A GOOD KICK.A GOOD KICK.
When Betty kept a school one day,Her sister was so good;The dollies every one behavedAs well-taught dollies should;But Tom was such a noisy boyShe had to get the cane;The very sight gave him a frightAnd made him good again!
When Betty kept a school one day,Her sister was so good;The dollies every one behavedAs well-taught dollies should;
But Tom was such a noisy boyShe had to get the cane;The very sight gave him a frightAnd made him good again!
C.B.
Little Miss Betty has had a tea-party,Everyone came with an appetite hearty;Animals, dollies, and toys were invited;Bobby was good and our Baby delighted.Of cake, bread-and-butter, and milk they had plenty—The cups were so tiny that Bobby drank twenty;And when it was over they ran and asked motherIf they might to-morrow have just such another!—
Little Miss Betty has had a tea-party,Everyone came with an appetite hearty;Animals, dollies, and toys were invited;Bobby was good and our Baby delighted.Of cake, bread-and-butter, and milk they had plenty—The cups were so tiny that Bobby drank twenty;And when it was over they ran and asked motherIf they might to-morrow have just such another!—
C.B.
hat's a wide!" said Tom, as the ball went rolling by about a yard from the stump. "Throw it up, Maggie. Now, Hugh, try again!"
It was a very young and inexperienced team that Tom Gardner was instructing. Tom was staying with his Aunt Gertrude, and had been complaining to her that he had no one whom he could play cricket with.
"Why don't you play with the children?" asked his aunt at last.
"Play with the kids?" gasped Tom. "Why, auntie, they are all girls except Hugh, and he not even in knickerbockers! And they don't know how!"
"Well, can't you teach them?" his aunt asked. Tom looked at her with some surprise. He was very fond of her and would do much to please her, but this seemed rather unreasonable.
"I—I have only a bat," he murmured? "there aren't any stumps!"
"O, I'll soon make you some stumps," said the lady briskly. "Come out into the garden and I'll soon get them."
She was as good as her word. In a few minutes she had found three sticks, pointed the ends with her pocket-knife, and driven them in with the gardener's mallet on the lower lawn. A flower-pot was placed on the centre stick. Then she produced a ball from her pocket.
"Now," she said, "you have everything you will want, and I leave you to teach your scratch team."
Tom laughed. The phrase "your scratch team" pleased him. His aunt's energy had infected him, and he began to marshal his forces.
"Now, look here, girls," he said; "Maggie, you're wicket-keeper, and Fan and Kitty must field, and Hugh shall bowl."
But Hugh proved such an indifferent bowler that even the girls began to clamour.
"Let me twy, Cousin Tom," cried Maggie; "I can frow better than Hugh!"
"You frow!" laughed Tom; "why, you can't speak properly yet!"
"Let me twy," said Maggie; "I don't bowl with my tongue!"
A SCRATCH TEAM.A SCRATCH TEAM.
So Maggie tried, and the game began to get exciting.
Maggie couldn't say her "r's," but she could certainly throw a ball very straight, and Tom had to play his best.
He began to hit the ball about the lawn, so that the little fielders grew hot and out of breath. At last one vigorous toss absolutely hit the wicket and sent the stumps and the flower-pot sprawling.
"I have knocked him out," cried Maggie, jumping about in her glee. "I am going to bat the ball now!"
But at that moment a voice was heard calling: "Come in to tea, children!"
"It can't be tea-time yet, surely!" said Tom, quite astonished at the quick flight of time.
So the scratch team had not played so badly after all, and during Tom's stay with his aunt they had many a game together and always thoroughly enjoyed it.
M.A. Hoyer.
t was Saturday—a summer Saturday; the sun shone down upon the meads and pastures round Clover Farm so radiantly that every face felt bound to smile brightly in return. Every face but one, and that belonged to Roddy Lester, the eldest of the farmer's four.
"What ails my boy this fine sunshiny morning?" called out mother from the cool, sweet dimness of the dairy, where she was at work.
Roddy did not answer. He was standing in the ivy-encircled doorway of the dairy, his hands deep in his pockets, his feet shuffling to and fro, and on his face a dark, angry cloud.
"Come, Roddy, tell mother the trouble. Is it anything to do with school? Is there a punishment preparation to be done this morning?"
"No; there isn't!" Roddy roused himself at such a suspicion. "Why, mother, I told you I was moved up yesterday; don't you remember? But I'll come inside and tell you all about it."
"No! Tell me from outside all about it."
"Well, then, mother, I don'twantto take the children to the meads. I want to amuse myself. And it's not fair. Saturday's a holiday, and it's my right to have it!" sullenly said Roddy.
