' won't be\nlong enough to do all you promise then.  I like _now_ much better, and\npoor Giovanni needs the country more than you need cigars or I new\nfrocks,\" said Fay, stroking her father's tired forehead and looking at\nhim with an imploring face.\n\n\"My dear, I cannot give up my cigar, for in this soothing smoke I find\ninspiration, and though you are a little angel, you must be clothed; so\nwait a bit, and we will attend to the boy--later.\"  He was going to say\n\"by and by\" again, but paused just in time, with a laugh.\n\n\"Then _I_ shall take him to the country all myself.  I cannot wait for\nthis hateful 'by and by.'  I know how I shall do it, and at once. Now,\nnow!\" cried Fay, losing patience; and with an indignant glance at the\nlazy papa, who seemed going to sleep, she dashed out of the room, down\nmany stairs, through the kitchen, startling Nanna and scattering the\nsalad as if a whirlwind had gone by, and never paused for breath till\nshe stood before the garden wall with a little hatchet in her hand.\n\n\"This shall be the country for him till I get enough money to send him\naway.  I will show what _I_ can do.  He pulled out two bricks.  _I_ will\nbeat down the wall, and he _shall_ come in at once,\" panted Fay; and she\ngave a great blow at the bricks, bent on having her will without\ndelay,--for she was an impetuous little creature, full of love and pity\nfor the poor boy pining for the fresh air and sunshine, of which she had\nso much.\n\nBang, bang, went the little hatchet, and down came one brick after\nanother, till the hole was large enough for Fay to thrust her head\nthrough; and being breathless by that time, she paused to rest and take\na look at Johnny's court.\n\nMeanwhile Nanna, having collected her lettuce leaves and her wits, went\nto see what the child was about; and finding her at work like a little\nfury, the old woman hurried up to tell \"the Signor,\" Fay's papa, that\nhis little daughter was about to destroy the garden and bury herself\nunder the ruins of the wall.  This report, delivered with groans and\nwringing of the hands, roused the artist and sent him to the rescue, as\nhe well knew that his angel was a very energetic one, and capable of\ngreat destruction.\n\nWhen he arrived, he beheld a cloud of dust, a pile of bricks among the\nlilies, and the feet of his child sticking out of a large hole in the\nwall, while her head and shoulders were on the other side.  Much amused,\nyet fearful that the stone coping might come down on her, he pulled her\nback with the assurance that he would listen and help her now\nimmediately, if there was such need of haste.\n\nBut he grew sober when he saw Fay's face; for it was bathed in tears,\nher hands were bleeding, and dust covered her from head to foot.\n\n\"My darling, what afflicts you?  Tell papa, and he will do anything you\nwish.\"\n\n\"No, you will forget, you will say 'Wait;' and now that I have seen it\nall, I cannot stop till I get him out of that dreadful place.  Look,\nlook, and see if it is not sad to live there all in pain and darkness,\nand so poor.\"\n\nAs she spoke, Fay urged her father toward the hole; and to please her he\nlooked, seeing the dull court, the noisy street beyond, and close by the\nlow room, where Johnny's mother worked all day, while the poor boy's\npale face was dimly seen as he lay on his bed waiting for deliverance.\n\n\"Well, well, it _is_ a pitiful case; and easily mended, since Fay is so\neager about it.  Hope the lad is all she says, and nothing catching\nabout his illness.  Nanna can tell me.\"\n\nThen he drew back his head, and leading Fay to the seat, took her on his\nknee, all flushed, dirty, and tearful as she was, soothing her by saying\ntenderly,--\n\n\"Now let me hear all about it, and be sure I 'll not forget.  What shall\nI do to please you, dear, before you pull down the house about my ears?\"\n\nThen Fay told her tale all over again; and being no longer busy, her\nfather found it very touching, with the dear, grimy little face looking\ninto his, and the wounded hands clasped beseechingly as she pleaded for\npoor Johnny.\n\n\"God bless your tender heart, child; you shall have him in here\nto-morrow, and we will see what can be done for those pathetic legs of\nhis.  But listen, Fay, I have an easier way to do it than yours, and a\ngrand surprise for the boy.  Time is short, but it can be done; and to\nshow you that I am in earnest, I will go this instant and begin the\nwork.  Come and wash your face while I get on my boots, and then we will\ngo together.\"\n\nAt these words Fay threw her arms about papa's neck and gave him many\ngrateful kisses, stopping in the midst to ask,--\n\n\"Truly, _now_?\"\n\n\"See if it is not so.\"  And putting her down, papa went off with great\nstrides, while she ran laughing after him, all her doubts set at rest by\nthis agreeable energy on his part.\n\nIf Johnny had not been asleep in the back room, he would have seen\nstrange and pleasant sights that afternoon and evening; for something\nwent on in the court that delighted his mother, amused the artist, and\nmade Fay the happiest child in Boston.  No one was to tell till the next\nday, that Johnny's surprise might be quite perfect, and Mrs. Morris sat\nup till eleven to get his old clothes in order; for Fay's papa had been\nto see her, and became interested in the boy, as no one could help being\nwhen they saw his patient little face.\n\nSo hammers rang, trowels scraped, shovels dug, and wonderful changes\nwere made, while Fay danced about in the moonlight, like Puck intent\nupon some pretty prank, and papa quoted _Snout_,[#] the tinker's parting\nwords, as appropriate to the hour,--\n\n    \"Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;\n    And, being done, thus wall away doth go.\"\n\n\n[#] A character in Shakspeare's \"Midsummer Night's Dream.\"\n\n\n\n                               PART III.\n\n\nA lovely Sunday morning dawned without a cloud; and even in the dingy\ncourt the May sunshine shone warmly, and the spring breezes blew freshly\nfrom green fields far away.  Johnny begged to go out; and being much\nbetter, his mother consented, helping him to dress with such a bright\nface and eager hands that the boy said innocently,--\n\n\"How glad you are when I get over a bad turn!  I don't know what you 'd\ndo if I ever got well.\"\n\n\"My poor dear, I begin to think you _will_ pick up, now the good weather\nhas come and you have got a little friend to play with.  God bless her!\"\n\nWhy his mother should suddenly hug him tight, and then brush his hair so\ncarefully, with tears in her eyes, he did not understand; but was in\nsuch a hurry to get out, he could only give her a good kiss, and hobble\naway to see how his gallery fared after the rain, and to take a joyful\n\"peek\" at the enchanted garden.\n\nMrs. Morris kept close behind him, and it was well she did; for he\nnearly tumbled down, so great was his surprise when he beheld the old\nfamiliar wall after the good fairies Love and Pity had worked their\npretty miracle in the moonlight.\n\nThe ragged hole had changed to a little arched door, painted red.  On\neither side stood a green tub, with a tall oleander in full bloom; from\nthe arch above hung a great bunch of gay flowers; and before the\nthreshold lay a letter directed to \"Signor Giovanni Morris,\" in a\nchildish hand.\n\nAs soon as he recovered from the agreeable shock of this splendid\ntransformation scene, Johnny sank into his chair, where a soft cushion\nhad been placed, and read his note, with little sighs of rapture at the\ncharming prospect opening before him.\n\n\nDEAR GIOVANNI,--Papa has made this nice gate, so you can come in when\nyou like and not be tired. We are to have two keys, and no one else can\nopen it. A little bell is to ring when we pull the cord, and we can run\nand see what we want.  The paint is wet. Papa did it, and the men put up\nthe door last night. I helped them, and did not go in my bed till ten.\nIt was very nice to do it so.  I hope you will like it. Come in as soon\nas you can; I am all ready.\n\nYour friend,\n       FAY.\n\n\n\"Mother, she must be a real fairy to do all that, mustn't she?\" said\nJohnny, leaning back to look at the dear door behind which lay such\nhappiness for him.\n\n\"Yes, my sonny, she is the right sort of good fairy, and I just wish I\ncould do her washing for love the rest of her blessed little life,\"\nanswered Mrs. Morris, in a burst of grateful ardor.\n\n\"You shall! you shall!  Do come in!  I cannot wait another minute!\"\ncried an eager little voice as the red door flew open; and there stood\nFay, looking very like a happy elf in her fresh white frock, a wreath of\nspring flowers on her pretty hair, and a tall green wand in her hand,\nwhile the brilliant bird sat on her shoulder, and the little white dog\ndanced about her feet.\n\n    \"So she bids you to come in,\n    With a dimple in your chin,\n      Billy boy, Billy boy,\"\n\nsung the child, remembering how Johnny liked that song; and waving her\nwand, she went slowly backward as the boy, with a shining face, passed\nunder the blooming arch into a new world, full of sunshine, liberty, and\nsweet companionship.\n\nNeither Johnny nor his mother ever forgot that happy day, for it was the\nbeginning of help and hope to both just when life seemed hardest and the\nfuture looked darkest.\n\nPapa kept out of sight, but enjoyed peeps at the little party as they\nsat under the chestnuts, Nanna and Fay doing the honors of the garden to\ntheir guests with Italian grace and skill, while the poor mother folded\nher tired hands with unutterable content, and the boy looked like a\nhappy soul in heaven.