PETER AND POLLY IN WINTERPETER AND POLLYPeter Howe is a little boy. Polly is his sister. She is older than Peter.They live in a white house. The house is on a hill. It is not in the city. It is in the country.There are no houses close about it. But there are trees and fields around it.In summer these fields are green. In winter the snow covers them.The fields and the hills are as white as the house. Then there is fun playing in the snow.Peter likes to watch the snowflakes. He calls them "white butterflies." But he knows what they are.His friend, the Story Lady, told him. They are just frozen clouds.Peter said to her, "I think they are prettier than raindrops. They can sail about in the air, too. Raindrops cannot. I like winter better than summer.""It will be winter soon, Peter," said the Story Lady. "But many things must happen first."The birds must fly away. The leaves must turn red and yellow. Then they will fall and you can rake them into heaps. We will go to the woods for nuts."All these things will happen before winter comes.""Yes," said Peter. "And my grandmother must knit me some thick stockings.And my father must buy me a winter coat. Grandmother must knit some stockings for Wag-wag, too.""But Wag-wag is a dog, Peter. Dogs do not need stockings.""My dog does," said Peter. "He needs a coat, too. His hair is short. It will not keep him warm. I shall ask father to buy him a coat.""Do, Peter," said the Story Lady. "It is good to be kind to dogs. And when Wag-wag wears his coat and stockings, bring him to see me. I will take his picture."THE BIRDS' GAME OF TAGIt is fall. Summer is really over. But it is still warm. Jack Frost has not yet begun his work.Peter and Polly have been watching the birds. For days they have seen great flocks of them. In the summer there were not so many together.One day they saw several robins. These were flying from tree to tree.Peter said, "I know they are having a party. They are playing tag.""Perhaps they are," said his father. "Perhaps each bird is telling something to the bird he tags.""What is he telling?" asked Peter."I think he is saying, 'Brother bird, don't you know that winter is coming? Soon the snow will be here. What shall we do then?"'We cannot get food. We shall freeze.Come, let us fly away to the South. It is warm there.'""What does brother bird say?" asked Peter."I think brother bird says, 'It is a long way to the South. It will take many days and nights to fly there."'Are our children's wings yet strongenough? I do not like to go. But I know that we must.'""Doesn't he like to go, truly?" asked Peter."We do not know, Peter. The robins make their nests here. They lay their blue eggs here. They hatch their little birds here. They never do this in the South."Besides, they sing their beautiful songs here. They never sing them in the South. We like to think that they love the North better. But, of course, we do not know.""How can they find their way back?" asked Polly."We do not know that, either, Polly. Many birds fly in the nighttime. Then they rest a part of the day.""I couldn't find my way in the dark," said Polly."But the birds can," said father. "We do not know how. The winter home of some of our birds is thousands of miles from here.""I like to watch the swallows," said Polly. "They sit in a line on a telephone wire. Then one flies to another wire. In a minute they all fly, too."I think that they are talking about going away soon. I hope they will not get lost.""Yes," said father. "They will soon be gone. But perhaps some of these very birds will come back here next summer.""I wish we could know them," said Polly."We shall have a few birds left this winter," said father. "You know some of them. You know the chick-a-dees and the woodpeckers. And this winter I shall show you others.""May we hunt for nests and eggs, father?" asked Peter."We may hunt, Peter, but we won't find any eggs in winter. We shall find other things. Perhaps we shall find the white-footed mouse. He sometimes makes his home in an old bird's nest.""Can a mouse climb trees, father? If he lives in a bird's nest, does he lay bird's eggs?""He can climb trees, Peter. But he cannot lay eggs. We will see if we can find Mr. White-foot some day."But first we will watch the birds fly away and the snow come."THE STONE-WALL POST OFFICEAround Peter's house is a beautiful field. This is Mr. Howe's hayfield. You can find it on the map in the front of this book.The children like this field. All the year round, it is a pleasant place.In the spring they find blue violets here. In the summer they watch the birds that make nests in the tall grass. In the winter they slide here on the crust.At the farther side of the field, there are some trees. These are butternut trees. In front of the trees is a stone wall.Peter and Polly like to play by this wall. Sometimes they play that it is a post office.The holes in the wall are the boxes. There is a box for every one in the village. Peter has more than one box; so has Polly.The children take turns being the postmaster. If Peter is the postmaster, Polly calls for the mail.The real post office is in their father's store. So they have often seen Mr. Howe put the mail into the boxes.They use little sticks for the post cards. Leaves are the letters. Stones are the packages. Sometimes the boxes are full of mail—especially Peter's and Polly's.Often they play that it is Christmas time. Then the boxes are full ofpackages. It is fun to guess what is in each package.One day Peter said, "There is a knife in this package. I like it. There is a hammer in this package. I will build a house with it."There is a game in this package. Will you play it with me, Polly? And, O Polly! There is a pony in this package! That is what I wish for most of all.""But, Peter, a pony is too big to be in your post-office box. It would not come by mail.""Then Santa Claus will bring it," said Peter. "If I get it, I do not care how it comes."One day the children saw that the butternuts were falling.Polly said, "Let's pick up all we can. We will put them in our post-office boxes. When they are full, we will bring your cart. Then we can take the nuts home. We will crack them next winter."So they filled the boxes with nuts. The nuts were still green. The children stained their hands with them.While they were playing with the nuts, they saw two squirrels. These sat in thetrees above them. They watched Peter and Polly with their bright eyes, and scolded them a great deal."They want our nuts," said Polly. "But we have put them into our post-office boxes. We will keep them."The next day the children went for their nuts. They took Peter's cart with them. What do you think they found?Why, they found their boxes empty! The nuts were all gone!"Some one bad has been here," said Peter.Polly laughed. "You always say that, Peter. I think it was those squirrels. And I don't care, because they need the nuts to eat this winter.""I don't care, either," said Peter. "I think we forgot to lock our boxes.""Perhaps we did," said Polly. "But I guess the squirrels thought the boxes were theirs. When they called for their mail, they found the boxes full. How pleased they must have been! Let's pick up more nuts for them."So the children again filled the post-office boxes with nuts. Then they went home and left them for the squirrels.PLAYING IN THE LEAVESOne day Peter saw something that pleased him. It was a branch of red leaves on a maple tree.He said to mother, "It will be winter soon.""Why do you think so, Peter?""I have seen red leaves," said Peter."But, Peter, a few red leaves do not count. There are red leaves in the summer. You must watch until you see many red, yellow, and brown leaves.""What makes the leaves red and yellow, mother? Is it magic?" asked Peter. "Can you do it?""Perhaps it is a kind of magic, Peter. It is like the clouds turning into snow. I cannot do that."Then Peter watched for all the trees to turn. At last they were bright with colors.The maples were red and yellow; the oaks a deep red. The beeches were a bright yellow.Even the elm trees in front of the house were yellow. Now Polly liked more than ever to swing. The swing took her way up among the yellow leaves.Then, one day, the leaves began to fall. Down they came, a few at a time. The next day more fell, and the next and the next.Polly said, "They are prettier than the snowflakes. The snow is white. These have lovely colors. See them flying through the air."At last most of the trees were bare. The leaves lay on the ground.Then Peter said, "Oh, the poor trees!They haven't any clothes on. I am so sorry."Polly said, "The leaves are not clothes. They are children. Now they have gone to bed. The snow is their blanket. When it comes, it will keep them warm. If we leave them alone, they will sleep all winter. I learned it in a poem.""They cannot go to sleep yet," said Peter. "I shall not let them. I shall wake them up.""How will you do that?" asked Polly."I shall run in them. That will keep them awake. I shall do it now. Come on! See if you can make as much noise as I can."After a while the children raked the leaves into large heaps. Then they jumped in the heaps. This scattered the leaves. But the children did not care. They raked them up again.Once Peter jumped where the leaves were not very deep. He came to the ground with a bang. He was surprised. But he was not much hurt.He said to mother, "My teeth shut with a noise when I went down."Mother said, "It is lucky that your tongue was not in the way. You would have bitten it badly.""Come in now, both of you. You must wash your hands and faces. Father will be home soon. You may play in the leaves to-morrow."HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN[1]I'll tell you how the leaves came down.The great Tree to his children said,"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,Yes, very sleepy, little Red;It is quite time you went to bed.""Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,"Let us a little longer stay;Dear Father Tree, behold our grief;'Tis such a very pleasant dayWe do not want to go away."So, just for one more merry dayTo the great Tree the leaflets clung,Frolicked and danced and had their way,Upon the autumn breezes swung,Whispering all their sports among,—"Perhaps the great Tree will forget,And let us stay until the spring,If we all beg and coax and fret."But the great Tree did no such thing;He smiled to hear their whispering."Come, children, all to bed," he cried;And ere the leaves could urge their prayerHe shook his head, and far and wide,Fluttering and rustling everywhere,Down sped the leaflets through the air.I saw them; on the ground they lay,Golden and red, a huddled swarm,Waiting till one from far away,White bedclothes heaped upon her arm,Should come to wrap them safe and warm.The great bare Tree looked down and smiled,"Good night, dear little leaves," he said.And from below, each sleepy childReplied, "Good night," and murmured,"It is so nice to go to bed!"—Susan Coolidge.