Part 20

“We will pretend not to hear them but it will please us,” said the eleventh little brown caterpillar.

“Of course it will please us,” said the twelfth little brown caterpillar.

“We will eat and grow strong so we will be very beautiful,” said the thirteenth little brown caterpillar.

“And eat, too, because it is so pleasant to eat,” said the fourteenth little brown caterpillar as he took an extra large nibble at their leaf dining-room.

So they ate until they were a little bigger and then they went off, each one alone, to look for more food and adventures.

AUGUST 13: The Catbird

“Tell me what happened, Mr. Catbird,” said Billie Brownie.

“Well, I was sitting on the fence, this very same fence upon which I’m now sitting, and some children were playing in the yard near-by.

“While they were playing I made all sorts of queer sounds just like a cat.

“You know how I can take off the various sounds of a cat?”

“I most certainly do that,” said Billie Brownie.

“They didn’t know where the cat could be, and they began to look for the cat.

“I almost fell off the fence laughing when they started to look for the cat.

“Then when they were looking by the cellar stairs and under the old tree yonder I took great chances that they might see that I was not the cat, and I made the same sounds again.

“They kept saying to each other:

“‘Well, I’m sure I heard a cat that time.’

“I really and truly almost fell off the fence laughing. Then they came back and went on with their games. They saw me sitting here and I had my beak tight and looked as though I hadn’t made a sound.”

“I know,” said Billie Brownie.

“Then I sat very still, of course, and one of them said:

“‘Well, all I can see is that gray bird with the black cap.’

“Of course they meant they could see me, and I was the one making all the sounds like a cat.

“They finished playing after a time and began to dig in the garden, transplanting the lettuce and hoeing the beans and watering the vegetables.

“Then I began to make sounds like the different birds and they would turn to one another and say:

“‘What song is that? Whose voice was that? Do you know what bird that could have been?’

“And they’d look about and not see any of the other birds, for hardly any birds were around then, and I sat, looking so quiet and meek.

“And then I heard one of them say:

“‘I still don’t see any other creature but that gray bird.’

“I thought surely then that they knew I was fooling them, but I found out they didn’t know I could make sounds like a cat and sing like the other birds and sometimes like a mocking-bird, too.

“But they didn’t know. And they’ve all gone off now. And still they’re wondering where the cat could have been which they thought they heard, and where all the birds were they were unable to see.

“Ha, ha, ha, that is the greatest joke—to think I fooled them all.”

“Well, you’re a smart bird, there is no mistake about that,” said Billie Brownie, “and I can tell you I admire your smartness.”

“I fooled them, I fooled them,” chirped Mr. Catbird. “They didn’t know the catbird when they saw him, nor did they know him when they heard him at his little jokes!”

AUGUST 14: The Fairy Queen’s Story

This was the story the Fairy Queen told before her banquet the other evening.

“An old lady had a little cabin home just off these woods. Her only companion was a cat. The cat was black but two paws were white, and the old lady thought they were very wonderful.

“Now and again the old lady had to go into the village to buy food. Sometimes the cat would follow, wearing a little jingling bell, for the old lady wanted to be sure that the cat had lots to eat, but that he would never get a bird.

“That was why she had him wear the collar with the little bell. The bell warned the birds he was coming, so they could get away. He could be heard coming along by the sound of the tingling bell.

“But this time, when the old lady went into the village the cat was sleepy and sat on the porch in the sunshine.

“‘Will you come, pussy?’ she asked. But the pussy blinked his eyes as though to say, ‘I am sleepy.’ So she went off.

“When she came back she found to her horror that the cottage had been burned down. Some one had left a match lighted in the woods, and a fire had started which had spread. But even though the house had burned down the cat sat in front of where the house should be trying to say, ‘I am sorry, but at least I am here to welcome you.’ And the old lady hugged her cat and said:

“‘You are always glad to welcome me, and with you here I do not feel so badly about the house.’

“But,” said the Fairy Queen, “I used my magic wand, and in three minutes and four seconds and two quarter-seconds the house was up again—and the old lady had both her home and her cat.”

“That was a real fairy tale,” the fairies and their friends all said.

“It was indeed,” said the Fairy Queen. “It was about make-believe characters for a make-believe story, but that makes it a real Fairy Tale, eh?” And then they all enjoyed the Fairy Queen’s fine banquet.