\n\nSabbath silence, broken only by the chime of bells and the feet of\nchurch-goers, brooded over the city; sunshine made golden shadows on the\ngrass; the sweet wind brought spring odors from the woods; and every\nflower seemed to nod and beckon, as if welcoming the new playmate to\ntheir lovely home.\n\nWhile the women talked together, Fay led Johnny up and down her little\nworld, showing all her favorite nooks, making him rest often on the\nseats that stood all about, and amusing him immensely by relating the\nvarious fanciful plays with which she beguiled her loneliness.\n\n\"Now we can have much nicer ones; for you will tell me yours, and we can\ndo great things,\" she said, when she had displayed her big\nrocking-horse, her grotto full of ferns, her mimic sea, where a fleet of\ntoy boats lay at anchor in the basin of an old fountain, her fairy-land\nunder the lilacs, with paper elves sitting among the leaves, her swing,\nthat tossed one high up among the green boughs, and the basket of white\nkittens, where Topaz, the yellow-eyed cat, now purred with maternal\npride.  Books were piled on the rustic table, and all the pictures Fay\nthought worthy to be seen.\n\nHere also appeared a nice lunch, before the visitors could remember it\nwas noon and tear themselves away.  Such enchanted grapes and oranges\nJohnny never ate before; such delightful little tarts and Italian messes\nof various sorts; even the bread and butter seemed glorified because\nserved in a plate trimmed with leaves and cut in dainty bits.  Coffee\nthat perfumed the air put heart into poor Mrs. Morris, who half starved\nherself that the boy might be fed; and he drank milk till Nanna said,\nlaughing, as she refilled the pitcher,--\n\n\"He takes more than both the blessed lambs we used to feed for Saint\nAgnes in the convent at home.  And he is truly welcome, the dear child,\nto the best we have; for he is as innocent and helpless as they.\"\n\n\"What does she mean?\" whispered Johnny to Fay, rather abashed at having\nforgotten his manners in the satisfaction which three mugfuls of good\nmilk had given him.\n\nSo, sitting in the big rustic chair beside him, Fay told the pretty\nstory of the lambs who are dedicated to Saint Agnes, with ribbons tied\nto their snowy wool, and then raised with care till their fleeces are\nshorn to make garments for the Pope.  A fit tale for the day, the child\nthought, and went on to tell about the wonders of Rome till Johnny's\nhead was filled with a splendid confusion of new ideas, in which Saint\nPeter's and apple-tarts, holy lambs and red doors, ancient images and\ndear little girls, were delightfully mixed.  It all seemed like a fairy\ntale, and nothing was too wonderful or lovely to happen on that\nmemorable day.\n\nSo when Fay's papa at last appeared, finding it impossible to keep away\nfrom the happy little party any longer, Johnny decided at once that the\nhandsome man in the velvet coat was the king of the enchanted land, and\ngazed at him with reverence and awe.  A most gracious king he proved to\nbe; for after talking pleasantly to Mrs. Morris, and joking Fay on\nstorming the walls, he proposed to carry Johnny off, and catching him\nup, strode away with the astonished boy on his shoulder, while the\nlittle girl danced before to open doors and clear the way.\n\nJohnny thought he could n't be surprised any more; but when he had\nmounted many stairs and found himself in a great room with a glass roof,\nfull of rich curtains, strange armor, pretty things, and pictures\neverywhere, he just sat in the big chair where he was placed, and stared\nin silent delight.\n\n\"This is papa's studio, and that the famous picture, and here is where I\nwork; and is n't it pleasant? and aren't you glad to see it?\" said Fay,\nskipping about to do the honors of the place.\n\n\"I don't believe heaven is beautifuller,\" answered Johnny, in a low\ntone, as his eyes went from the green tree-tops peeping in at the\nwindows to the great sunny picture of a Roman garden, with pretty\nchildren at play among the crumbling statues and fountains.\n\n\"I 'm glad you like it, for we mean to have you come here a great deal.\nI sit to papa very often, and get _so_ tired; and you can talk to me,\nand then you can see me draw and model in clay, and then we 'll go in\nthe garden, and Nanna will show you how to make baskets, and _then_ we\n'll play.\"\n\nJohnny nodded and beamed at this charming prospect, and for an hour\nexplored the mysteries of the studio, with Fay for a guide and papa for\nan amused spectator.  He liked the boy more and more, and was glad Fay\nhad so harmless a playmate to expend her energies and compassion upon.\nHe assented to every plan proposed, and really hoped to be able to help\nthese poor neighbors; for he had a kind heart, and loved his little\ndaughter even more than his art.\n\nWhen at last Mrs. Morris found courage to call Johnny away, he went\nwithout a word, and lay down in the dingy room, his face still shining\nwith the happy thoughts that filled his mind, hungry for just such\npleasures, and never fed before.\n\nAfter that day everything went smoothly, and both children blossomed\nlike the flowers in that pleasant garden, where the magic of love and\npity, fresh air and sunshine, soon worked miracles.  Fay learned\npatience and gentleness from Johnny; he grew daily stronger on the\nbetter food Nanna gave him, and the exercise he was tempted to take; and\nboth spent very happy days working and playing, sometimes under the\ntrees, where the pretty baskets were made, or in the studio, where both\npairs of small hands modelled graceful things in clay, or daubed amazing\npictures with the artist's old brushes and discarded canvases.\n\nMrs. Morris washed everything washable in the house, and did up Fay's\nfrocks so daintily that she looked more like an elf than ever when her\nhead shone out from the fluted frills, like the yellow middle of a daisy\nwith its white petals all spread.\n\nAs he watched the children playing together, the artist, having no great\nwork in hand, made several pretty sketches of them, and then had a fine\nidea of painting the garden scene where Fay first talked to Johnny.  It\npleased his fancy, and the little people sat for him nicely; so he made\na charming thing of it, putting in the cat, dog, bird, and toad as the\nvarious characters in Shakspeare's lovely play, while the flowers were\nthe elves, peeping and listening in all manner of merry, pretty ways.\n\nHe called it \"Little Pyramus and Thisbe,\" and it so pleased a certain\nrich lady that she paid a large price for it; and then, discovering that\nit told a true story, she generously added enough to send Johnny and his\nmother to the country, when Fay and her father were ready to go.\n\nBut it was to a lovelier land than the boy had ever read of in his fairy\nbooks, and to a happier life than mending shoes in the dingy court.  In\nthe autumn they all sailed gayly away together, to live for years in\nsunny Italy, where Johnny grew tall and strong, and learned to paint\nwith a kind master and a faithful young friend, who always rejoiced that\nshe found and delivered him, thanks to the wonderful hole in the wall.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: She got too lazy to care for anything but sleeping and\neating.  PAGE 219.]\n\n\n\n                                   X.\n\n                            THE PIGGY GIRL.\n\n\n\"I won't be washed!  I won't be washed!\" screamed little Betty, kicking\nand slapping the maid who undressed her one night.\n\n\"You 'd better go and live with the pigs, dirty child,\" said Maria,\nscrubbing away at two very grubby hands.\n\n\"I wish I could!  I love to be dirty,--I will be dirty!\" roared Betty,\nthrowing the sponge out of the window and the soap under the table.\n\nMaria could do nothing with her; so she bundled her into bed half wiped,\ntelling her to go to sleep right away.\n\n\"I won't!  I 'll go and live with Mrs. Gleason's pigs, and have nothing\nto do but eat and sleep, and roll in the dirt, and never, never be\nwashed any more,\" said Betty to herself.\n\nShe lay thinking about it and blinking at the moon for a while; then she\ngot up very softly, and crept down the back stairs, through the garden,\nto the sty where two nice little pigs were fast asleep among the straw\nin their small house. They only grunted when Betty crept into a corner,\nlaughing at the fun it would be to play piggy and live here with no\nMaria to wash her and no careful mamma to keep saying,--\n\n\"Put on a clean apron, dear!\"\n\nNext morning she was waked up by hearing Mrs. Gleason pour milk into the\ntrough.  She lay very still till the woman was gone; then she crept out\nand drank all she wanted, and took the best bits of cold potato and\nbread for her breakfast, and the lazy pigs did not get up till she was\ndone.  While they ate and rooted in the dirt, Betty slept as long as she\nliked, with no school, no errands, no patchwork to do.  She liked it,\nand kept hidden till night; then she went home, and opened the little\nwindow in the store closet, and got in and took as many good things to\neat and carry away as she liked.  She had a fine walk in her nightgown,\nand saw the flowers asleep, heard the little birds chirp in the nest,\nand watched the fireflies and moths at their pretty play.  No one saw\nher but the cats; and they played with her, and hopped at her toes, in\nthe moonlight, and had great fun.\n\nWhen she was tired she went to sleep with the pigs, and dozed all the\nnext day, only coming out to eat and drink when the milk was brought and\nthe cold bits; for Mrs. Gleason took good care of her pigs, and gave\nthem clean straw often, and kept them as nice as she could.\n\nBetty lived in this queer way a long time, and soon looked more like a\npig than a little girl; for her nightgown got dirty, her hair was never\ncombed, her face was never washed, and she loved to dig in the mud till\nher hands looked like paws.  