[1]Copyright, 1889, by Roberts Brothers.THE BONFIREThe next day father said, "Peter and Polly, will you work for me? I wish to buy your leaves. I will give you a cent for three loads.""Oh, goody, goody!" said Polly."Oh, goody, goody!" said Peter."You must put the leaves in a pile in the garden. I will show you where.""What will you do with them, father?" asked Polly."You will see to-night, if you are good workmen."In the night the wind had blown the leaves about. So the children raked them up once more.Then they filled the big basket full.They packed in the leaves as hard as they could."That is to give good measure," said Polly. "Father always gives good measure at his store. So you and I must, too."Every time they took a basketful to the garden, Polly made a mark on a piece of paper.At last the yard was raked clean. They had taken to the garden twenty-nine loads. They had worked nearly all day.At supper father said, "You are good workmen, chicks. Our yard looks very clean. It is ready for winter."You piled the leaves carefully in the garden, too. Now, how much do I owe you?""We took twenty-nine loads, father," said Polly. "I wish there had been one more to make thirty.""Why do you wish that, Polly?""Because three goes in thirty better than in twenty-nine.""Well," said father, "we will call it thirty loads, Polly. I saw you packing the leaves into the basket very hard."You are honest workmen to give mesuch good measure. Now, Polly, three goes in thirty how many times?""Ten times, father. So you owe us ten cents. We shall each have five cents.""Very good, Polly. Here is your money. I have a surprise for you. Put on your coats and come to the garden. Mother will come, too."In the garden they found father beside the pile of leaves. He had thrown many things upon it.He said, "I came home early and cleaned up the garden. Now, what shall we do with all this stuff?""Burn it, burn it!" shouted both children at once. "A bonfire, a bonfire!""Very well," said father. "You may burn it. Here is a match for you, Polly. And here is one for you, Peter. Light your fire."Polly and Peter lighted the great heap. Soon the red flames were leaping up. They made the garden bright. Farther away from the fire it was very dark."Oh, see, see, mother!" cried Polly. "The flames are as pretty as the red and yellow leaves. Have they taken the color from the leaves? How hot they are!"The children danced around the fire until it died down. Then mother took them into the house. It was bedtime.The children danced around the fire until it died down. Then mother took them into the house. It was bedtime.THE HEN THAT HELPED PETERPeter is a nice little boy. But he can be very naughty. Mother and father know this. Grandmother Howe and Polly know it, too.You see, Peter always wishes his own way. And you know this is not good for little boys and little girls.Peter cannot have cake between his meals. He may always have milk to drink. Sometimes he may have bread and jelly, or bread and sugar.He likes this very much. But he does notlike the crusts of the bread. So he used to eat only the soft part. The crusts he threw away.But at the table he could not throw them away.Then he put them under the edge of his plate. You know how.When mother took the plate, there would be a crust on the table. It did not look very well.One day father said, "Peter, you are a big boy now. You are nearly five years old. You are old enough to eat your crusts."I will give you a week in which to learn how. After that, I shall not expect to see any more crusts on the table."Peter knew that, when his father spoke so, he meant what he said. But the little boy thought he would not eat his crusts until he had to do so.He said to himself, "In a week I will begin to eat them all up. But now I will still put them under my plate."So, every day when his plate was taken away, there were the crusts. Peter did not see his father look at them. And his father said nothing more about them.By and by Peter began to think that his father had forgotten.So, when the week was over, he said to himself, "I am sure that my father has forgotten. I am going to keep on leaving my crusts."But his father had not forgotten. He was just waiting to see if Peter would obey.That noon he saw that Peter had left a crust.He said, "My son, you have not learned to eat your crusts. And you have not learned to obey. I must teach you."Then Peter was more naughty still. He said, "I do not like old crust. I will throw old crust away. Then I cannot eat it."He picked up the crust and jumped down from his chair.His father called, "Peter!"But Peter did not stop. He ran to the door and threw the crust out upon the grass.His father went after him. "You may pick up your crust, Peter," said he.This time Peter started to obey. He knew that he had been very naughty. But, before he could get to the crust, an old henran up. She snatched it in her bill and off she went.Peter looked at his father. He was not sure what his father would do. He almost wished the hen had not taken the crust.Father only laughed. He said, "That old hen is a friend of yours, Peter. If it had not been for her, you would have eaten that crust.""I know it," said Peter. "And, father, I am sorry. I do not like to be naughty. I will be good. I will eat my crusts now to please you."And after this he did.THE FIRST ICE"Water now has turned to stone,Stone that I can walk upon."One morning mother said, "Polly, will you go to the store for me? I need a can of corn. We must have it for dinner.""May Peter go, too, mother?""Oh, yes, Peter may go, if he wishes. Run and find him."Now Polly and Peter liked to go to the store. It belonged to their father. Sometimes they helped him unpack goods. Sometimes they sat still and watched the customers.Sometimes he let them play keeping store. Once Polly had really sold some candy to another little girl.But to-day they could not stay to play. They must get the can of corn for mother, and come home.They went down the hill. At the railroad tracks they stopped. They looked for a train. They saw none, so they ran across the tracks.Then they came to the bridge. You can find it on the map in the front of this book.They stopped to look over the rail at the water, far below."O Polly!" said Peter. "What is on the water?""Why, it is ice, Peter. The top of the water is frozen. See, the ice goes nearly across the river.""Ice, ice!" shouted Peter. "Now winter is almost here. The leaves have gone. The ice has come. Let's run and tell father."The children ran to the store."Father, father," called Peter, "we have seen ice!""So have I," said father. "Where did you see it?""We saw it from the bridge. The river is frozen at the sides. It is not frozen in the middle.""Yes," said father. "It freezes first at the edges, because the water flows more slowly there. In the middle it flows faster."Every cold night that ice will grow. It will soon cover the middle of the river, too. And at the same time it will grow thicker.""By and by it will be so thick that we can walk upon it. Then it is time to learn to skate. Perhaps you can learn this winter.""When the ice is thick enough, men cut it into blocks. What will they do with them?""Make houses of them," said Peter."O Peter, we are not Eskimos," said Polly. "I know, father. They will put the ice into big ice houses. They will keep it to use in the hot summer. I saw them doing it last winter.""Right, Polly. That is where our ice comes from in the summer.""Does all the water in the river freeze, father? Where do the fishes go? Are they in the ice?""The ice is lighter than the water, Peter. So it stays on top of the water. The bottom of our river does not freeze. The fishes are there. They do not mind the cold as we do."Did you come to the store just to tell me about the ice, chicks?""No, father," said Polly. "We came fora can of corn. We saw the ice when we were on the bridge.""Then here is the corn. Take it to mother and tell her about the ice."Off went the children. When they came to the bridge, Peter dropped some small stones on the ice. But it did not break."It must be thick now, Polly," said he. "I wish we could skate.""We weigh more than those stones do, Peter. I think the cold will have to make the ice grow more before father will let us. And, anyway, we have no skates.""Let's tell mother about that, too, Polly. Perhaps she knows where there are some."So Peter and Polly hurried up the hill to find their mother.THE THREE GUESSES"Polly and Peter," said Mr. Howe, "I have something for you. It is something to use in the winter, and not in the summer. You may have three guesses.""It can't be a sled," said Polly, "for we have sleds.""It can't be a coat," said Peter, "for we have coats.""And we have mittens and leggings and overshoes, too," said Polly."It might be my pony," said Peter."No," said Polly. "It couldn't be, Peter. We can use a pony in the summer. Let's not guess that.""Is it good to eat, father?" asked Peter. "I am hungry now.""No, Peter. And there are four of them; two for each of you. They are hard and shiny.""Guns, guns!" shouted Peter."One guess is gone, Peter. What would you do with two guns?""Are they for us to wear, father?" asked Polly."Yes, Polly, but not all the time. You cannot wear them in the house.""Then I know what they are, father. If there are two for each of us, that is one for each foot. Can't you guess now, Peter?""Rubber boots," shouted Peter."I think it is skates, father. And I am glad. I have wished for some ever since we saw the ice.""You have made a good guess, Polly. Bring me the box that is in the hall."Out of the box Mr. Howe took two pairs of shining new skates."Oh, goody, goody!" cried both children, when they saw what was in the box."We will go skating now," said father. "Then we can try them."At the edge of the river he stopped. He put on the children's skates. Then he put on his own."I will show you how to do it," he said. "Then I will help you just a little."He showed them how to strike out, firstwith one foot and then with the other. His tracks looked like this:Then Polly tried, but her tracks looked like this:"That is not the way, Polly," said her father. "You are skating with your right foot. But you are only pushing with your left. You must skate with both. Watch me again."Then Peter tried. His tracks looked like this:The cross marks the place where Peter fell down. But he did not care. He got up and tried again.Polly was doing better. So her father took hold of her and helped her a little.He said, "I wish you to learn alone. Then you will be a good skater. If I help you all the time, you will never be able to skate alone."Polly said, "That is what my teacher tells us. She says, 'I will show you how to do it. And I will help you a little. Then you must try for yourself.'""That is good," said father. "You must learn to do things alone. Your teacher and your father will not always be near."Soon the skates were taken off. "We must not stay too long the first time," said father. "You may come again to-morrow. You may skate every day until the snow comes.""Oh, may we, father, may we?" cried Peter and Polly, jumping up and down. "And when the snow comes, we can sweep it off the ice.""Maybe I shall not wish for any snow now," said Peter. "Maybe I like skating better.""You will get the snow just the same, my son," said father. "So you may as well wish for it. It is sure to come.""Now, good-by. We have all had a good time. Take my skates home with you and dry them when you dry yours. Then they will not rust. We will bring mother the next time we come."THE FIRST SNOWSTORMOne morning mother called to Peter, "Wake up, Peter! Look out of your window. Winter has come."Peter had been dreaming about a big snow man who chased him. He jumped out of bed and said, "You didn't get me that time, old snow man. I woke up too soon."He ran to the window. The ground was white. The trees were white. The air was full of the white butterflies