AUGUST 15: A Hospital Circus

“The circus was in the city,” said daddy, “and every day the circus people and the animals had performed for thousands and thousands of children and many, many grown-ups. ‘You know,’ said one of the clowns, ‘that I think it would be a good idea some morning when we haven’t any performance and no parade and no practice performance, if a good many of us went to one of the hospital yards and performed for the children who can’t get out and see us.’ And they did! Every little child was either in a balcony bed or in a wheeled chair when through the big doors of the large hospital yard there came a parade—a real circus parade.

“And then the circus band struck up a fine tune and the clowns marched about and made jokes and giggled—oh, how they did laugh! And the children all laughed too and clapped their hands. The lady walked the tight-rope with a parasol over her head, ponies ran around the yard, and there were some trapezes for those who swung and hung by their knees and their feet.

“The elephants did their act too—and the children fed them peanuts!

“But happier than any child, happier than any of the circus people who had come to make the sick children happy, was the merry, jolly old clown who had thought it all up!”

AUGUST 16: The Fire

“Quack, quack, quack, help, help, help,” shrieked and cackled more than one hundred thousand ducks at the same time.

“Quack, quack, help, help, help,” they kept on cackling.

“There must be some trouble over at the duck farm,” said a man who was a fireman and who was sitting outside the firehouse in a town some distance away when he heard this quacking. He told another fireman that there surely must be some trouble at the duck farm.

“I think,” said the fireman, “I will get out my spy-glass and see what I can make out.”

For the quacking kept up and still it sounded very queer to the firemen.

“Don’t you suppose,” said the second fireman, “that one of the ducks has been hurt and the others are quacking in sympathy?”

“I don’t believe,” said the first fireman, “that one hundred thousand ducks would be so sympathetic at the same time. And they wouldn’t make so much noise. I fear something has happened over there.”

And he looked through his spy-glass in the direction of the duck farm.

“There. I see something like smoke,” he said. “Yes, I’m sure I see something like smoke.”

“Near the duck farm?” said the other fireman, getting up, and adding: “We’d better send out the alarm and get started.”

“It’s away from the farm that I see the smoke,” said the first fireman, “but maybe the ducks are afraid it will reach them. It’s one of those forest fires I think.”

So an alarm was sent out in the town and the firemen rushed to the firehouse and got on their fire-clothes as they hurried away on the fire-engine.

How the horses did run! Still the ducks were quacking. The horses galloped, the men held on, and the ones who guided the fire horses drove as they had never driven before.

“It’s a fire!” shouted the people on the farm. “A terrible forest fire! Oh, send for the firemen and the engines! Oh, send for help, help, help.” And they telephoned wildly to the town.

But just at that moment, when the people on the farm felt that help could not come in time to save them and the hundred thousand ducks, along dashed the fire-engines and the brave firemen drawn by the splendid horses.

They rushed past the duck farm to the forest fire which was coming steadily nearer.

“Come men, come people,” they shouted as they went by. And every one went rushing to help the firemen.

The dreadful forest fire was stopped just before it reached the duck farm, and the ducks cackled softly and happily, though still they were nervous from all they had been through: “We are safe, quack, quack, we are safe.”

“How did you ever get here before we telephoned?” asked the people on the farm.

“Your ducks sent us the alarm,” replied one of the firemen.

AUGUST 17: Friends of Animals

“Years and years and years ago,” said daddy, “there lived an emperor in India whose name was Asoka. He was the first man—in fact, the first person, I believe—to start a hospital for the cure of sick animals.

“He lived so many years ago that the way we know of much that was done in his time is by reading what the men who wrote histories have to tell us. Most of the good deeds which he did were written upon the rocks, ’way, ’way back, years and years and years ago. And upon these rocks were also written rules and directions for his people.

“Among many things which he did, in addition to building hospitals for animals, was to build hospitals for human beings and to see that they were looked after. He also had wells dug so people could drink when they were traveling through the country.

“He ordered the planting of trees so people could rest under their shade, and he spent all his time thinking how he could help others.

“But he was not the first person who tried to help others. He was the first one, though, to think of a hospital for animals and throughout the time he was emperor he saw that the hospitals for animals were kept in good condition.

“Animals with thorns in their feet were taken to the hospital. The horrid thorns would be taken out and soft, cooling liniment or ointment poured on and the animal would feel all right once more.

“Animals with sore throats, animals with colds, animals with broken bones and sprained ankles—all animals who needed attention and care were looked after in the hospitals founded by Asoka.

“If animals had written histories as well as human beings they would have written a great deal about Asoka and the wonderful things he did.