She never talked, but began to grunt as the\npigs did, and burrowed into the straw to sleep, and squealed when they\ncrowded her, and quarrelled over the food, eating with her nose in the\ntrough like a real pig.  At first she used to play about at night, and\nsteal things to eat; and people set traps to catch the thief in their\ngardens, and the cook in her own house scolded about the rats that\ncarried off the cake and pies out of her pantry.  But by and by she got\ntoo lazy and fat to care for anything but sleeping and eating, and never\nleft the sty.  She went on her hands and knees now, and began to wonder\nif a little tail would n't grow and her nose change to a snout.\n\nAll summer she played be a pig, and thought it good fun; but when the\nautumn came it was cold, and she longed for her nice warm flannel\nnightgown, and got tired of cold victuals, and began to wish she had a\nfire to sit by and good buckwheat cakes to eat.  She was ashamed to go\nhome, and wondered what she should do after this silly frolic.  She\nasked the pigs how they managed in winter; but they only grunted, and\nshe could not remember what became of them, for the sty was always empty\nin cold weather.\n\nOne dreadful night she found out.  She was smuggled down between the\ngreat fat piggies to keep warm; but her toes were cold, and she was\ntrying to pull the straw over them when she heard Mr. Gleason say to his\nboy,--\n\n\"We must kill those pigs to-morrow.  They are fat enough; so come and\nhelp me sharpen the big knife.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, what will become of _me_?\" thought Betty, as she heard the\ngrindstone go round and round as the knife got sharper and sharper.  \"I\nlook so like a pig they will kill me too, and make me into sausages if I\ndon't run away.  I 'm tired of playing piggy, and I 'd rather be washed\na hundred times a day than be put in a pork barrel.\"\n\nSo she lay trembling till morning; then she ran through the garden and\nfound the back door open.  It was very early, and no one saw her, for\nthe cook was in the shed getting wood to make her fire; so Betty slipped\nupstairs to the nursery and was going to whisk into bed, when she saw in\nthe glass an ugly black creature, all rags and dirt, with rumpled hair,\nand a little round nose covered with mud.\n\n\"Can it be me?\" she said.  \"How horrid I am!\"  And she could not spoil\nher nice white bed, but hopped into the bathtub and had a good\nscrubbing.  Next she got a clean nightgown, and brushed her hair, and\ncut her long nails, and looked like a tidy little girl again.\n\nThen she lay down in her cosey crib with the pink cover and the lace\ncurtains, and fell fast asleep, glad to have clean sheets, soft\nblankets, and her own little pillow once more.\n\n\n\"Come, darling, wake up and see the new frock I have got for you, and\nthe nice ruffled apron.  It's Thanksgiving day, and all the cousins are\ncoming to dinner,\" said her mamma, with a soft kiss on the rosy cheek.\n\nBetty started up, screaming,--\n\n\"Don't kill me!  Oh, please don't!  I 'm not a truly pig, I 'm a little\ngirl; and if you'll let me run home, I 'll never fret when I 'm washed\nagain.\"\n\n\"What is the dear child afraid of?\" said mamma, cuddling her close, and\nlaughing to see Betty stare wildly about for the fat pigs and the stuffy\nsty.\n\nShe told her mother all about the queer time she had had, and was much\nsurprised to hear mamma say,--\n\n\"It was all a dream, dear; you have been safely asleep in your little\nbed ever since you slapped poor Maria last night.\"\n\n\"Well, I 'm glad I dreamed it, for it has made me love to be clean.\nCome, Maria, soap and scrub as much as you like, I won't kick and scream\never any more,\" cried Betty, skipping about, glad to be safe in her\npleasant home and no longer a dirty, lazy piggy girl.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: She was rocking a small tadpole to sleep.--PAGE 238.]\n\n\n\n                                     XI.\n                            THE THREE FROGS.\n\n\nHop, Croak, and Splash were three little frogs who lived in a pleasant\nriver, and had merry times swimming about or hopping on the green grass.\nAt night they sat on the bank and sung together, very sweetly they\nthought; and if boats came by they skipped into the water, heels over\nhead, with a great splashing and noise.\n\nHop was not contented with this quiet life; he wanted to see the world,\nand kept asking his brother Croak to go and travel with him.\n\n\"I 'm tired of poking about in this stupid river, with no fun but\nleap-frog and singing.  I want to know what is over that hill, and I 'm\ngoing to find out.  You can stay and doze in the mud if you please.  I\n've got more spirit than that, and I 'm off.\"\n\nSo away went Hop, singing gayly,--\n\n    \"A frog he would a-wooing go,\n    Whether his mammy would let him or no,\n    With a roly-poly, gammon and spinach,\n    Heigh-ho, said Anthony Rowley.\"\n\n\nHis good little sister Splash begged him to stay, for the world was full\nof danger and he was too young to go alone.  But Hop told her not to\nworry.  Girls ought to keep at home, for they could n't take care of\nthemselves; but fine young fellows should see something of life before\nthey settled down.  His friend Turtle had invited him to go; and if such\na slow chap as Creeper could start on a journey, of course the best\njumper in the river would get on all right.\n\nWhile he was saying good-by, the turtle had crept up the bank and was\nwell on his way to the road beyond.  Hop skipped after him; and when\nthey had got to the hill-top they stopped to rest,--Creeper in the road\non the warm sand, and Hop among some daisies close by.\n\n\"How big the world is!\" he said, staring with his great eyes; for he had\nnever seen houses before, and the village looked as grand to him as\nLondon would to us.  \"I like it, and I know I shall have a splendid\ntime.  Come on, slow coach!  I see fountains over there, and want a good\ndrink.\"\n\nJust as he spoke a cart came by; and before poor Creeper could get out\nof the way, a wheel crushed him to death.\n\n\"Mercy on us! what horrid monsters those are!\" cried Hop, leaping as\nfast as his legs could take him into a garden near by, where he lay\ntrembling and scared half out of his wits.  He thought the cart was a\ncreature; and every time he heard the rumble of wheels his heart beat\nand he clasped his hands in fear as he sat under the burdock leaves.  At\nlast it seemed so quiet he ventured out, and had a lovely time in the\nnasturtium-bed, catching flies and playing bo-peep with a little bird.\nThen he hopped to the grass-plot, where the sprinkler was whizzing\nround, and took a refreshing bath.  He was just puffing his skin out and\nwinking with pleasure when a fat toad, who lived under the piazza, told\nhim very crossly to \"clear out.\"\n\n\"You are a very rude old person, and I shall do as I like.  This is not\nyour garden; so you need n't goggle at me,\" answered saucy Hop, opening\nhis wide mouth to laugh at the toad, who was so fat he could n't take\nlong leaps like the lively frog.\n\n\"Very well, dandiprat, I shall call the cat; and she will make you skip,\nunless you want that fine green jacket torn off your back by her sharp\nclaws,\" said the toad, hopping slowly away to the sunny corner where a\ngray cat lay dozing.\n\n\"Pooh'!  I 'm not afraid,\" said Hop; for he had never seen a cat, and\nthought the toad made it all up.\n\nSo he took a leisurely stroll down the walk, looking about him as if he\nowned the whole garden.  Presently he saw a pretty little creature\nplaying with leaves, and hurried on to speak to it, being eager to find\nfriends in this pleasant place.  You see, when the toad told the cat\nabout the stranger, pussy only gaped and went to sleep again, not caring\nto play with any one.  But the kitten who lay beside her was curious to\nsee a frog, and ran off at once to find him.  Hop did not know that this\nwas the cat's daughter, till kitty pounced on him as if he had been a\nmouse, and instead of playing some nice game and telling all about the\nnew world, as Hop expected, she clawed and bit him, tossed him up, and\nlet him bump down again on the hard ground.  He tried to get away, but\nshe let him hop a little and then pounced again, cuffing him with her\npaws, and dragging him about till he was half dead.\n\nHe believed the old toad now, and thought the end of the world had come.\nIt would have been the end of the world for him, if a dog had not\nbounced into the garden and made kitty fly up a tree, spitting and\nglaring like a little dragon. Poor Hop crept under a gooseberry bush,\nand lay there longing for gentle Splash to tie up his wounds and comfort\nhis pain with spearmint from the river side and a cool lily-pad for a\nwet sheet to pack him in.\n\n\"It is an awful world, and I wish I was safe at home,\" he sighed, as the\nsun grew hot, the water was turned off, and the wind stopped blowing.\n\nBut he was too feeble to hop away, and lay there panting till night,\nwhen a shower saved his life; and early in the morning he started to\nfind the river before he got into any more troubles.\n\nHe went very slowly, being lame and sore; but got out of the garden and\nwas just planning to give one tremendous leap over the road, for fear he\nshould get crushed as Creeper did, when he heard a soft rustling behind\nhim, and saw a long, slender gray thing, with very bright eyes and a\nlittle tongue that darted out and in like a flash.\n\n\"I see no cruel claws; so it can't be a cat,\" thought Hop, feeling timid\nnow about making new friends.