that Peter likes so well."Oh! Oh!" he shouted. "I must go out to play! I must go out to play!""Not until you are dressed, Peter," said mother. "Then you must have breakfast. After that you may go out."At breakfast father said, "It has snowed a foot since dark yesterday. How many inches is that, Polly?""It is twelve inches, father. Do you think this snow has come to stay? Or will it melt away?""I think that it will stay, Polly. It is time for sleighing."Peter and Polly put on their coats and caps, their leggings, overshoes, and mittens. Then they were ready to go out.At first Peter ran about in the yard. He kicked up the snow as he ran. It flew all over him."Polly, Polly!" he called. "I am a snow man now. I shall chase you as the one in my dream chased me."He ran after her. Just as he caught her, she slipped. Down they both went. They were covered from head to foot with snow."Now we are both snow men," said Polly. "Let's go and shake the little trees."These were two fir trees. They were at the side of the house. Polly took hold of the end of a low branch. Peter stood under the tree, while Polly shook it. Down came a shower of snow.Then Polly stood under the other, while Peter shook that. Down came another shower of snow. Some of this went into Polly's neck. But Polly did not care."Now we will show grandmother how white we are," she said.Grandmother heard them coming. She went out on the piazza.She said, "I see two snow men. I cannot ask them in. Snow men would melt near the fire. Then they would be nothing but water.""Oh, yes, grandmother, they would be Peter and Polly," said Peter."Why, Peter! Why, Polly! Is this really you? I have no spectacles on, this morning. Where are your sleds?""In the barn, in the barn!" shouted Peter. "We could not wait for them.""See the posts of your fence, grandmother," said Polly. "They all have on tall white caps.""So they have, Polly. And how clean the snow caps are. How clean the snow makes everything. We are all glad to have it, aren't we?""I am, I am!" shouted Peter. "Winter has come, winter has come! Good-by, grandmother. I must go and play.""Good-by," called grandmother. "Come down to dinner, if mother will let you. We will have sugar on snow.""She will let us," called Peter. "I know she will. And I will get the pan of snow for the sugar."THE STAR SNOWFLAKEAll that day Peter and Polly played in the snow. All day Peter's white butterflies fell. Down they came out of the air, softly and silently.Peter liked to stand and look up into the sky. He liked to feel the soft flakes light upon his face. He liked to see them on his coat sleeve.Polly said, "Aren't the flakes pretty, Peter? They are little stars. The perfect ones have six points. The Story Lady told me a story about a star snowflake. I will tell it to you."Once a little water fairy lived in our brook, back of grandmother's house. One day she was very, very naughty. She did not wish to go up into the air. She did notwish to be part of a cloud. She wished to stay in the brook."Her father said, 'You must go. And I shall have you punished for being so naughty. I shall have Jack Frost change you into a snowflake.'"Jack Frost came one day to change the cloud into snowflakes. He saw how sorry the water fairy was because she had been so naughty."So he said, 'You know that I have to make all snowflakes like stars. Some of them are very pretty. I will change you into the prettiest star snowflake that I know.'"'And when you melt,' said Jack Frost, 'you will be a water fairy again. You will always be good then, won't you?'"So he changed her into a beautiful star snowflake. I have seen her picture. The Story Lady showed it to me.""Let's find her," said Peter. "Then let's show her to the Story Lady. That will be better than the picture."So the children looked and looked. They found many stars. But Polly was not sure that any one of them was the right one.At last Peter found the most beautiful starof all. "This is the water fairy, this is the water fairy!" he cried.And Polly said, "It does look like the picture. So let's go and show it to the Story Lady."Down they went to her house and into the kitchen. There was the Story Lady, washing dishes."O Story Lady," said Peter. "I have the water fairy on my arm! She is changed into a star. See her!"But when the Story Lady looked, there was no star snowflake."She has gone," said Peter. "That is too bad." And he looked ready to cry."Why, yes, Peter," said the Story Lady. "She has gone. But don't you think that she is happy to be just a water fairy again? She likes that better, you know. You must be glad that you found her and helped her melt.""I am glad," said Peter. "But it was only a 'Once upon a time' story, wasn't it?""Of course it was, Peter. But don't you know that all snowflakes are water fairies? Now run along and play with those that are left."HOW PETER HELPED GRANDMOTHERGrandmother was getting ready for Thanksgiving. Peter and Polly and father and mother were going to her house on that day.So grandmother was making mince pies. She was making other things, too. One was fruit cake.Peter and Polly were down at grandmother's, helping. At least, Polly was helping and Peter was hindering.He seemed bound to stand just where grandmother wished to walk. He spilled a cup of milk on the table. After he had wiped it up, he upset some flour.But he did not mean to hinder.Polly watched her grandmother make the pies. She watched her roll the pie crust thin and trim it to the size of the plate.She said, "If I had some dough, I am sure I could do that."Her grandmother gave her some and a little plate. Polly rubbed the plate with melted butter. Then she rolled out the dough and put it on the plate."That is very good, Polly. Now we will fill our pies. Here is the mincemeat."Polly tried to make her little pie look like grandmother's large one."Next we must put on the covers," said grandmother. "Roll yours out like mine."She had Polly stick a knife through her cover in four places. Ask your mother why she did this.Then she helped Polly put on her cover, for that was quite hard to do. Last of all she showed her how to pinch together the edges."Now," said grandmother, "we will bake our pies. What shall you do with yours?""I should like to take it home to show mother and father. May I?""Why, to be sure. They ought to have a bite of your first pie. Please, Peter, carry this pail of sugar into the pantry for me. I do not need it any more."The pies were baked brown. As soon as hers was cool enough, Polly carried it up the hill to mother."See, mother," she said, "I can cook now. Grandmother let me make a pie. It is for you and father.""How good it looks, Polly! We will try it for dinner. You have done this well. I see that I must begin to teach you to cook."Bread comes first. The next time I sponge bread, you may try. Your first good loaf you may take to grandmother.""Oh, may I, mother? I want to learn to cook. Then I can cook for you and father. I watched grandmother all the morning. I helped her, too.""So did I help grandmother," said Peter."O Peter, what did you do to help?" asked Polly. "You spilled the milk and then you spilled the flour. That isn't helping much.""I did help," said Peter. "I helped all the morning. I worked very hard.""I am sure that you meant to, Peter," said mother. "But tell me what you did.""Why," said Peter, "why, I carried away the pail of sugar."Polly laughed, but mother said, "That was kind, Peter. And you know that you always help by being a good boy. So I really think that you are right."THE SNOW MAN"Let's make a snow man this morning. Will you, Peter? The snow is just right for big balls.""Then we will," said Peter. "But let's get Tim to help us."Tim is Peter's playmate. He lives on a farm. His house is farther up the hill. Look for it on the map in the front of this book.Soon Tim was down at Peter's. His big dog Collie was with him. Wag-wag and Collie are friends. They often play together.The three children began to roll snowballs. Polly's grew very large. The boys had to help her with it. They pushed it over and over. At last it was quite near the edge of the bank."One more push," said Polly. "Then it will be just right. People can see the man from the road."But that push was too much. Over the edge of the bank the big ball rolled."Oh, stop, stop!" cried Peter. "Do not run away. We will make you into a good snow man."But the ball did not stop. It rolled against Tim. It knocked him flat. Peter and Polly fell down the bank after it. At last it smashed itself against the fence."Never mind," said Polly. "We can make another. Do not let the next one knock you down, Tim.""Old snowball ran over me," said Tim. "But I do not care. He smashed himself."Another big ball was made. It was rolled into place. Then smaller ones were lifted on it. These were for the body.At last the head was ready. Polly stood in a chair. She stuck the head on the body. She made eyes, a nose, and a mouth with small sticks.She put an old hat on the head. She put a branch under the arm.Then she said, "We will name you White Giant. You may take care of our house at night. In the daytime you may play with us. Will you, old Giant?"Polly did not think that the snow man could talk. But just then she heard some one say, "Of course I will play with you, Polly.""Oh, oh! Has he come alive?" cried Peter. "Can he chase me? I do not wish him to do that." And he ran behind Polly."I cannot chase you, Peter," the snow man seemed to say. "I cannot move at all in the daytime. But at night you should see me.""I saw you the other night in a dream," said Peter. "I did not like you. You chased me.""I will never do that again, Peter. So you must not be afraid of me."Just then Tim cried out, "Look, look!" And there behind a tree was Peter's father.Polly laughed. "I know now that the snow man did not talk," she said. "At first I thought he did. It was you, wasn't it, father?""Why do you think so, Polly? You didn't see me. Did it sound like me?""No, it did not, father," said Peter. "And I think it was the snow man. I am going to watch him to-night and see.""Why don't you?" asked father. "I should like to know about it. You tell me when you find out. Where are your mittens, Tim? Aren't your hands cold?""I've lost them. And Peter has lost one of his red ones. We can't find them at all.""Perhaps they are under the snow. The sun will help you find them by and by. Peter, run in and tell mother. She will get some mittens for you and Tim to wear."When you come back, bring the old broom. That is better than the branch for your snow man. If you watch to-night, you may see what he does with it."PETER'S DREAMAt bedtime Peter said, "I want to sit up. I am going to watch the snow man.""Why?" asked mother."I heard him speak," said Peter. "He said he would not chase me. He said I ought to see him at night. He can move then.""Very well," said mother. "But you might get into your bed. You can watch him from your window.""I did not think of that, mother. I will go now."Soon Peter was in bed. By sitting up, he could see the snow man. His window was wide open. But Peter had on thick night clothes. He did not feel the cold.The moon was bright. Peter thought of his friend, the Fairy Bird. He wished the Bird would come again and take him to the moon.All at once he rubbed his eyes. Where was the snow man? He looked again. The snow man was gone!"Oh, oh!" said Peter to himself. "I've lost him. That's too bad. Now I shall not see anything."But