"Your right! Perhaps so, dear! But sometimes it is our privilege to yield our rights!" quietly said mother, taking her eyes for a second off the yellowing cream to glance at the boy's gloomy face. "Who told you to take the children to the meads—father?" she asked.
"Yes, it was. He said I was to take them to the cowslip meads, and not to stir from there until he came back from market."
"And what is it you want to do instead?"
"I want to go with my net down to Butterfly Corner. There will be heaps of butterflies out this sunny day. And the other boys at school are all collecting: they have more than I have, all of them. I have only a tortoiseshell and a brimstone. O, it's a regular shame of father!"
"Hush, dear, hush! Nothing that your kind, good father says or does can be called a shame. But I believe I can guess why he gave those orders. He knew that this is an over-busy day for me, and also that I have one of my bad headaches." Certainly mother's face gleamed outwhite from the dairy shadows. "And as this is market-day at Hamley Town he and old Michael would be away until dinner-time. So, you see, sonny, he has leftyouin charge. You are in father's place this morning to guard the farm and us all, particularly the tinies. Don't you see what an honour it is to be trusted thus?"
Something stirred in Roddy's heart at his mother's words. The best part of him suddenly came uppermost. He walked quietly away, followed by Fuzzy sniffing at his heels. And, somehow, the boy felt an inch taller as he looked round the farm. After all, what were the butterflies compared with the tinies left in his charge? "Hip, hip, hooray!" Roddy straightened himself and cheered. He had won a victory—over himself.
"Hi, Nettie! Hi, Dumps! Come along! And where's Baby? We're going to the meads, and I'll make you a fine cowslip ball to shoot the rooks with!" he shouted, and Fuzzy barked madly round as the tinies flocked out.
When they got there, what with the sun and the wind, the making of the huge cowslip ball and the little ones' joy over it, Roddy's face cleared up and was as sunshiny as the weather itself. There's nothing like giving up your own will for making the heart sing.
By-and-by, when dinner-time came, so did father. As the dog-cart drove along the high-road, Roddy and Nettie puzzled over its appearance.
"It's got a new wheel at the back, Roddy!"
But Roddy's eyes widened into a fixed stare, and his face grew very red.
"Well, boy, here you are at your post. Now I'll tell you why I wanted you to stay at home this morning. It was for this surprise. Look, my lad! For weeks back I've been in treaty for this bicycle for you. To-day I was able to close with the bargain, and it's yours!"
For a few seconds Roddy could not see: his eyes were dimmed. The good, kind father had been planning out his boy's pleasure! "O, father!" he gasped; then, "O, mother!"
"Such a beauty!" delightedly said mother.
"It's a good one; I don't know the name," father was beginning.
"I do!" put in mother. "It is the 'Victory'—Roddy's Victory!"
M.B. Manwell.
ita grew quite tired of gathering wildflowers while her brother Frank sat by the water busy with his fishing-rod.
"Hemustbe tired of it by this time! He has been fishing for two hours!" she said, and, swinging her bunch of flowers, she walked to where her brother was sitting.
"Doleave off fishing for a while, Frank!" she pleaded, leaning against the tree beside him. "There is such a funny-looking animal running about over there in the grass. Come and look!"
Frank laughed.
"I know your funny-looking animals, Rita!" he said.
"Aren't you really tired of sitting quite still?" went on Rita wonderingly.
"I don't think about it," answered her brother. "I want to catch the fish, and to do that I must sit still."
Rita knew she must be contented to wait, so she walked a little way from him and threw herself down upon the bank.
As she lay looking into the water she suddenly felt herself grow very sleepy. A little while after, the water began to get so clear that she could see right through it. It grew more and more so until it became just like glass. Rita could see the very bottom of the pond and the fish swimming quickly backwards and forwards.
Then she heard some very funny little voices coming up from the water. This made her look closer, and she soon discovered a small group of fishes who seemed to be speaking very eagerly together. She saw they were gathered round Frank's line, on the end of which hung a tempting piece of bait.
"I tell you, my son," Rita heard the largest fish say to one of the smaller ones, "that is a trap. I have seen hundreds of poor fishes try to swallow that worm, and they have been pulled up out of the water and I have never seen them any more!"
"But, mother!" cried the smaller fish, "if I only had just one bite! Look what a beauty it is! I am sure there can be nothing to harm me!"
"Inside that worm," continued, the big fish, "there is a hook which will catch into your gills, and you will not be able to get away. Then the man at the top will pull you up and up, and you will be killed and eaten by him!"
Still the little fish looked longingly at the bait. Rita wanted to call out and tell him what his mother said was quite true; but somehow her voice refused to come.