\n\n\"Pretty fellow, come here and talk to me,\" hissed the snake, longing to\neat the nice little froggie.\n\nHop felt rather nervous, but wished to be polite; so he let the stranger\ncoil lovingly round him and look right into his face while listening to\nthe tale of woe he gladly told.  Presently he found he could not stir at\nall, nor move his eyes from the fiery eyes before him, and the darting\ntongue seemed ready to sting.  Then he was frightened, and tried to\nescape; but he only gave one leap, for the snake caught him by the hind\nlegs and held him fast, while swallowing him slowly down.\n\n\"Help, help!\" cried Hop, in despair.  \"Croak! Splash! oh, come and save\nme, save me!\"\n\nBut there was no help; and in a few moments there was no frog, for the\nlast leg had vanished down the snake's throat.  Poor little Hop!\n\n\nCroak was a noisy fellow, and kept up a great racket trying to sing\nlouder than any of the other frogs; for he was very proud of his voice,\nand sat on a log at night saying, \"Ker honk! ker honk!\" till every one\nwas tired of hearing him.\n\nThe old ones told him not to wear his throat out till his voice was\nstronger; but he thought they envied him its power and sweetness, and\ncroaked away louder than ever.\n\nThe boys who came to the river to bathe used to mock him, and try to see\nwhich frog sung so loud.  This pleased him; and instead of keeping still\nand staying among his friends, silly Croak went and sat on a rock alone,\nthat all might see and hear the great singer.\n\n\"Now,\" said the boys, \"we can catch him and keep him in a tub; and when\nwe are tired of his noise we can rap him on the head and make him be\nstill.\"\n\nSo while the vain frog sat croaking at the top of his voice, two of the\nboys swam up to the rock and threw a net over him.  He kicked and\nstruggled; but they had him fast, and tied him up in a bundle till they\ngot to the tub, and there they left him with a little grass, saying,--\n\n\"Now sing away, old fellow, and make yourself comfortable.\"\n\nBut Croak could not sing, he was so frightened and unhappy; for he was\nhungry and tired, and they did n't give him the right things to eat, nor\nany mossy log to rest on.  They poked him with sticks, took him up to\nlook at his funny toes, opened his big mouth, and held him by one leg to\nsee him kick.  He tried to climb out; but the sides of the tub were\nslippery, and he had to give it up.  He kept swimming and floating till\nhe was tired out, and ate bread-crumbs and grass to keep from starving;\nbut he was very miserable, though children came to hear him sing, and he\nhad nothing else to do.\n\n\"This is n't what I meant,\" sighed Croak, \"and if ever I get out of this\nold tub, I 'll keep very still and never try to make a noise in the\nworld again.\"\n\nAmong the children was one kind little girl who pitied the poor frog,\nand one day when she was alone took him up carefully and put him on the\ngrass, saying,--\n\n\"Run away, froggie, home to your mamma, and don't tell the boys I set\nyou free.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my dear; those bad boys will never see or hear me again,\"\nanswered Croak, hopping off as fast as he could go, never minding in his\nhurry that he was not taking the road to the river.\n\nAfter he had gone a long way he came to a tank where a great many frogs\nseemed to be having a very nice time; for there was plenty of food,\nstones to sit on, and fresh water flowing in all the time.\n\n\"Ah! these must be very elegant people to live in this luxurious way.\nThey sing pretty well, but not one has a splendid deep voice like mine.\nI 'll jump in and astonish them with my best song,\" said Croak, after he\nhad watched and listened for a while.\n\nIf he had only known that these frogs were kept there to be fattened for\nan old French gentleman to eat, he would have skipped away and saved his\nlife; but he was so anxious to show off his voice, that he gave a jump\nand went splash into the tank, startling the others and making a great\ncommotion.  He liked that; and getting up on the highest stone, gave\nthem his favorite \"Ker honk\" song, till the air rang with the sound.\n\nThe other frogs were much impressed, for they thought it fine music; so\nthey gathered round, and shook hands and welcomed the stranger, sure\nthat he must be a distinguished musician, he put on such airs.  Now\nCroak was in his glory, and puffed himself out, and goggled at the\nlady-frogs till they put up their fans of green flag to hide their\nsmiles.  The young fellows tried to imitate him, till the tank was such\na noisy place the old gentleman said to his cook,--\n\n\"Kill off a dozen of the fattest for dinner, and stop that din out\nthere.\"\n\nThe frogs had told Croak that every now and then some of them were\nchosen to go and live in the great house; and all were eager to find out\nwhat good fortune had happened to their friends, for none ever came back\nto tell the sad truth.  So when they saw the man in the white cap and\napron come to the tank and look down at them, they all began to skip and\nprance, hoping to be chosen.\n\nWith a long-handled net the cook picked out the fattest and put them in\na covered pail till he had his dozen.  Croak had not been there long\nenough to get very plump, so he would have escaped that time if he had\nheld his tongue. But he could n't keep still, and made such a terrible\nnoise the cook said,--\n\n\"I must catch and quiet that rascal, or my master will go distracted.\"\nSo he held the net open; and that silly frog hopped in, little dreaming\nthat he had sung his last song.\n\n\"Now we shall see fine things.  Good-by, you poor dears!  Be patient\ntill your turn comes,\" he cried, as the bucket was carried away to the\nkitchen.\n\nCroak was disappointed when he saw nothing but pots and pans and a great\nfire; for the vain fellow really thought he was chosen to sing before\nsome fine people.  But his disappointment turned to horror when he saw\nhis friends taken out one by one and their poor little legs cut off to\nfry for dinner.  That was the only part the cook used, and the rest he\nthrew away.  Croak was left to the last, as he was not to be eaten; and\nwhile he waited his turn, he dashed distractedly round and round the\npail, trying to get away, and croaking so dismally it was a wonder the\ncook did not take pity on him.  But he did not, and was just going\ntoward the pail with the big knife in his hand, when the old gentleman\ncame down to see if his orders were obeyed, for he thought a great deal\nof his dinner.  All the poor little legs lay in the pan ready to cook;\nand he was so pleased that he said, looking at the thin frog swimming\nabout in that lively way,--\n\n\"Ah! this is a very brisk fellow.  I will put him in my aquarium; the\ngold-fish and the crab will like a little society, I think.\"\n\nThen, catching Croak by one leg, he carried him upstairs and threw him\ninto the great glass box where several pretty gold-fish and one cross\ncrab lived together.  Croak was so glad to escape frying that he was\nvery quiet, humble, and good; and though his new home was a prison, he\ntried to be contented, and never complained when the lovely fish called\nhim ugly and the cross crab nipped his toes.  He was homesick, and\nlonged sadly for the pleasant river, the jolly games he used to have,\nand his dear little sister. He never sang now, fearing to be killed if\nhe did; but when the windows stood open through the summer night and he\nheard the music of his friends, he put his hands before his face and\ncried such bitter tears that the water grew quite salt.  He bore it as\nlong as he could; but his heart broke at last, and one day poor Croak\nwas found floating on the top of the tank quite dead.  So that was the\nend of him.\n\n\nGood little Splash lived at home all safe and happy, and was so kind to\nevery one that her neighbors loved her dearly and sung her praises at\ntheir evening concerts.\n\nNow, the Frog Prince wished to marry, and was looking about for a wife,\nas he was very particular.  So he wrapped himself up in a dead-leaf\ncloak, put an empty nut-shell on his head for a hood, and leaning on a\nbulrush staff, went hobbling along by the river like a poor old woman,\nbegging at the different houses, that he might see how the lady-frogs\nbehaved at home.\n\nWhen he rode out as the Prince on a field-mouse, with flags flying, and\nall his court about him, the young lady-frogs stood modestly by their\nmammas, all in their best, and curtsied sweetly as he went by.  But now\nhe came to the back doors, a poor beggar, and it was very different.\nSome were lazy and lay late in their beds of river weeds, while the\nmothers did the work; some were greedy and ate all the best flies\nthemselves; others slapped and scolded their little brothers and sisters\ninstead of taking care of them; and nearly all were vain.  The Prince\ncaught many looking at their bright eyes in still pools, or putting on\ncrowns of water flowers, or bathing in dew to keep the freckles from\ntheir faces.  They were always ready to dance at balls, to go boating,\nor sing at the concerts where all could hear them; but few were busy,\nsweet, and dutiful at home, and the Prince nowhere found the bride he\nwanted. He was very fond of music; so he listened to the concerts, and\nsoon began to wonder why they all sang a song with this chorus,--\n\n    \"Who is the fairest that swims in our river?\n      Who is the dearest frog under the sun?\n    Whose life is full of the sweetest endeavor?\n      Who is our busiest, happiest one?\n        Splash, Splash, darling thing!\n        All delight her praise to sing.\"\n\n\n\"I must find this lovely creature and see if she is all they say,\nbecause if she is I 'll make a Princess of her in the twinkling of an\neye,\" said the Prince; and he set off to look for Splash, for he was a\nvery energetic frog.