just then the door opened softly. Peter saw something white coming into his room. It was the snow man!Peter was so surprised that he nearly jumped out of bed. He was frightened, too. He called, "Oh, dear!""Sh, sh, sh!" said the snow man. "You'll wake every one in the house. I came up here to please you. I don't care to see any one else."It was hard work climbing the stairs. You children didn't make me very good legs; nor very good arms, either, I must say. I have no feet and no hands."My hat came off when I broke myself away from the snow. But, without hands, I couldn't put it back on my head."I do wish that you would make me better next time. You can, if you try. But I'm thankful you gave me eyes and a mouth, too. I like to see and I like to talk.""Don't you like to eat?" asked Peter. "What do you eat? Oh, dear! I'm afraid you eat little boys like me."The snow man began to shake. Bits of snow dropped on the floor."Why, Peter, I believe you are afraid of me. You needn't be. You'll laugh, too, when I tell you what I do eat. Sticks and twigs and leaves that I pick up when you are rolling me."Best of all I like mittens. I don't get very many. But I ate yours and Tim's this morning. They were good. I like red ones best. And I had only one red mitten."Then Peter did laugh. "What queer things to eat," he said. "And how funny you look when you laugh. You shake, but you do not laugh with your mouth.""Yes," said the snow man. "That's all because of Polly. You see, she made my mouth with a horrid straight stick. I can't bend it at all.""You make me very cold," said Peter. "You are so white. I want my mother to come and tuck me up.""I will try," the snow man said. And, with his snowy arms, he tried to pull up the bedclothes. One arm slipped and hit Peter's neck. Peter was so surprised that he screamed.In just a minute mother ran in. "What is it, dear?" she asked.Peter could only say, "The snow man, the snow man! He has been up here!""He's out in the yard, dear. I can see him. And he has lost his hat. The wind must have blown it off. It has been raining hard. The rain has come in at the window. It is wet on the floor.""He didn't have his hat up here," said Peter. "He dropped it when he started.He couldn't put it on. And he made those spots on the floor. It was not the rain. Pieces of snow dropped off him when he laughed."Mother only said, "I'll tuck you up again, Peter. We can see about it in the morning. Now good night."In the morning the rain had stopped. The children went to look at the snow man. He had grown much smaller in the night. There was a crack near the bottom of his legs."He did walk, he did, I know he did!" cried Peter. "That's what made the crack. And, O Polly, look at this!"Sticking out of the snow man's stomach was the end of a red mitten!CUTTING THE CHRISTMAS TREEIt was nearly Christmas. Peter could hardly wait for the day to come.He kept saying, "Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow? Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow?"At last father said, "Do you want Christmas before I get the tree?""No," said Peter. "But will you ever get it?""I will to-day. You and Polly may go with me. We will choose the prettiest fir tree we can find. Put on your things, and we will start now.""Oh, goody, goody!" cried Peter, jumping up and down. "Now I know that Christmas is almost here.""It will be here to-morrow," said father. "Run and tell Polly."They went through the field back of thehouse. They climbed over the stone-wall post office. Polly looked into some of the boxes for mail.She said, "Father, one day Peter told me that he had a pony in his post-office box.""It must have been a very large box, Polly. We do not have such large ones at the store. Which is it?""I don't care if I didn't have it in my box," said Peter. "I think I shall get it on the tree. It will be up in the tiptop.""Then we must find a strong tree, my boy. Can you see one you like?""That one," said Peter.Father laughed. "That is a strong tree. But it is too tall. We should have to cut a hole in the ceiling to stand it up. Find a smaller one.""There is a good tree, father. See how pretty it is. It looks like our little firs at home.""I believe that is just right for us, Polly. I will cut it down. Please hold my coat."Father swung his ax. He gave three sharp blows. All at once there was a chatter overhead.In the next tree a gray squirrel was runningup a large branch. He was scolding with all his might. His tail was jerking. He looked very cross."Well, old fellow," said father, "did I disturb you? I am sorry. Go back to sleep. We will not take your tree.""His is too bare, isn't it, father? The leaves have all gone. We must have a fir tree for ours. It has queer leaves. But they do not fall off in the winter.""That is why we call such trees evergreens, Polly. They are always green. Pine trees are evergreens, too. Their needles are longer than fir needles.""I think that is one of our squirrels," said Peter. "He took our nuts, Polly. I wonder where he put them.""He thought they were his," said Polly. "He needed them."Soon father had cut down the fir. He put it over his shoulder. The end dragged on the snow."Now we are ready for home," he said. "To-night mother and I will dress this tree. To-morrow you may see it.""Have you really a dress for it?" asked Peter. "I hope it is red. Who made it?""O Peter, how silly you are! Father means dress it up with candy bags and popped corn and presents.""I know now," said Peter. "Ponies and guns and things.""See the snow sparkle, children. The sun makes it do that. Look at the blue sky. Doesn't the air feel good to you?""It makes me feel like running," said Polly."Then run along, chicks. You will get home first. Tell mother that the Christmas tree is really coming. You may pop the corn this afternoon."THE GIVE-AWAY BOXWhen Peter and Polly got home, they ran into the house."Mother, mother!" they shouted. "The Christmas tree is coming. Father has it.""Why, mother," said Polly, "what makes the house smell so sweet? It smells just like the woods.""It is the green wreaths, Polly. I have them in all the rooms. There is one on the front door, too. These wreaths smell better than the ones that we buy. You may help me make the rest of them. We need more."So the children went into the kitchen. On a table were pieces of evergreen boughs.They helped their mother twist the pieces into circles. On each circle she wound many small twigs. When done, the wreaths were firm and thick and green."How good it does smell, mother. I like Christmas smells. But see my hands.""That is the pitch from the greens, Polly. Just rub on a little butter. It will take off the pitch. Then wash your hands in warm water. I will clean up the rest of the greens. When this is done, we will pop our corn."That was always fun. Polly liked to shake the popper. She liked to see the white kernels of corn hop up and down. She liked the good smell, too.Soon two large panfuls were popped. Then came another task. The corn must be strung. Polly and Peter both helped. But, of course, mother could string faster than they. She told them stories while they worked."When I was a little girl," said mother, "we did not have a Christmas tree. Instead, we hung up our stockings. We hung them near the fireplace. We thought Santa Claus could reach them better there."I was the smallest in our family. So my stocking was the smallest. My presents would never go into my stocking. This used to tease me."My dear grandmother found it out. One day she said to me, 'I am going toknit you a new red stocking. It is not to wear. It is for you to hang up.'"And the very next Christmas, what do you think? She had knit me a stocking as long as I was tall! How pleased I was to hang it up!"Now, children, the Give-away Box is ready. You may choose your things to give away."On the floor in the dining room there was a large box. It was filled with games, dolls, bags of candy and popped corn, and many other things.These were for Peter and Polly to give away. They would make other children happy. And that would make Peter and Polly happy, too.Peter chose a jumping jack for Tim. Polly chose to give him a whistle."He cannot whistle with his mouth yet," she said. "Perhaps Collie will come for this whistle."When Polly was out of the room, Peter chose a present for her. It was the prettiest doll that he had ever seen.Polly chose a train of cars for Peter. But he did not know that."We can give this candlestick to Mrs. White," said Polly. "She gave us back our Jack-o'-lanterns. I think she would like it."Mother said, "Why don't you give the hot water bag to grandmother? Her bag leaks.""Oh, we will, we will!" cried both children."Farmer Brown is our friend," said Polly. "He showed us his sheep. Mrs. Brown is our friend, too. She gave us aparty last summer. The lambs came to it. It was on her steps. Let us give them two wreaths.""There is my teacher," said Peter. "I will give her these marbles."Polly said, "Your teacher! You don't go to school, Peter.""I did one day," said Peter. "I like her. She was good to me. She is my teacher. I don't care what you say.""Never mind about that, chicks," said mother. "I'm afraid she hasn't a pocket for the marbles. Why not give her the box of handkerchiefs?"Before long the Give-away Box was empty. The presents were tied up. Every friend in the village had been remembered.Peter and Polly were tired. They were glad when it was bedtime.As mother tucked her up, Polly said, "I like the Give-away Box. It is fun. It is as much fun as it is to get things. You gave it to us, mother. You give us everything.""Father, too," said mother. "And it makes fathers and mothers happy to do that."
Peter Howe is a little boy. Polly is his sister. She is older than Peter.
They live in a white house. The house is on a hill. It is not in the city. It is in the country.
There are no houses close about it. But there are trees and fields around it.
In summer these fields are green. In winter the snow covers them.
The fields and the hills are as white as the house. Then there is fun playing in the snow.
Peter likes to watch the snowflakes. He calls them "white butterflies." But he knows what they are.
His friend, the Story Lady, told him. They are just frozen clouds.
Peter said to her, "I think they are prettier than raindrops. They can sail about in the air, too. Raindrops cannot. I like winter better than summer."
"It will be winter soon, Peter," said the Story Lady. "But many things must happen first.
"The birds must fly away. The leaves must turn red and yellow. Then they will fall and you can rake them into heaps. We will go to the woods for nuts.
"All these things will happen before winter comes."
"Yes," said Peter. "And my grandmother must knit me some thick stockings.And my father must buy me a winter coat. Grandmother must knit some stockings for Wag-wag, too."
"But Wag-wag is a dog, Peter. Dogs do not need stockings."
"My dog does," said Peter. "He needs a coat, too. His hair is short. It will not keep him warm. I shall ask father to buy him a coat."
"Do, Peter," said the Story Lady. "It is good to be kind to dogs. And when Wag-wag wears his coat and stockings, bring him to see me. I will take his picture."
It is fall. Summer is really over. But it is still warm. Jack Frost has not yet begun his work.
Peter and Polly have been watching the birds. For days they have seen great flocks of them. In the summer there were not so many together.