The other fishes who were gathered round listening did not say anything, but Rita saw that some of the smaller ones looked at the worm just as longingly as the little one who had spoken.
For a few minutes there was silence in the water; then all at once, at a moment when it thought its mother was looking the other way, the little fish made a dart forward and tried to swallow the bait. The next moment it was wriggling about in a most pitiable manner and giving faint little cries for help. Its mother swam towards it in great distress.
"Come and help!" she called, in a trembling voice.
All the other fishes surrounded the line, and some caught hold of the little fish's tail and held on.
Just as Rita was getting very excited indeed she gave a great start and jumped up from the bank.
"What was that?" she exclaimed aloud.
"Why, I've got a splendid catch. It must be a monster! The line is so heavy I can hardly pull it in!"
It was Frank's voice. Rita suddenly remembered where she was and that she must have fallen asleep. She walked slowly to Frank, thinking about her strange dream.
She had only stood by him a minute when—splash!—out flew the line from the water and over went Frank on his back.
It was so funny that Rita could not help laughing heartily—especially as Frank was not at all hurt.
"It's all very well for you to laugh!" he said, when he had got up again; "but that was the best catch I've ever had, and the wretched fish must have got off the hook!"
Rita grew very thoughtful. Could her dream have been true? It really did seem strange. Anyway, although she felt sorry for Frank, she could not help feeling very pleased that the poor little fish had got free!
Edith Robarts.
erry folk tiny, merry folk tall,Happy as can be, here they are all,Spending the holidays 'midst the flowers,Laughing away the joyous hours!Merry folk sunny, merry folk sweet,Pleasant to look at, happy to meet,Nothing but smiling, never a sigh,They are so glad to be here, that's why!Merry girls dancing under the trees,With their curls floating out on the breeze,Merry boys playing all the day through,Here you will find them waiting for you.
erry folk tiny, merry folk tall,Happy as can be, here they are all,Spending the holidays 'midst the flowers,Laughing away the joyous hours!
Merry folk sunny, merry folk sweet,Pleasant to look at, happy to meet,Nothing but smiling, never a sigh,They are so glad to be here, that's why!
Merry girls dancing under the trees,With their curls floating out on the breeze,Merry boys playing all the day through,Here you will find them waiting for you.
Why are they merry? I'll tell you why:They know you will see them by-and-by;They know that you all are going to lookAt them in this merry picture-book.
Why are they merry? I'll tell you why:They know you will see them by-and-by;They know that you all are going to lookAt them in this merry picture-book.
TOBOGGANING.TOBOGGANING.
untie dear, will you buy Molly and me a toboggan? There's such a lovely slide on Heath Hill, and Toddy Graham and the Earles have toboggans, and we want one too."
Auntie looked up from her sewing and shook her head. "No, my dears, I can't. Run out and play with your hoops instead," she said, and then she went on with her work.
Charliewasangry. "I'm ever so much bigger than Toddy Graham," he said indignantly, "and his mother lets him have a toboggan. It's a shame! But never mind, Molly; we'll go all the same. I've got an idea. You go to the hill and I'll come presently."
Molly trotted away, and in a minute or two Charlie came running towards her, carrying his auntie's best tea-tray. "I had an awful bother to get it," he said. "Jane saw me with the old one and took it away; but I remembered this one was upstairs in auntie's room, so I fetched it without anyone seeing me."
"But what's the good of a tea-tray?" asked Molly.
"Toboggan, you silly; come along," Charlie answered shortly; and in another minute the two children were spinning away down the hill.
The first journey was most successful, but on the second. Charlie forgot that a tea-tray requires careful management and good steering, and half-way down the hill he came into collision with Toddy Graham.
Over went the tray, smash came Toddy's toboggan right on the top of it, and all three' children were shot out into the snow. Toddy and Charlie picked themselves up, but Molly lay without moving.
"She's dead, Toddy Graham. O, what shall I do?" wailed poor frightened Charlie.
"You'd better fetch your aunt," suggested practical Toddy; and Charlie rushed off as fast as his fat legs could carry him.
When auntie arrived upon the scene, she found her small niece sitting up, howling vigorously, and rubbing a very big bump on her forehead. There was no great harm done—at least, as far as the children were concerned, butthe best tea-tray was battered and scratched beyond recognition.
"Really, auntie did behave like a brick," said Charlie, and when they opened their money-boxes and, putting all their pennies and sixpences together, bought her a new tea-tray, she declared it was ever so much better than the one they had spoilt.
And what do you think happened when Christmas Day came? Why, auntie gave them the jolliest toboggan you ever saw, and the children found out that she had meant to do so all along, and that was why she had refused to give them one when they first asked for it. Wasn't she a nice aunt?
L.L. Weedon.