\n\nHe soon found her, for she was always busy doing something for her\nneighbors; and he watched her teaching the little tadpoles to swim,\nhelping the old frogs out to sit in the sun when damp weather gave them\nrheumatism, or taking care of the sick ones, or feeding the poor, or\nrunning errands for busy mammas with large families and lazy daughters.\n\nIn her own little home all was as neat as wax, but so lonely she did not\nlike to stay there much. All day she helped others, and at evening sat\nat her door and thought sadly of her lost brothers. She was very pretty\nin her neat, gray gown and white apron, with her bright eyes, gentle\nface, and sweet voice; though she seldom sung, except lullabies to the\nlittle frogs and the sick folks.\n\nShe was rocking a small tadpole to sleep in this way one day, when the\ndisguised Prince came hobbling along, and asked for a bit to eat.\nPutting little Wiggle in his cobweb hammock, Splash said kindly,--\n\n\"Yes, old mother, come in and rest while I get you some dinner.  Here 's\na soft cushion of moss, and a leaf of water fresh from the spring.\"\n\nThe Prince sat a long time talking with her, and hearing about her\nbrothers, and seeing how sweet she was.  He made up his mind to marry at\nonce; for frogs don't spend a long time and much money getting\nready,--they just wash up their green and gray suits, and invite their\nfriends to the wedding.  The bride can always find a delicate cobweb on\nthe grass for a veil, and that is all she needs.\n\nThe Prince thought he would try one thing more; so he said to her,--\n\n\"I 'm very lame; will you take me to the palace? I want to see the\nPrince.  Do you know him?\"\n\n\"No; I 'm only a humble creature, and he would n't care to know me,\"\nsaid Splash, modestly.  \"But I admire him very much, he is so brave and\njust and good.  I love to see him go by, and always peep behind my\ncurtain, he is such a splendid sight.\"\n\nThe Prince blushed under the nut-shell cap at such praise, and was sure,\nfrom the way Splash spoke, that she loved him a little bit.  So he was\nvery happy and wanted to dance, but kept quiet and leaned on her arm as\nshe led him down the bank, put him nicely on a lily-pad, and rowed away,\nsmiling at him and talking so sweetly he got fonder and fonder of her\nevery moment.\n\nAt last they came to the palace, all made of white water-lilies, with\nred cardinal-flowers for flags, floors of green moss, and pink toadstool\ntables spread with acorn cups of honey, berries, and all the dainties\nfrogs love; for the Prince had sent a telegram by the wind to have a\nfeast ready.\n\n\"Come in.  I have something for you in return for your kindness to me.\nI 'm not what I seem, and in a moment you shall see who your new friend\nis,\" said the Prince, leading her into the great hall where the throne\nwas.\n\nThen he left her, wondering what was to happen, while he hurried to\nthrow off his old things and to put on his green velvet suit, his crown\nof cowslip, and the tall rush that was his sceptre. He looked very\nsplendid, with white silk stockings on his long legs, his fine eyes\nshining, and his speckled waistcoat puffed out with the joy of his\nheart.\n\nThe trumpets sounded; all the frogs of the court came marching in, with\nthe Prince at the head; and when they were seated at the tables, he took\nastonished Splash by the hand, and said in a loud voice,--\n\n\"This is your Queen,--the best, the loveliest in the land!  Bring the\nwedding veil; let the bells ring, and shout with me, 'Hurrah! hurrah for\nQueen Splash!'\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: They did n't look like heroines, those two shabby little\ngirls.  PAGE 242.]\n\n\n\n                                    XII.\n                               BAA!  BAA!\n\n\n                             BAA THE FIRST.\n\n\nThey did n't look at all like heroines, those two shabby little girls,\nas they trotted down the hill, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.\nTheir bare feet were scratched and brown, their hands were red with\nberry stains, and their freckled faces shone with heat under the\nflapping sun-bonnets.  But Patty and Tilda were going to do a fine piece\nof work, although they did not know it then, and were very full of their\nown small affairs as they went briskly toward the station to sell\nberries.\n\nThe tongues went as fast as the feet; for this was a great expedition,\nand both were much excited about it\n\n\"Don't they look lovely?\" said Tilda, proudly surveying her sister's\nload as she paused to change a heavy pail from one arm to the other.\n\n\"Perfectly de-licious!  I know folks will buy 'em, if we ain't too\nscared to offer 'em,\" answered Patty, stopping also to settle the two\ndozen little birch baskets full of red raspberries which she carried,\nprettily set forth, on an old waiter, trimmed with scarlet\nbunch-berries, white everlasting, and green leaves.\n\n\"I sha'n't be.  I 'll go right along and holler real loud,--see if I\ndon't.  I'm bound to have our books and boots for next winter; so just\nkeep thinking how nice they'll be, and push ahead,\" said stout-hearted\nTilda, the leader of the expedition.\n\n\"Hurry up.  I want to have time to sprinkle the posies, so they'll look\nfresh when the train comes.  I hope there'll be lots of children in it;\nthey always want to eat, ma says.\"\n\n\"It was real mean of Elviry Morris to go and offer to sell cheaper up to\nthe hotel than we did, and spoil our market.  Guess she'll wish she'd\nthought of this when we tell what we 've done down here.\"  And both\nchildren laughed with satisfaction as they trudged along, never minding\nthe two hot, dusty miles they had to go.\n\nThe station was out of the village, and the long trains carrying summer\ntravellers to the mountains stopped there once a day to meet the stages\nfor different places.  It was a pleasant spot, with a great pond on one\nside, deep forests on the other, and in the distance glimpses of gray\npeaks or green slopes inviting the weary city people to come and rest.\n\nEvery one seemed glad to get out during the ten minutes' pause, even if\ntheir journey was not yet ended; and while they stood about, enjoying\nthe fresh air from the pond, or watching the stages load up, Tilda and\nPatty planned to offer their tempting little baskets of fresh fruit and\nflowers.  It was a great effort, and their hearts beat with childish\nhope and fear as they came in sight of the station, with no one about\nbut the jolly stage-drivers lounging in the shade.\n\n\"Plenty of time.  Let's go to the pond and wash off the dust and get a\ndrink.  Folks won't see us behind those cars,\" said Tilda, glad to slip\nout of sight till the train arrived; for even her courage seemed to ooze\naway as the important moment approached.\n\nA long cattle-train stood on a side track waiting for the other one to\npass; and while the little girls splashed their feet in the cool water,\nor drank from their hands, a pitiful sound filled the air.  Hundreds of\nsheep, closely packed in the cars and suffering agonies from dust and\nheat and thirst, thrust their poor noses through the bars, bleating\nfrantically; for the sight of all that water, so near yet so impossible\nto reach, drove them wild.  Those farther down the track, who could not\nsee the blue lake, could smell it, and took up the cry till the woods\nechoed with it, and even the careless drivers said, with a glance of\npity,--\n\n\"Hard on the poor critters this hot day, ain't it?\"\n\n\"Oh, Tilda, hear 'em baa, and see 'em crowd this side to get at the\nwater!  Let's take 'em some in our pickin' dishes.  It's so dreadful to\nbe dry,\" said tender-hearted Patty, filling her pint cup, and running to\noffer it to the nearest pathetic nose outstretched to meet it.  A dozen\nthirsty tongues tried to lap it, and in the struggle the little cup was\nsoon emptied; but Patty ran for more, and Tilda did the same, both\ngetting so excited over the distress of the poor creatures that they\nnever heard the far-off whistle of their train, and continued running to\nand fro on their errand of mercy, careless of their own weary feet, hot\nfaces, and the precious flowers withering in the sun.\n\nThey did not see a party of people sitting near by under the trees, who\nwatched them and listened to their eager talk with smiling interest.\n\n\"Run, Patty; this poor little one is half dead. Throw some water in his\nface while I make this big one stop walking on him.  Oh, dear!  There\nare so many!  We can't help half, and our mugs are so small!\"\n\n\"I know what I 'll do, Tilda,--tip out the berries into my apron, and\nbring up a nice lot at once,\" cried Patty, half beside herself with\npity.\n\n\"It will spoil your apron and mash the berries, but never mind.  I don't\ncare if we don't sell one if we can help these poor dear lammies,\"\nanswered energetic Tilda, dashing into the pond up to her ankles to fill\nthe pail, while Patty piled up the fruit in her plaid apron.\n\n\"Oh, my patience me! the train is coming!\" cried Patty, as a shrill\nshriek woke the echoes, and an approaching rumble was heard.\n\n\"Let it come.  I won't leave this sheep till it's better.  You go and\nsell the first lot; I 'll come as quick as I can,\" commanded Tilda, so\nbusy reviving the exhausted animal that she could not stop even to begin\nthe cherished new plan.\n\n\"I don't dare go alone; you come and call out, and I 'll hold the\nwaiter,\" quavered poor Patty, looking sadly scared as the long train\nrolled by with a head at every window.\n\n\"Don't be a goose.  Stay here and work, then; I 'll go and sell every\nbasket.  