One day they saw several robins. These were flying from tree to tree.
Peter said, "I know they are having a party. They are playing tag."
"Perhaps they are," said his father. "Perhaps each bird is telling something to the bird he tags."
"What is he telling?" asked Peter.
"I think he is saying, 'Brother bird, don't you know that winter is coming? Soon the snow will be here. What shall we do then?
"'We cannot get food. We shall freeze.Come, let us fly away to the South. It is warm there.'"
"What does brother bird say?" asked Peter.
"I think brother bird says, 'It is a long way to the South. It will take many days and nights to fly there.
"'Are our children's wings yet strongenough? I do not like to go. But I know that we must.'"
"Doesn't he like to go, truly?" asked Peter.
"We do not know, Peter. The robins make their nests here. They lay their blue eggs here. They hatch their little birds here. They never do this in the South.
"Besides, they sing their beautiful songs here. They never sing them in the South. We like to think that they love the North better. But, of course, we do not know."
"How can they find their way back?" asked Polly.
"We do not know that, either, Polly. Many birds fly in the nighttime. Then they rest a part of the day."
"I couldn't find my way in the dark," said Polly.
"But the birds can," said father. "We do not know how. The winter home of some of our birds is thousands of miles from here."
"I like to watch the swallows," said Polly. "They sit in a line on a telephone wire. Then one flies to another wire. In a minute they all fly, too.
"I think that they are talking about going away soon. I hope they will not get lost."
"Yes," said father. "They will soon be gone. But perhaps some of these very birds will come back here next summer."
"I wish we could know them," said Polly.
"We shall have a few birds left this winter," said father. "You know some of them. You know the chick-a-dees and the woodpeckers. And this winter I shall show you others."
"May we hunt for nests and eggs, father?" asked Peter.
"We may hunt, Peter, but we won't find any eggs in winter. We shall find other things. Perhaps we shall find the white-footed mouse. He sometimes makes his home in an old bird's nest."
"Can a mouse climb trees, father? If he lives in a bird's nest, does he lay bird's eggs?"
"He can climb trees, Peter. But he cannot lay eggs. We will see if we can find Mr. White-foot some day.
"But first we will watch the birds fly away and the snow come."
Around Peter's house is a beautiful field. This is Mr. Howe's hayfield. You can find it on the map in the front of this book.
The children like this field. All the year round, it is a pleasant place.
In the spring they find blue violets here. In the summer they watch the birds that make nests in the tall grass. In the winter they slide here on the crust.
At the farther side of the field, there are some trees. These are butternut trees. In front of the trees is a stone wall.
Peter and Polly like to play by this wall. Sometimes they play that it is a post office.
The holes in the wall are the boxes. There is a box for every one in the village. Peter has more than one box; so has Polly.
The children take turns being the postmaster. If Peter is the postmaster, Polly calls for the mail.
The real post office is in their father's store. So they have often seen Mr. Howe put the mail into the boxes.
They use little sticks for the post cards. Leaves are the letters. Stones are the packages. Sometimes the boxes are full of mail—especially Peter's and Polly's.
Often they play that it is Christmas time. Then the boxes are full ofpackages. It is fun to guess what is in each package.
One day Peter said, "There is a knife in this package. I like it. There is a hammer in this package. I will build a house with it.
"There is a game in this package. Will you play it with me, Polly? And, O Polly! There is a pony in this package! That is what I wish for most of all."
"But, Peter, a pony is too big to be in your post-office box. It would not come by mail."
"Then Santa Claus will bring it," said Peter. "If I get it, I do not care how it comes."
One day the children saw that the butternuts were falling.
Polly said, "Let's pick up all we can. We will put them in our post-office boxes. When they are full, we will bring your cart. Then we can take the nuts home. We will crack them next winter."
So they filled the boxes with nuts. The nuts were still green. The children stained their hands with them.
While they were playing with the nuts, they saw two squirrels. These sat in thetrees above them. They watched Peter and Polly with their bright eyes, and scolded them a great deal.
"They want our nuts," said Polly. "But we have put them into our post-office boxes. We will keep them."
The next day the children went for their nuts. They took Peter's cart with them. What do you think they found?
Why, they found their boxes empty! The nuts were all gone!
"Some one bad has been here," said Peter.
Polly laughed. "You always say that, Peter. I think it was those squirrels. And I don't care, because they need the nuts to eat this winter."
"I don't care, either," said Peter. "I think we forgot to lock our boxes."
"Perhaps we did," said Polly. "But I guess the squirrels thought the boxes were theirs. When they called for their mail, they found the boxes full. How pleased they must have been! Let's pick up more nuts for them."
So the children again filled the post-office boxes with nuts. Then they went home and left them for the squirrels.
One day Peter saw something that pleased him. It was a branch of red leaves on a maple tree.
He said to mother, "It will be winter soon."
"Why do you think so, Peter?"
"I have seen red leaves," said Peter.
"But, Peter, a few red leaves do not count. There are red leaves in the summer. You must watch until you see many red, yellow, and brown leaves."
"What makes the leaves red and yellow, mother? Is it magic?" asked Peter. "Can you do it?"
"Perhaps it is a kind of magic, Peter. It is like the clouds turning into snow. I cannot do that."
Then Peter watched for all the trees to turn. At last they were bright with colors.
The maples were red and yellow; the oaks a deep red. The beeches were a bright yellow.
Even the elm trees in front of the house were yellow. Now Polly liked more than ever to swing. The swing took her way up among the yellow leaves.
Then, one day, the leaves began to fall. Down they came, a few at a time. The next day more fell, and the next and the next.
Polly said, "They are prettier than the snowflakes. The snow is white. These have lovely colors. See them flying through the air."
At last most of the trees were bare. The leaves lay on the ground.
Then Peter said, "Oh, the poor trees!They haven't any clothes on. I am so sorry."
Polly said, "The leaves are not clothes. They are children. Now they have gone to bed. The snow is their blanket. When it comes, it will keep them warm. If we leave them alone, they will sleep all winter. I learned it in a poem."
"They cannot go to sleep yet," said Peter. "I shall not let them. I shall wake them up."
"How will you do that?" asked Polly.
"I shall run in them. That will keep them awake. I shall do it now. Come on! See if you can make as much noise as I can."
After a while the children raked the leaves into large heaps. Then they jumped in the heaps. This scattered the leaves. But the children did not care. They raked them up again.
Once Peter jumped where the leaves were not very deep. He came to the ground with a bang. He was surprised. But he was not much hurt.
He said to mother, "My teeth shut with a noise when I went down."
Mother said, "It is lucky that your tongue was not in the way. You would have bitten it badly."
"Come in now, both of you. You must wash your hands and faces. Father will be home soon. You may play in the leaves to-morrow."
I'll tell you how the leaves came down.The great Tree to his children said,"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,Yes, very sleepy, little Red;It is quite time you went to bed.""Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,"Let us a little longer stay;Dear Father Tree, behold our grief;'Tis such a very pleasant dayWe do not want to go away."So, just for one more merry dayTo the great Tree the leaflets clung,Frolicked and danced and had their way,Upon the autumn breezes swung,Whispering all their sports among,—"Perhaps the great Tree will forget,And let us stay until the spring,If we all beg and coax and fret."But the great Tree did no such thing;He smiled to hear their whispering."Come, children, all to bed," he cried;And ere the leaves could urge their prayerHe shook his head, and far and wide,Fluttering and rustling everywhere,Down sped the leaflets through the air.I saw them; on the ground they lay,Golden and red, a huddled swarm,Waiting till one from far away,White bedclothes heaped upon her arm,Should come to wrap them safe and warm.The great bare Tree looked down and smiled,"Good night, dear little leaves," he said.And from below, each sleepy childReplied, "Good night," and murmured,"It is so nice to go to bed!"—Susan Coolidge.[1]Copyright, 1889, by Roberts Brothers.
I'll tell you how the leaves came down.The great Tree to his children said,"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,Yes, very sleepy, little Red;It is quite time you went to bed.""Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,"Let us a little longer stay;Dear Father Tree, behold our grief;'Tis such a very pleasant dayWe do not want to go away."So, just for one more merry dayTo the great Tree the leaflets clung,Frolicked and danced and had their way,Upon the autumn breezes swung,Whispering all their sports among,—"Perhaps the great Tree will forget,And let us stay until the spring,If we all beg and coax and fret."But the great Tree did no such thing;He smiled to hear their whispering.
I'll tell you how the leaves came down.The great Tree to his children said,"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,Yes, very sleepy, little Red;It is quite time you went to bed."
"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,"Let us a little longer stay;Dear Father Tree, behold our grief;'Tis such a very pleasant dayWe do not want to go away."
So, just for one more merry dayTo the great Tree the leaflets clung,Frolicked and danced and had their way,Upon the autumn breezes swung,Whispering all their sports among,—
"Perhaps the great Tree will forget,And let us stay until the spring,If we all beg and coax and fret."But the great Tree did no such thing;He smiled to hear their whispering.
"Come, children, all to bed," he cried;And ere the leaves could urge their prayerHe shook his head, and far and wide,Fluttering and rustling everywhere,Down sped the leaflets through the air.I saw them; on the ground they lay,Golden and red, a huddled swarm,Waiting till one from far away,White bedclothes heaped upon her arm,Should come to wrap them safe and warm.The great bare Tree looked down and smiled,"Good night, dear little leaves," he said.And from below, each sleepy childReplied, "Good night," and murmured,"It is so nice to go to bed!"—Susan Coolidge.
"Come, children, all to bed," he cried;And ere the leaves could urge their prayerHe shook his head, and far and wide,Fluttering and rustling everywhere,Down sped the leaflets through the air.
I saw them; on the ground they lay,Golden and red, a huddled swarm,Waiting till one from far away,White bedclothes heaped upon her arm,Should come to wrap them safe and warm.
The great bare Tree looked down and smiled,"Good night, dear little leaves," he said.And from below, each sleepy childReplied, "Good night," and murmured,"It is so nice to go to bed!"
—Susan Coolidge.
[1]Copyright, 1889, by Roberts Brothers.
[1]Copyright, 1889, by Roberts Brothers.
The next day father said, "Peter and Polly, will you work for me? I wish to buy your leaves. I will give you a cent for three loads."
"Oh, goody, goody!" said Polly.
"Oh, goody, goody!" said Peter.
"You must put the leaves in a pile in the garden. I will show you where."
"What will you do with them, father?" asked Polly.
"You will see to-night, if you are good workmen."
In the night the wind had blown the leaves about. So the children raked them up once more.
Then they filled the big basket full.They packed in the leaves as hard as they could.
"That is to give good measure," said Polly. "Father always gives good measure at his store. So you and I must, too."
Every time they took a basketful to the garden, Polly made a mark on a piece of paper.
At last the yard was raked clean. They had taken to the garden twenty-nine loads. They had worked nearly all day.
At supper father said, "You are good workmen, chicks. Our yard looks very clean. It is ready for winter.
"You piled the leaves carefully in the garden, too. Now, how much do I owe you?"
"We took twenty-nine loads, father," said Polly. "I wish there had been one more to make thirty."
"Why do you wish that, Polly?"
"Because three goes in thirty better than in twenty-nine."
"Well," said father, "we will call it thirty loads, Polly. I saw you packing the leaves into the basket very hard.
"You are honest workmen to give mesuch good measure. Now, Polly, three goes in thirty how many times?"
"Ten times, father. So you owe us ten cents. We shall each have five cents."
"Very good, Polly. Here is your money. I have a surprise for you. Put on your coats and come to the garden. Mother will come, too."
In the garden they found father beside the pile of leaves. He had thrown many things upon it.
He said, "I came home early and cleaned up the garden. Now, what shall we do with all this stuff?"
"Burn it, burn it!" shouted both children at once. "A bonfire, a bonfire!"
"Very well," said father. "You may burn it. Here is a match for you, Polly. And here is one for you, Peter. Light your fire."
Polly and Peter lighted the great heap. Soon the red flames were leaping up. They made the garden bright. Farther away from the fire it was very dark.
"Oh, see, see, mother!" cried Polly. "The flames are as pretty as the red and yellow leaves. Have they taken the color from the leaves? How hot they are!"
The children danced around the fire until it died down. Then mother took them into the house. It was bedtime.
Peter is a nice little boy. But he can be very naughty. Mother and father know this. Grandmother Howe and Polly know it, too.
You see, Peter always wishes his own way. And you know this is not good for little boys and little girls.
Peter cannot have cake between his meals. He may always have milk to drink. Sometimes he may have bread and jelly, or bread and sugar.
He likes this very much. But he does notlike the crusts of the bread. So he used to eat only the soft part. The crusts he threw away.
But at the table he could not throw them away.
Then he put them under the edge of his plate. You know how.
When mother took the plate, there would be a crust on the table. It did not look very well.
One day father said, "Peter, you are a big boy now. You are nearly five years old. You are old enough to eat your crusts.
"I will give you a week in which to learn how. After that, I shall not expect to see any more crusts on the table."
Peter knew that, when his father spoke so, he meant what he said. But the little boy thought he would not eat his crusts until he had to do so.
He said to himself, "In a week I will begin to eat them all up. But now I will still put them under my plate."
So, every day when his plate was taken away, there were the crusts. Peter did not see his father look at them. And his father said nothing more about them.
By and by Peter began to think that his father had forgotten.
So, when the week was over, he said to himself, "I am sure that my father has forgotten. I am going to keep on leaving my crusts."
But his father had not forgotten. He was just waiting to see if Peter would obey.
That noon he saw that Peter had left a crust.
He said, "My son, you have not learned to eat your crusts. And you have not learned to obey. I must teach you."
Then Peter was more naughty still. He said, "I do not like old crust. I will throw old crust away. Then I cannot eat it."
He picked up the crust and jumped down from his chair.
His father called, "Peter!"
But Peter did not stop. He ran to the door and threw the crust out upon the grass.
His father went after him. "You may pick up your crust, Peter," said he.
This time Peter started to obey. He knew that he had been very naughty. But, before he could get to the crust, an old henran up. She snatched it in her bill and off she went.
Peter looked at his father. He was not sure what his father would do. He almost wished the hen had not taken the crust.
Father only laughed. He said, "That old hen is a friend of yours, Peter. If it had not been for her, you would have eaten that crust."
"I know it," said Peter. "And, father, I am sorry. I do not like to be naughty. I will be good. I will eat my crusts now to please you."
And after this he did.
"Water now has turned to stone,Stone that I can walk upon."
"Water now has turned to stone,Stone that I can walk upon."
One morning mother said, "Polly, will you go to the store for me? I need a can of corn. We must have it for dinner."
"May Peter go, too, mother?"
"Oh, yes, Peter may go, if he wishes. Run and find him."
Now Polly and Peter liked to go to the store. It belonged to their father. Sometimes they helped him unpack goods. Sometimes they sat still and watched the customers.
Sometimes he let them play keeping store. Once Polly had really sold some candy to another little girl.
But to-day they could not stay to play. They must get the can of corn for mother, and come home.
They went down the hill. At the railroad tracks they stopped. They looked for a train. They saw none, so they ran across the tracks.
Then they came to the bridge. You can find it on the map in the front of this book.
They stopped to look over the rail at the water, far below.
"O Polly!" said Peter. "What is on the water?"
"Why, it is ice, Peter. The top of the water is frozen. See, the ice goes nearly across the river."
"Ice, ice!" shouted Peter. "Now winter is almost here. The leaves have gone. The ice has come. Let's run and tell father."
The children ran to the store.
"Father, father," called Peter, "we have seen ice!"
"So have I," said father. "Where did you see it?"
"We saw it from the bridge. The river is frozen at the sides. It is not frozen in the middle."
"Yes," said father. "It freezes first at the edges, because the water flows more slowly there. In the middle it flows faster.
"Every cold night that ice will grow. It will soon cover the middle of the river, too. And at the same time it will grow thicker."
"By and by it will be so thick that we can walk upon it. Then it is time to learn to skate. Perhaps you can learn this winter."
"When the ice is thick enough, men cut it into blocks. What will they do with them?"
"Make houses of them," said Peter.
"O Peter, we are not Eskimos," said Polly. "I know, father. They will put the ice into big ice houses. They will keep it to use in the hot summer. I saw them doing it last winter."
"Right, Polly. That is where our ice comes from in the summer."
"Does all the water in the river freeze, father? Where do the fishes go? Are they in the ice?"
"The ice is lighter than the water, Peter. So it stays on top of the water. The bottom of our river does not freeze. The fishes are there. They do not mind the cold as we do.
"Did you come to the store just to tell me about the ice, chicks?"
"No, father," said Polly. "We came fora can of corn. We saw the ice when we were on the bridge."
"Then here is the corn. Take it to mother and tell her about the ice."
Off went the children. When they came to the bridge, Peter dropped some small stones on the ice. But it did not break.
"It must be thick now, Polly," said he. "I wish we could skate."
"We weigh more than those stones do, Peter. I think the cold will have to make the ice grow more before father will let us. And, anyway, we have no skates."
"Let's tell mother about that, too, Polly. Perhaps she knows where there are some."
So Peter and Polly hurried up the hill to find their mother.
"Polly and Peter," said Mr. Howe, "I have something for you. It is something to use in the winter, and not in the summer. You may have three guesses."
"It can't be a sled," said Polly, "for we have sleds."
"It can't be a coat," said Peter, "for we have coats."
"And we have mittens and leggings and overshoes, too," said Polly.
"It might be my pony," said Peter.
"No," said Polly. "It couldn't be, Peter. We can use a pony in the summer. Let's not guess that."
"Is it good to eat, father?" asked Peter. "I am hungry now."
"No, Peter. And there are four of them; two for each of you. They are hard and shiny."
"Guns, guns!" shouted Peter.
"One guess is gone, Peter. What would you do with two guns?"
"Are they for us to wear, father?" asked Polly.
"Yes, Polly, but not all the time. You cannot wear them in the house."
"Then I know what they are, father. If there are two for each of us, that is one for each foot. Can't you guess now, Peter?"
"Rubber boots," shouted Peter.
"I think it is skates, father. And I am glad. I have wished for some ever since we saw the ice."
"You have made a good guess, Polly. Bring me the box that is in the hall."
Out of the box Mr. Howe took two pairs of shining new skates.
"Oh, goody, goody!" cried both children, when they saw what was in the box.
"We will go skating now," said father. "Then we can try them."
At the edge of the river he stopped. He put on the children's skates. Then he put on his own.
"I will show you how to do it," he said. "Then I will help you just a little."
He showed them how to strike out, first
with one foot and then with the other. His tracks looked like this:
Then Polly tried, but her tracks looked like this:
"That is not the way, Polly," said her father. "You are skating with your right foot. But you are only pushing with your left. You must skate with both. Watch me again."
Then Peter tried. His tracks looked like this:
The cross marks the place where Peter fell down. But he did not care. He got up and tried again.
Polly was doing better. So her father took hold of her and helped her a little.
He said, "I wish you to learn alone. Then you will be a good skater. If I help you all the time, you will never be able to skate alone."
Polly said, "That is what my teacher tells us. She says, 'I will show you how to do it. And I will help you a little. Then you must try for yourself.'"
"That is good," said father. "You must learn to do things alone. Your teacher and your father will not always be near."