I 'm so mad about these poor things, I ain't afraid of\nanybody,\" cried Tilda, with a last refreshing splash among the few\nfavored sheep, as she caught up the tray and marched off to the\nplatform,--a very hot, wet, shabby little girl, but with a breast full\nof the just indignation and tender pity that go to redress half the\nwrongs of this great world.\n\n\"Oh, mamma, see the pretty baskets! do buy some, I 'm so thirsty and\ntired,\" exclaimed more than one eager little traveller, as Tilda held up\nher tray, crying bravely,--\n\n\"Fresh berries! fresh berries! ten cents! only ten cents!\"\n\nThey were all gone in ten minutes; and if Patty had been with her, the\npail might have been emptied before the train left.  But the other\nlittle Samaritan was hard at work; and when her sister joined her,\nproudly displaying a handful of silver, she was prouder still to show\nher woolly invalid feebly nibbling grass from her hand.\n\n\"We might have sold everyone,--folks liked 'em ever so much; and next\ntime we 'll have two dozen baskets apiece.  But we 'll have to be spry,\nfor some of the children fuss about picking out the one they like.  It's\nreal fun, Patty,\" said Tilda, tying up the precious dimes in a corner of\nher dingy little handkerchief.\n\n\"So's this,\" answered the other, with a last loving pat of her patient's\nnose, as the train began to move, and car after car of suffering sheep\npassed them with plaintive cries and vain efforts to reach the blessed\nwater of which they were in such dreadful need.\n\nPoor Patty could n't bear it.  She was hot, tired, and unhappy because\nshe could do so little; and when her pitying eyes lost sight of that\nload of misery, she just sat down and cried.\n\nBut Tilda scolded as she carefully put the unsold berries back into the\npail, still unconscious of the people behind the elder-bushes by the\npond.\n\n\"That's the wickedest thing that ever was; and I just wish I was a man,\nso I could see about it.  I 'd put all the railroad folks in those cars,\nand keep 'em there hours and hours and hours, going by ponds all the\ntime; and I 'd have ice-cream, too, where they could n't get a bit, and\nlots of fans, and other folks all cool and comfortable, never caring how\nhot and tired and thirsty they were.  Yes, I would! and then we'd see\nhow _they_ like it.\"\n\nHere indignant Tilda had to stop for breath, and refreshed herself by\nsucking berry-juice off her fingers.\n\n\"We _must_ do something about it.  I can't be happy to think of those\npoor lammies going so far without any water.  It's awful to be dry,\"\nsobbed Patty, drinking her own tears as they fell.\n\n\"If I had a hose, I 'd come every day and hose all over the cars; that\nwould do some good.  Anyway, we 'll bring the other big pail, and water\nall we can,\" said Tilda, whose active brain was always ready with a\nplan.\n\n\"Then we sha'n't sell our berries,\" began Patty, despondently; for all\nthe world was saddened to her just then by the sight she had seen.\n\n\"We 'll come earlier, and both work real hard till our train is in.\nThen I 'll sell, and you go on watering with both pails.  It's hard\nwork, but we can take turns.  What ever shall we do with all these\nberries?  The under ones are smashed, so we 'll eat 'em; but these are\nnice, only who will buy 'em?\"  And Tilda looked soberly at the spoiled\napron and the four quarts of raspberries picked with so much care in the\nhot sun.\n\n\"I will,\" said a pleasant voice; and a young lady came out from the\nbushes just as the good fairy appears to the maidens in old tales.\n\nBoth little girls started and stared, and were covered with confusion\nwhen other heads popped up, and a stout gentleman came toward them,\nsmiling so good-naturedly that they were not afraid.\n\n\"We are having a picnic in the woods, and would like these nice berries\nfor our supper, if you want to sell them,\" said the lady, holding out a\npretty basket.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, we do.  You can have 'em all. They 're a little mashed; so\nwe won't ask but ten cents a quart, though we expected to get twelve,\"\nsaid Tilda, who was a real Yankee, and had an eye to business.\n\n\"What do you charge for watering the sheep?\" asked the stout gentleman,\nlooking kindly at Patty, who at once retired into the depths of her\nsun-bonnet, like a snail into its shell.\n\n\"Nothing, sir.  Was n't it horrid to see those poor things?  That's what\nmade her cry.  She's real tender-hearted, and she could n't bear it; so\nwe let the berries go, and did what we could,\" answered Tilda, with such\nan earnest little face that it looked pretty in spite of tan and\nfreckles and dust.\n\n\"Yes, it was very sad, and we must see about it.  Here's something to\npay for the berries, also for the water.\"  And the gentleman threw a\nbright half-dollar into Tilda's lap and another into Patty's, just as if\nhe was used to tossing money about in that delightful manner.\n\nThe little girls did n't know what to say to him; but they beamed at\nevery one, and surveyed the pretty silver pieces as if they were very\nprecious in their sight.\n\n\"What will you do with them?\" asked the lady, in the friendly sort of\nvoice that always gets a ready answer.\n\n\"Oh, we are saving up to buy books and rubber boots, so we can go to\nschool next winter. We live two miles from school, and wear out lots of\nboots, and get colds when it's wet.  We had _Pewmonia_ last spring, and\nma said we _must_ have rubber boots, and we might earn 'em in\nberry-time,\" said Tilda, eagerly.\n\n\"Yes, and _she's_ real smart, and _she's_ going to be promoted, and\n_must_ have new books, and they cost so much, and ma ain't rich, so we\nget 'em ourselves,\" added sister Patty, forgetting bashfulness in\nsisterly pride.\n\n\"That's brave.  How much will it take for the boots and the books?\"\nasked the lady, with a glance at the old gentleman, who was eating\nberries out of her basket.\n\n\"As much as five dollars, I guess.  We want to get a shawl for ma, so\nshe can go to meetin'. It's a secret, and we pick every day real hard,\n'cause berries don't last long,\" said Tilda, wisely.\n\n\"_She_ thought of coming down here.  We felt so bad about losing our\nplace at the hotel, and did n't know what to do, till Tilda made this\nplan.  I think it's a splendid one.\"  And Patty eyed her half-dollar\nwith immense satisfaction.\n\n\"Don't spoil the plan, Alice.  I 'm passing every week while you are up\nhere, and I 'll see to the success of the affair,\" said the old\ngentleman, with a nod; adding, in a louder tone, \"These are very fine\nberries, and I want you to take four quarts every other day to Miller's\nfarm over there.  You know the place?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir! yes, sir!\" cried two eager voices; for the children felt as\nif a rain of half-dollars was about to set in.\n\n\"I come up every Saturday and go down Monday; and I shall look out for\nyou here, and you can water the sheep as much as you like. They need it,\npoor beasts!\" added the old gentleman.\n\n\"We will, sir! we will!\" cried the children, with faces so full of\ninnocent gratitude and good will that the young lady stooped and kissed\nthem both.\n\n\"Now, my dear, we must be off, and not keep our friends waiting any\nlonger,\" said the old gentleman, turning toward the heads still bobbing\nabout behind the bushes.\n\n\"Good-by, good-by.  We won't forget the berries and the sheep,\" called\nthe children, waving the stained apron like a banner, and showing every\nwhite tooth in the beaming smiles they sent after these new friends.\n\n\"Nor I my lambs,\" said Alice to herself, as she followed her father to\nthe boat.\n\n\"What will ma say when we tell her and show her this heap of money?\"\nexclaimed Tilda, pouring the dimes into her lap, and rapturously\nchinking the big half-dollars before she tied them all up again.\n\n\"I hope we sha'n't be robbed going home. You 'd better hide it in your\nbreast, else some one might see it,\" said prudent Patty, oppressed by\nthe responsibility of so much wealth.\n\n\"There goes the boat!\" cried Tilda.  \"Don't it look lovely?  Those are\nthe nicest folks I ever saw.\"\n\n\"She's perfectly elegant.  I 'd like a white dress and a hat just like\nthat.  When she kissed me, the long feather was as soft as a bird's wing\non my cheeks, and her hair was all curling round like the picture we cut\nout of the paper.\"  And Patty gazed after the boat as if this little\ntouch of romance in her hard-working life was delightful to her.\n\n\"They must be awful rich, to want so many berries.  We shall have to fly\nround to get enough for them and the car folks too.  Let's go right off\nnow to that thick place we left this morning, else Elviry may get ahead\nof us,\" said practical Tilda, jumping up, ready to make hay while the\nsun shone.  But neither of them dreamed what a fine crop they were to\nget in that summer, all owing to their readiness in answering that\npitiful \"Baa! baa!\"\n\n\n\n                            BAA THE SECOND.\n\n\nA very warm and a very busy week followed, for the berries were\npunctually delivered at the farm, and successfully sold at the station;\nand, best of all, the sheep were as faithfully watered as two little\npails and two little girls could do it.  Every one else forgot them.\nMr. Benson was a busy old gentleman far away in the city; Miss Alice was\ndriving, boating, and picnicking all day long; and the men at the depot\nhad no orders to care for the poor beasts.  But Tilda and Patty never\nforgot; and, rain or shine, they were there when the long train came in,\nwaiting to do what they could, with dripping pails, handfuls of grass,\nor green branches, to refresh these suffering travellers for whom no\nthought was taken.\n\nThe rough stage-drivers laughed at them, the brakemen ordered them away,\nand the station-master said they were \"little fools;\" but nothing\ndaunted the small sisters of charity, and in a few days they were let\nalone.  Their arms were very tired lifting the pails, their backs ached\nwith lugging so much water, and mother would not let them wear any but\ntheir oldest clothes for such wet work; so they had their trials, but\nbore them bravely, and never expected to be thanked.\n\nWhen Saturday came round, and Miss Alice drove to meet her father, she\nremembered the little girls, and looked for them.  Up at the farm she\nenjoyed her berries, and ordered them to be promptly paid for, but was\neither asleep or away when they arrived, and so had not seen the\nchildren.  The sight of Patty, hastily scrambling a clean apron over her\nold frock, as she waited for the train with her tray of fruit, made the\nyoung lady leave the phaeton and go to meet the child, asking, with a\nsmile,--\n\n\"Where is the black-eyed sister?  Not ill, I hope.\n\n\"No, ma'am; she's watering the sheep.  She's so strong she does it\nbetter 'n I do, and I sell the baskets,\" answered Patty, rejoicing\nsecretly in the clean faded apron that hid her shabbiness.\n\n\"Ah, I forgot _my_ lambs; but you were faithful to yours, you good\nlittle things!  Have you done it every day?\"\n\n\"Yes, 'm.  Ma said, if we promised, we _must_ do it; and we like it.\nOnly there 's such a lot of 'em, and we get pretty tired.\"  And Patty\nrubbed her arms as if they ached.\n\n\"I 'll speak to papa about it this very day. It will be a good time; for\nMr. Jacobs, the president of the road, is coming up to spend Sunday, and\nthey must do something for the poor beasts,\" said Miss Alice, ashamed to\nbe outdone by two little girls.\n\n\"That will be so nice.  We read a piece in a paper our teacher lends us,\nand I brought it down to show Mr. Weed, the depot man.  He said it was a\nshame, but nobody could help it; so we thought we 'd tell him about the\nlaw we found.\"  And Patty eagerly drew a worn copy of \"Our Dumb Animals\"\nfrom her pocket to show the little paragraph to this all-powerful friend\nwho knew the railroad king.\n\nMiss Alice read:--\n\n\"An act of Congress provides that at the end of every twenty-eight\nhours' journey animals shall be given five hours' rest, and duly fed and\nwatered, unless shipped in cars having accommodations for the care of\nlive-stock on board.\"\n\n\"There!\" cried Patty, \"that's the law; and ma says these sheep come ever\nso far, and ought to be watered.  Do tell the president, and ask him to\nsee to it.  There was another piece about some poor pigs and cows being\nninety-two hours without water and food.  It was awful.\"\n\n\"I _will_ tell him.  Here 's our train.  Run to your berries.  I 'll\nfind papa, and show him this.\"\n\nAs Miss Alice spoke, the cars thundered into the little station, and a\nbrief bustle ensued, during which Patty was too busy to see what\nhappened.\n\nMr. Benson and another stout old gentleman got out; and the minute Miss\nAlice had been kissed, she said very earnestly,--\n\n\"Wait a little, please; I want to settle a very important piece of\nbusiness before we go home.\"\n\nThen, while the gentlemen listened indulgently, she told the story,\nshowed the bit in the paper, and pointing out Patty, added warmly,--\n\n\"That's one good child.  Come and see the other, and you will agree with\nme that something ought to be done to relieve their kind little hearts\nand arms, if not out of mercy to the animals, who can't be called dumb\nin this case, though we have been deaf too long.\"\n\n\"My wilful girl must have her way.  Come and get a whiff of fresh air,\nJacobs.\"  And Mr. Benson followed his daughter across the track, glad to\nget out of the bustle.\n\nYes, Tilda was there, and at work so energetically that they dared not\napproach, but stood looking and laughing for a moment.  Two pails of\nwater stood near her, and with a long-handled dipper she was serving all\nshe could reach; those which were packed on the upper tier she could\nonly refresh by a well-aimed splash, which was eagerly welcomed, and\nmuch enjoyed by all parties,--for Tilda got well showered herself, but\ndid not care a bit, for it was a melting July day.\n\n\"That is a very little thing to do, but it is the cup of cold water\nwhich _we_ have forgotten,\" said Miss Alice, softly, while the air was\nfull of cries of longing as the blue lake shone before the thirsty\nbeasts.\n\n\"Jacobs, we must attend to this.\"\n\n\"Benson, we will.  I 'll look into the matter, and report at the next\nmeeting.\"\n\nThat was all they said; but Alice clapped her hands, for she knew the\nthing would be done, and smiled like sunshine on the two old gentlemen,\nwho presently watched the long train rumble away, with shakes and nods\nof the gray heads, which expressed both pity and determination.\n\nThe other train soon followed, and Patty came running over with her\nempty tray and a handful of silver to join Tilda, who sat down upon her\nupturned pail, tired out.\n\n\"Papa will see to it, children; and, thanks to you, the sheep will soon\nbe more comfortable,\" said Miss Alice, joining them.\n\n\"Oh, goody!  I hope they'll be quick; it's so hot, there 's ever so many\ndead ones to-day, and I can't help 'em,\" answered Tilda, fanning herself\nwith her bonnet, and wiping the drops off her red face.\n\nMiss Alice took a pretty straw fan out of her pocket and handed it to\nher, with a look of respect for the faithful little soul who did her\nduty so well.\n\n\"Ask for me when you come to the farm to-night.  I shall have some hats\nand aprons for you, and I want to know you better,\" she said,\nremembering the broad-brimmed hats and ready-made aprons in the village\nstore.\n\n\"Thank you, ma'am.  We 'll come.  Now we won't have to do this wet work\nwe 'd like to be neat and nice,\" said Patty, gratefully.\n\n\"Do you always sell all your berries down here?\" asked Miss Alice,\nwatching Tilda tie up the dimes.\n\n\"Yes, indeed; and we could sell more if both of us went.  But ma said we\nwere making lots of money, and it was n't best to get rich too fast,\"\nanswered Tilda, wisely.\n\n\"That's a good thing for us to remember, Benson, especially just now,\nand not count the cost of this little improvement in our cattle cars too\nclosely,\" said Mr. Jacobs, as the old gentlemen came up in time to hear\nTilda's speech.\n\n\"Your mother is a remarkable woman; I must come and see her,\" added Mr.\nBenson.\n\n\"Yes, sir; she is.  She'd be pleased to see you any day.\"  And Tilda\nstood up respectfully as her elders addressed her.\n\n\"Getting too rich, are you?  Then I suppose it would n't do to ask you\nto invest this in your business for me?\" asked Mr. Jacobs, holding up\ntwo silver dollars, as if he felt bashful about offering them.\n\nTwo pairs of eyes sparkled; and Patty's hand went out involuntarily, as\nshe thought how many things she could get with all that money.\n\n\"Would they buy a lamb? and would you like to use it that way?\" asked\nTilda, in a business-like tone.\n\n\"I guess Miller would let you have one for that sum if Miss Alice makes\nthe bargain, and I _should_ very much like to start a flock if you would\nattend to it for me,\" answered Mr. Jacobs, with a laughing nod at the\nyoung lady, who seemed to understand that way of making bargains.\n\n\"We 'd like it ever so much!  We 've wanted a lamb all summer; and we've\ngot a nice rocky pasture, with lots of pennyroyal and berry bushes and a\nbrook, for it to live in.  We could get one ourselves now we are so\nrich; but we 'd rather buy more things for ma, and mend the roof 'fore\nthe snow comes: it's so old, rain runs down on our bed sometimes.\"\n\n\"That's bad; but you seem fond of water, and look as if it agreed with\nyou,\" said Mr. Jacobs, playfully poking Tilda's soaked apron with his\ncane.\n\nThey all laughed; and Mr. Benson said, looking at his watch,--\n\n\"Come, Alice, we must go.  I want my dinner, and so does Jacobs.\nGood-by, little water-witches.  I 'll see you again.\"\n\n\"Do you s'pose they 'll remember the lambs and hats, and all they\npromised?\" asked Patty, as the others turned away.\n\n\"I don't believe they will.  Rich folks are so busy having good times\nthey are apt to forget poor folks, seems to me,\" answered Tilda, shaking\nher head like a little Solomon.\n\n\"Bless my heart, what a sharp child that is! We must not disappoint her;\nso remind me, Alice, to make a memorandum of all this business,\"\nwhispered Mr. Benson, who heard every word.\n\n\"The President is a _very_ nice man, and I know _he_ 'll keep his word.\nSee! he dropped the money in my tray, and I never saw him do it,\" cried\nPatty, pouncing on the dollars like a robin on a worm.\n\n\"There's a compliment for you, and well worth the money.  Such\nconfidence is beautiful,\" said Mr. Jacobs, laughing.\n\n\"Well, I 've learned a little lesson, and I 'll lay it to heart so well\nI won't let either of you forget,\" added Alice, as they drove away;\nwhile Tilda and Patty trudged home, quite unconscious that they had set\nan example which their elders were not ashamed to follow.\n\nSo many delightful things happened after this that the children felt as\nif they had got into a fairy tale.  First of all, two nice rough straw\nhats and four useful aprons were given them that very night.  Next day\nMiss Alice went to see their mother, and found an excellent woman,\ntrying to bring up her girls, with no one to help her.