Soon the skates were taken off. "We must not stay too long the first time," said father. "You may come again to-morrow. You may skate every day until the snow comes."
"Oh, may we, father, may we?" cried Peter and Polly, jumping up and down. "And when the snow comes, we can sweep it off the ice."
"Maybe I shall not wish for any snow now," said Peter. "Maybe I like skating better."
"You will get the snow just the same, my son," said father. "So you may as well wish for it. It is sure to come."
"Now, good-by. We have all had a good time. Take my skates home with you and dry them when you dry yours. Then they will not rust. We will bring mother the next time we come."
One morning mother called to Peter, "Wake up, Peter! Look out of your window. Winter has come."
Peter had been dreaming about a big snow man who chased him. He jumped out of bed and said, "You didn't get me that time, old snow man. I woke up too soon."
He ran to the window. The ground was white. The trees were white. The air was full of the white butterflies that Peter likes so well.
"Oh! Oh!" he shouted. "I must go out to play! I must go out to play!"
"Not until you are dressed, Peter," said mother. "Then you must have breakfast. After that you may go out."
At breakfast father said, "It has snowed a foot since dark yesterday. How many inches is that, Polly?"
"It is twelve inches, father. Do you think this snow has come to stay? Or will it melt away?"
"I think that it will stay, Polly. It is time for sleighing."
Peter and Polly put on their coats and caps, their leggings, overshoes, and mittens. Then they were ready to go out.
At first Peter ran about in the yard. He kicked up the snow as he ran. It flew all over him.
"Polly, Polly!" he called. "I am a snow man now. I shall chase you as the one in my dream chased me."
He ran after her. Just as he caught her, she slipped. Down they both went. They were covered from head to foot with snow.
"Now we are both snow men," said Polly. "Let's go and shake the little trees."
These were two fir trees. They were at the side of the house. Polly took hold of the end of a low branch. Peter stood under the tree, while Polly shook it. Down came a shower of snow.
Then Polly stood under the other, while Peter shook that. Down came another shower of snow. Some of this went into Polly's neck. But Polly did not care.
"Now we will show grandmother how white we are," she said.
Grandmother heard them coming. She went out on the piazza.
She said, "I see two snow men. I cannot ask them in. Snow men would melt near the fire. Then they would be nothing but water."
"Oh, yes, grandmother, they would be Peter and Polly," said Peter.
"Why, Peter! Why, Polly! Is this really you? I have no spectacles on, this morning. Where are your sleds?"
"In the barn, in the barn!" shouted Peter. "We could not wait for them."
"See the posts of your fence, grandmother," said Polly. "They all have on tall white caps."
"So they have, Polly. And how clean the snow caps are. How clean the snow makes everything. We are all glad to have it, aren't we?"
"I am, I am!" shouted Peter. "Winter has come, winter has come! Good-by, grandmother. I must go and play."
"Good-by," called grandmother. "Come down to dinner, if mother will let you. We will have sugar on snow."
"She will let us," called Peter. "I know she will. And I will get the pan of snow for the sugar."
All that day Peter and Polly played in the snow. All day Peter's white butterflies fell. Down they came out of the air, softly and silently.
Peter liked to stand and look up into the sky. He liked to feel the soft flakes light upon his face. He liked to see them on his coat sleeve.
Polly said, "Aren't the flakes pretty, Peter? They are little stars. The perfect ones have six points. The Story Lady told me a story about a star snowflake. I will tell it to you.
"Once a little water fairy lived in our brook, back of grandmother's house. One day she was very, very naughty. She did not wish to go up into the air. She did notwish to be part of a cloud. She wished to stay in the brook.
"Her father said, 'You must go. And I shall have you punished for being so naughty. I shall have Jack Frost change you into a snowflake.'
"Jack Frost came one day to change the cloud into snowflakes. He saw how sorry the water fairy was because she had been so naughty.
"So he said, 'You know that I have to make all snowflakes like stars. Some of them are very pretty. I will change you into the prettiest star snowflake that I know.'
"'And when you melt,' said Jack Frost, 'you will be a water fairy again. You will always be good then, won't you?'
"So he changed her into a beautiful star snowflake. I have seen her picture. The Story Lady showed it to me."
"Let's find her," said Peter. "Then let's show her to the Story Lady. That will be better than the picture."
So the children looked and looked. They found many stars. But Polly was not sure that any one of them was the right one.
At last Peter found the most beautiful starof all. "This is the water fairy, this is the water fairy!" he cried.
And Polly said, "It does look like the picture. So let's go and show it to the Story Lady."
Down they went to her house and into the kitchen. There was the Story Lady, washing dishes.
"O Story Lady," said Peter. "I have the water fairy on my arm! She is changed into a star. See her!"
But when the Story Lady looked, there was no star snowflake.
"She has gone," said Peter. "That is too bad." And he looked ready to cry.
"Why, yes, Peter," said the Story Lady. "She has gone. But don't you think that she is happy to be just a water fairy again? She likes that better, you know. You must be glad that you found her and helped her melt."
"I am glad," said Peter. "But it was only a 'Once upon a time' story, wasn't it?"
"Of course it was, Peter. But don't you know that all snowflakes are water fairies? Now run along and play with those that are left."
Grandmother was getting ready for Thanksgiving. Peter and Polly and father and mother were going to her house on that day.
So grandmother was making mince pies. She was making other things, too. One was fruit cake.
Peter and Polly were down at grandmother's, helping. At least, Polly was helping and Peter was hindering.
He seemed bound to stand just where grandmother wished to walk. He spilled a cup of milk on the table. After he had wiped it up, he upset some flour.
But he did not mean to hinder.
Polly watched her grandmother make the pies. She watched her roll the pie crust thin and trim it to the size of the plate.
She said, "If I had some dough, I am sure I could do that."
Her grandmother gave her some and a little plate. Polly rubbed the plate with melted butter. Then she rolled out the dough and put it on the plate.
"That is very good, Polly. Now we will fill our pies. Here is the mincemeat."
Polly tried to make her little pie look like grandmother's large one.
"Next we must put on the covers," said grandmother. "Roll yours out like mine."
She had Polly stick a knife through her cover in four places. Ask your mother why she did this.
Then she helped Polly put on her cover, for that was quite hard to do. Last of all she showed her how to pinch together the edges.
"Now," said grandmother, "we will bake our pies. What shall you do with yours?"
"I should like to take it home to show mother and father. May I?"
"Why, to be sure. They ought to have a bite of your first pie. Please, Peter, carry this pail of sugar into the pantry for me. I do not need it any more."
The pies were baked brown. As soon as hers was cool enough, Polly carried it up the hill to mother.
"See, mother," she said, "I can cook now. Grandmother let me make a pie. It is for you and father."
"How good it looks, Polly! We will try it for dinner. You have done this well. I see that I must begin to teach you to cook.
"Bread comes first. The next time I sponge bread, you may try. Your first good loaf you may take to grandmother."
"Oh, may I, mother? I want to learn to cook. Then I can cook for you and father. I watched grandmother all the morning. I helped her, too."
"So did I help grandmother," said Peter.
"O Peter, what did you do to help?" asked Polly. "You spilled the milk and then you spilled the flour. That isn't helping much."
"I did help," said Peter. "I helped all the morning. I worked very hard."
"I am sure that you meant to, Peter," said mother. "But tell me what you did."
"Why," said Peter, "why, I carried away the pail of sugar."
Polly laughed, but mother said, "That was kind, Peter. And you know that you always help by being a good boy. So I really think that you are right."
"Let's make a snow man this morning. Will you, Peter? The snow is just right for big balls."
"Then we will," said Peter. "But let's get Tim to help us."
Tim is Peter's playmate. He lives on a farm. His house is farther up the hill. Look for it on the map in the front of this book.
Soon Tim was down at Peter's. His big dog Collie was with him. Wag-wag and Collie are friends. They often play together.
The three children began to roll snowballs. Polly's grew very large. The boys had to help her with it. They pushed it over and over. At last it was quite near the edge of the bank.
"One more push," said Polly. "Then it will be just right. People can see the man from the road."
But that push was too much. Over the edge of the bank the big ball rolled.
"Oh, stop, stop!" cried Peter. "Do not run away. We will make you into a good snow man."
But the ball did not stop. It rolled against Tim. It knocked him flat. Peter and Polly fell down the bank after it. At last it smashed itself against the fence.
"Never mind," said Polly. "We can make another. Do not let the next one knock you down, Tim."
"Old snowball ran over me," said Tim. "But I do not care. He smashed himself."
Another big ball was made. It was rolled into place. Then smaller ones were lifted on it. These were for the body.
At last the head was ready. Polly stood in a chair. She stuck the head on the body. She made eyes, a nose, and a mouth with small sticks.
She put an old hat on the head. She put a branch under the arm.
Then she said, "We will name you White Giant. You may take care of our house at night. In the daytime you may play with us. Will you, old Giant?"
Polly did not think that the snow man could talk. But just then she heard some one say, "Of course I will play with you, Polly."
"Oh, oh! Has he come alive?" cried Peter. "Can he chase me? I do not wish him to do that." And he ran behind Polly.
"I cannot chase you, Peter," the snow man seemed to say. "I cannot move at all in the daytime. But at night you should see me."
"I saw you the other night in a dream," said Peter. "I did not like you. You chased me."
"I will never do that again, Peter. So you must not be afraid of me."
Just then Tim cried out, "Look, look!" And there behind a tree was Peter's father.
Polly laughed. "I know now that the snow man did not talk," she said. "At first I thought he did. It was you, wasn't it, father?"
"Why do you think so, Polly? You didn't see me. Did it sound like me?"
"No, it did not, father," said Peter. "And I think it was the snow man. I am going to watch him to-night and see."