\n\nThen somehow the roof got mended, and the fence, so that passing cattle\ncould not devastate the little beds where the children carefully\ncultivated wild flowers from the woods and hills. There seemed to be a\nsudden call for berries in the neighborhood,--for the story of the small\nSamaritans went about, and even while they laughed, people felt an\ninterest in the children, and were glad to help them; so the dimes in\nthe spoutless teapot rose like a silver tide, and visions of new gowns,\nand maybe sleds, danced through the busy little brains.\n\nBut, best and most wonderful of all, the old gentlemen did _not_ forget\nthe sheep.  It was astonishing how quickly and easily it was all done,\nwhen once those who had the power found both the will and the way.\nEvery one was interested now: the stage-drivers joked no more; the\nbrakemen lent a hand with the buckets while waiting for better means of\nrelief; and cross Mr. Weed patted Tilda and Patty on the head, and\npointed them out to strangers as the \"nice little girls who stirred up\nthe railroad folks.\"  Children from the hotel came to look at them, and\nElviry Morris was filled with regret that she had no share in this\ninteresting affair.\n\nThus the little pail of water they offered for pity's sake kept the\nmemory of this much-needed mercy green till the lake poured its full\ntide along the channel made for it, and there was no more suffering on\nthat road.\n\nThe first day the new pumps were tried every one went to see them work;\nand earliest of all were Tilda and Patty, in pink aprons and wreaths of\nevergreens round their new hats, in honor of the day.  It was sweet to\nsee their intense satisfaction as the water streamed into the troughs,\nand the thirsty sheep drank so gratefully.  The innocent little souls\ndid not know how many approving glances were cast upon them as they sat\non a log, with the tired arms folded, two trays of berries at their feet\nnow, and two faces beaming with the joy of a great hope beautifully\nfulfilled.\n\nPresently a party from the hotel appeared; and something was evidently\ngoing to happen, for the boys and girls kept dodging behind the cars to\nsee if they were coming.  Tilda and Patty wondered who or what, but kept\nmodestly apart upon their log, glad to see that the fine folks enjoyed\nthe sight about as much as they did.\n\nA rattle was heard along the road, a wagon stopped behind the station,\nand an excited boy came flying over the track to make the mysterious\nannouncement to the other children,--\n\n\"They 've got 'em, and they are regular beauties.\"\n\n\"More pumps or troughs, I guess.  Well, we can't have too many,\" said\nTilda, with an eye to the business under way.\n\n\"I wish those folks would n't stare so.  I s'pose it's the new aprons\nwith pockets,\" whispered bashful Patty, longing for the old cape-bonnet\nto retire into.\n\nBut both forgot pumps and pockets in a moment, as a striking procession\nappeared round the corner.  Mr. Benson, trying not to laugh, but shining\nwith heat and fun, led a very white lamb with a red bow on its neck; and\nbehind him came Miss Alice, leading another lamb with a blue bow.  She\nlooked very much in earnest, and more like a good fairy than ever, as\nshe carried out her little surprise.  People looked and laughed; but\nevery one seemed to understand the joke at once, and were very quiet\nwhen Mr. Benson held up his hand, and said, in a voice which was earnest\nas well as merry,--\n\n\"Here, my little girls, are two friends of those poor fellows yonder\ncome to thank you for your pity, and to prove, I hope, that rich people\nare not always too busy with their own good times to remember their\npoorer neighbors.  Take them, my dears, and God bless you!\"\n\n\"I did n't forget my lambs this time, but have been taming these for\nyou; and Mr. Jacobs begs you will accept them, with his love,\" added\nMiss Alice, as the two pretty creatures were led up to their new owners,\nwagging their tails and working their noses in the most amiable manner,\nthough evidently much amazed at the scene.\n\nTilda and Patty were so surprised that they were dumb with delight, and\ncould only blush and pat the woolly heads, feeling more like story-book\ngirls than ever.  The other children, charmed with this pleasant ending\nto the pretty story, set up a cheer; the men joined in it with a will;\nwhile the ladies waved their parasols, and all the sheep seemed to add\nto the chorus their grateful \"Baa! baa!\"\n\n\n\n\n           _University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge._\n\n\n\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\n\n\n               _Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._\n\n\n\n                      LOUISA M. ALCOTT'S WRITINGS\n\n\n\"_Miss Alcott is really a benefactor of households._\"--H. H.\n\n\"_Miss Alcott has a faculty of entering into the lives and feelings of\nchildren that is conspicuously wanting in most writers who address them\nand to this cause, to the consciousness among her readers that they are\nhearing about people like themselves, instead of abstract qualities\nlabelled with names, the popularity of her books is due._\"--Mrs. SARAH\nJ. HALE.\n\n\"_Dear Aunt Jo!  You are embalmed in the thoughts and loves of thousands\nof little men and little women._\"--EXCHANGE.\n\n\nLittle Women; or, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.  With illustrations.  Two\nvolumes.  16mo.  $3.00\n\nThe same, complete in one volume. With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nHospital Sketches, and Camp and Fireside Stories.  With illustrations.\n16mo.  $1.50\n\nAn Old-Fashioned Girl.  With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nLittle Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys.  With illustrations.\n16mo.  $1.50\n\nEight Cousins; or, The Aunt-Hill. With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nRose In Bloom.  A sequel to \"Eight Cousins.\"  16mo.  $1.50\n\nUnder the Lilacs.  With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nJack and Jill.  A Village Story. With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nWork: A Story of Experience. With character illustrations by Sol\nEytinge.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nMoods.  A Novel.  New edition, revised and enlarged.  16mo.  $1.50\n\nSilver Pitchers and Independence. A Centennial Love Story. 16mo.  $1.25\n\nProverb Stories.  New edition, revised and enlarged.  16mo.  $1.25\n\nSpinning-Wheel Stories.  With illustrations.  16mo.  $1.25\n\nMy Boys, &c.  First volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag.  16mo.  $1.00\n\nShawl-Straps.  Second volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag.  16mo.  $1.00\n\nCupid and Chow-Chow, &c. Third volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag.  16mo.\n$1.00\n\nMy Girls, &c.  Fourth volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag.  16mo.  $1.00\n\nJimmy's Cruise in the Pinafore, &c.  Fifth volume of Aunt Jo's\nScrap-Bag.  16mo.  $1.00\n\nAn Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving, &c.  Sixth volume of Aunt Jo's Scrap Bag.\n16mo.  $1.00\n\nLittle Women.  Illustrated. Embellished with nearly 200 characteristic\nillustrations from original designs drawn expressly for this edition of\nthis noted American Classic.  One small quarto, bound in cloth, with\nemblematic designs.  $3.50\n\nLittle Women Series.  Printed on large paper, with new illustrations,\nand in uniform bindings of new and tasteful design, printed in black,\nred, and gold.  Each volume is complete in itself.  The books comprising\nthis set are as follows, viz.:--\n\nLittle Women; Little Men; Eight Cousins; Under the Lilacs; An\nOld-Fashioned Girl; Hospital Sketches; Rose in Bloom; Jack and Jill.  8\nlarge 16mo volumes in a handsome box.  $12.00\n\n\n_These books are for sale at all bookstores, or will be mailed,\npost-paid, on receipt of price, to any address_.\n\n\n                       MRS. DODGE'S POPULAR BOOK\n\n\n[Illustration: A PORTRAIT OF DOROTHY AT SIXTEEN.]\n\n\n                          DONALD AND DOROTHY.\n\n                          BY MARY MAPES DODGE.\n\n            Beautifully Illustrated and Bound.  Price $2.00.\n\n\n              _An honest tribute from an admiring friend_.\n\n\"DEAR MRS. DODGE,--I have just finished your book called 'Donald and\nDorothy' for the third or fourth time, and would like very much to know\nwhether Dorothy is a real person, and if so, what is her name?  I am\nnearly as old as Dorothy was at the close of the book, so am very much\ninterested in her.  I would also like to know how old she is, and where\nshe lives.  If you would be kind enough to reply, you would greatly\noblige\n\n\"Your admiring friend,\"\n\n\n\n\n                      A NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF\n\n          \"Jolly Good Times\" and \"Jolly Good Times at School.\"\n\n\n                              THE BROWNS.\n\n                          BY MARY P. W. SMITH,\n\n                               AUTHOR OF\n\n        \"_Jolly Good Times; or, Child-Life on a Farm,_\" \"_Jolly\n                      Good Times at School,_\" &c.\n\n      With frontispiece illustration.  16mo.  Cloth.  Price $1.00.\n\n\nCONTENTS: I. Don does an Errand.  II. It Snows.  III. Border Warfare.\nIV. The Boo.  V. Don Figures as an Invalid. VI. The Flood.  VII. Nan's\nTrials.  VIII. Preparations. IX. The Party.  X. Don \"Speaks in Public on\nthe Stage.\"  XI. The Zoo.  XII. The Grandin Road.  XIII. A Dark Shadow.\nXIV. The Reaction.  XV. Don has his Own Way.  XVI. Celebrating a\nBirthday.  XVII. The Browns prepare to Travel.  XVIII. They Travel.\nXIX. They Encounter an \"Only.\"  XX. They go on.  XXI. They arrive.\n\n\n\n_Sold by all Booksellers.  Mailed, postpaid, by the publishers_,\n\nROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.","title":"Lulu's Library, Volume 1 (of 3)","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":50740}