"Why don't you?" asked father. "I should like to know about it. You tell me when you find out. Where are your mittens, Tim? Aren't your hands cold?"
"I've lost them. And Peter has lost one of his red ones. We can't find them at all."
"Perhaps they are under the snow. The sun will help you find them by and by. Peter, run in and tell mother. She will get some mittens for you and Tim to wear.
"When you come back, bring the old broom. That is better than the branch for your snow man. If you watch to-night, you may see what he does with it."
At bedtime Peter said, "I want to sit up. I am going to watch the snow man."
"Why?" asked mother.
"I heard him speak," said Peter. "He said he would not chase me. He said I ought to see him at night. He can move then."
"Very well," said mother. "But you might get into your bed. You can watch him from your window."
"I did not think of that, mother. I will go now."
Soon Peter was in bed. By sitting up, he could see the snow man. His window was wide open. But Peter had on thick night clothes. He did not feel the cold.
The moon was bright. Peter thought of his friend, the Fairy Bird. He wished the Bird would come again and take him to the moon.
All at once he rubbed his eyes. Where was the snow man? He looked again. The snow man was gone!
"Oh, oh!" said Peter to himself. "I've lost him. That's too bad. Now I shall not see anything."
But just then the door opened softly. Peter saw something white coming into his room. It was the snow man!
Peter was so surprised that he nearly jumped out of bed. He was frightened, too. He called, "Oh, dear!"
"Sh, sh, sh!" said the snow man. "You'll wake every one in the house. I came up here to please you. I don't care to see any one else.
"It was hard work climbing the stairs. You children didn't make me very good legs; nor very good arms, either, I must say. I have no feet and no hands.
"My hat came off when I broke myself away from the snow. But, without hands, I couldn't put it back on my head.
"I do wish that you would make me better next time. You can, if you try. But I'm thankful you gave me eyes and a mouth, too. I like to see and I like to talk."
"Don't you like to eat?" asked Peter. "What do you eat? Oh, dear! I'm afraid you eat little boys like me."
The snow man began to shake. Bits of snow dropped on the floor.
"Why, Peter, I believe you are afraid of me. You needn't be. You'll laugh, too, when I tell you what I do eat. Sticks and twigs and leaves that I pick up when you are rolling me.
"Best of all I like mittens. I don't get very many. But I ate yours and Tim's this morning. They were good. I like red ones best. And I had only one red mitten."
Then Peter did laugh. "What queer things to eat," he said. "And how funny you look when you laugh. You shake, but you do not laugh with your mouth."
"Yes," said the snow man. "That's all because of Polly. You see, she made my mouth with a horrid straight stick. I can't bend it at all."
"You make me very cold," said Peter. "You are so white. I want my mother to come and tuck me up."
"I will try," the snow man said. And, with his snowy arms, he tried to pull up the bedclothes. One arm slipped and hit Peter's neck. Peter was so surprised that he screamed.
In just a minute mother ran in. "What is it, dear?" she asked.
Peter could only say, "The snow man, the snow man! He has been up here!"
"He's out in the yard, dear. I can see him. And he has lost his hat. The wind must have blown it off. It has been raining hard. The rain has come in at the window. It is wet on the floor."
"He didn't have his hat up here," said Peter. "He dropped it when he started.He couldn't put it on. And he made those spots on the floor. It was not the rain. Pieces of snow dropped off him when he laughed."
Mother only said, "I'll tuck you up again, Peter. We can see about it in the morning. Now good night."
In the morning the rain had stopped. The children went to look at the snow man. He had grown much smaller in the night. There was a crack near the bottom of his legs.
"He did walk, he did, I know he did!" cried Peter. "That's what made the crack. And, O Polly, look at this!"
Sticking out of the snow man's stomach was the end of a red mitten!
It was nearly Christmas. Peter could hardly wait for the day to come.
He kept saying, "Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow? Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow?"
At last father said, "Do you want Christmas before I get the tree?"
"No," said Peter. "But will you ever get it?"
"I will to-day. You and Polly may go with me. We will choose the prettiest fir tree we can find. Put on your things, and we will start now."
"Oh, goody, goody!" cried Peter, jumping up and down. "Now I know that Christmas is almost here."
"It will be here to-morrow," said father. "Run and tell Polly."
They went through the field back of thehouse. They climbed over the stone-wall post office. Polly looked into some of the boxes for mail.
She said, "Father, one day Peter told me that he had a pony in his post-office box."
"It must have been a very large box, Polly. We do not have such large ones at the store. Which is it?"
"I don't care if I didn't have it in my box," said Peter. "I think I shall get it on the tree. It will be up in the tiptop."
"Then we must find a strong tree, my boy. Can you see one you like?"
"That one," said Peter.
Father laughed. "That is a strong tree. But it is too tall. We should have to cut a hole in the ceiling to stand it up. Find a smaller one."
"There is a good tree, father. See how pretty it is. It looks like our little firs at home."
"I believe that is just right for us, Polly. I will cut it down. Please hold my coat."
Father swung his ax. He gave three sharp blows. All at once there was a chatter overhead.
In the next tree a gray squirrel was runningup a large branch. He was scolding with all his might. His tail was jerking. He looked very cross.
"Well, old fellow," said father, "did I disturb you? I am sorry. Go back to sleep. We will not take your tree."
"His is too bare, isn't it, father? The leaves have all gone. We must have a fir tree for ours. It has queer leaves. But they do not fall off in the winter."
"That is why we call such trees evergreens, Polly. They are always green. Pine trees are evergreens, too. Their needles are longer than fir needles."
"I think that is one of our squirrels," said Peter. "He took our nuts, Polly. I wonder where he put them."
"He thought they were his," said Polly. "He needed them."
Soon father had cut down the fir. He put it over his shoulder. The end dragged on the snow.
"Now we are ready for home," he said. "To-night mother and I will dress this tree. To-morrow you may see it."
"Have you really a dress for it?" asked Peter. "I hope it is red. Who made it?"
"O Peter, how silly you are! Father means dress it up with candy bags and popped corn and presents."
"I know now," said Peter. "Ponies and guns and things."
"See the snow sparkle, children. The sun makes it do that. Look at the blue sky. Doesn't the air feel good to you?"
"It makes me feel like running," said Polly.
"Then run along, chicks. You will get home first. Tell mother that the Christmas tree is really coming. You may pop the corn this afternoon."
When Peter and Polly got home, they ran into the house.
"Mother, mother!" they shouted. "The Christmas tree is coming. Father has it."
"Why, mother," said Polly, "what makes the house smell so sweet? It smells just like the woods."
"It is the green wreaths, Polly. I have them in all the rooms. There is one on the front door, too. These wreaths smell better than the ones that we buy. You may help me make the rest of them. We need more."
So the children went into the kitchen. On a table were pieces of evergreen boughs.
They helped their mother twist the pieces into circles. On each circle she wound many small twigs. When done, the wreaths were firm and thick and green.
"How good it does smell, mother. I like Christmas smells. But see my hands."
"That is the pitch from the greens, Polly. Just rub on a little butter. It will take off the pitch. Then wash your hands in warm water. I will clean up the rest of the greens. When this is done, we will pop our corn."
That was always fun. Polly liked to shake the popper. She liked to see the white kernels of corn hop up and down. She liked the good smell, too.
Soon two large panfuls were popped. Then came another task. The corn must be strung. Polly and Peter both helped. But, of course, mother could string faster than they. She told them stories while they worked.
"When I was a little girl," said mother, "we did not have a Christmas tree. Instead, we hung up our stockings. We hung them near the fireplace. We thought Santa Claus could reach them better there.
"I was the smallest in our family. So my stocking was the smallest. My presents would never go into my stocking. This used to tease me.
"My dear grandmother found it out. One day she said to me, 'I am going toknit you a new red stocking. It is not to wear. It is for you to hang up.'
"And the very next Christmas, what do you think? She had knit me a stocking as long as I was tall! How pleased I was to hang it up!
"Now, children, the Give-away Box is ready. You may choose your things to give away."
On the floor in the dining room there was a large box. It was filled with games, dolls, bags of candy and popped corn, and many other things.
These were for Peter and Polly to give away. They would make other children happy. And that would make Peter and Polly happy, too.
Peter chose a jumping jack for Tim. Polly chose to give him a whistle.
"He cannot whistle with his mouth yet," she said. "Perhaps Collie will come for this whistle."
When Polly was out of the room, Peter chose a present for her. It was the prettiest doll that he had ever seen.
Polly chose a train of cars for Peter. But he did not know that.
"We can give this candlestick to Mrs. White," said Polly. "She gave us back our Jack-o'-lanterns. I think she would like it."
Mother said, "Why don't you give the hot water bag to grandmother? Her bag leaks."
"Oh, we will, we will!" cried both children.
"Farmer Brown is our friend," said Polly. "He showed us his sheep. Mrs. Brown is our friend, too. She gave us aparty last summer. The lambs came to it. It was on her steps. Let us give them two wreaths."
"There is my teacher," said Peter. "I will give her these marbles."
Polly said, "Your teacher! You don't go to school, Peter."
"I did one day," said Peter. "I like her. She was good to me. She is my teacher. I don't care what you say."
"Never mind about that, chicks," said mother. "I'm afraid she hasn't a pocket for the marbles. Why not give her the box of handkerchiefs?"
Before long the Give-away Box was empty. The presents were tied up. Every friend in the village had been remembered.
Peter and Polly were tired. They were glad when it was bedtime.
As mother tucked her up, Polly said, "I like the Give-away Box. It is fun. It is as much fun as it is to get things. You gave it to us, mother. You give us everything."
"Father, too," said mother. "And it makes fathers and mothers happy to do that."