“But even though they could not write, for future people and future animals, of Asoka’s goodness, and even though they couldn’t thank him with words, they were grateful, as only animals can be grateful—very deeply, dumbly grateful.

“But the historians—the men who wrote about those times—speak of the goodness of Asoka and of how the people loved him.”

AUGUST 18: The Orangeade

“They talk about birds who go South for the winter and about butterflies and other little creatures who sleep all winter,” said the Orangeade, “but my family might just as well not exist in the winter time.”

“The same is true of me, too,” said the Lemonade as well as the Iced Tea.

“But at the same time your families do exist because there are lemons and oranges and tea all the year around,” said a little gnome. “And sometimes your families are about in warmer climates just as the birds are in warmer climates in the winter. But it isn’t strange that you aren’t wanted in the winter when it is cold, for no one wants a cool drink of orangeade or of lemonade and no one wants a glass of iced tea when there is a snow-storm and when the wind is blowing outside the windows.

“You can understand that, can’t you?” asked the gnome.

“Yes, I understand that now,” said the Orangeade, “and I don’t feel unhappy any more. Ah, here come the tennis players. We must be ready for them!”

AUGUST 19: The Climbing Perch

“I am going to tell you this evening,” said daddy, “about the Climbing Perch family before they came to the big aquarium.

“Far, far away in Africa they lived in a river, and were a very happy family. But one day the river seemed to be drying up so fast that they couldn’t find enough water to live in. They had noticed it getting worse and worse every day for some time, and they had been hoping for rain. But this day it was so bad that they knew something would have to be done.

“‘Well, even if the river dries up, it won’t bother us,’ said Granddaddy Climbing Perch, ‘not in the very least.’ And he gave a huge spatter-spatter with his tail.

“All the other fishes looked very much worried and their fins trembled with fear.

“‘Why, Granddaddy Climbing Perch,’ said the old Mother Climbing Perch, ‘do you want all the children to die?’

“‘I should say not,’ replied Granddaddy Climbing Perch angrily. ‘The very idea of your saying such a thing. I am surprised—yes, surprised, and very much annoyed.’ Granddaddy Climbing Perch’s fins wiggled with temper.

“‘I’m sorry,’ said old Mother Climbing Perch meekly, ‘but I didn’t just understand what you said such a thing for, and why you don’t seem to be worried that the river is drying up. You always used to love the children and tell them stories.’

“‘I do still love them, and I shall tell them a true story now of an adventure which will happen to us. Come around me, children!’ And Granddaddy Climbing Perch flopped his tail very hard.

“All the fishes swam over by Granddaddy Climbing Perch and looked at him out of their queer, shiny eyes.

“‘Now, children,’ he began, ‘years and years and years ago, our great, great, greatgrandfathers were caught just like this in a river which had dried up. They decided that the only thing for them to do was to try to make up their minds to die, when the Fairy Queen happened along.

“‘“I will name you the Climbing Perch,” she said, “and you will be able to go from pond to pond in the dry seasons. See if it is not so!” She waved her wand and disappeared—and sure enough all the family climbed out of the river—which was dry—and with their gills, which are like saws, they scrambled to the next pond, where there was water. We will do the same.’

“All the Climbing Perch family now knew the meaning of their family name, and off they started, led by Granddaddy Climbing Perch. They got to the next pond where there was water—but they hadn’t been there for more than a week when that pond dried up, too, and they had to be off again.

“Would you believe it—but they had to change ponds five times before they could stay and make a real home! And they are the ones I saw to-day. Of all the fishes in the Aquarium they are the proudest because they had had such traveled lives—and they are very happy. Then, too, after all their hard work, they are glad to be in a big tank which looks as if it would never go dry!”

AUGUST 20: The Onion’s Insult

“I have been insulted,” said the onion.

“Tell me what the insult was,” said the carrot.

“Some one was going to help the cook get the dinner—some one who knew little about cooking but less about how to fix vegetables, and this person said she would peel the onions.

“She began to peel me first as though I were a potato and then she kept on peeling until the cook suddenly noticed what she was doing and said:

“‘Stop peeling that poor onion. It’s all good to eat, and we will just cut it up in smaller pieces for frying.’

“Imagine,” said the onion, “to hear of any one so ignorant about onions. That was said before you were brought out, Mr. Carrot. I was insulted! To think of not being understood better than that. Oh, it is sad, it is insulting, not to be understood.”

“Cheer up,” said the carrot. “It is not an insult when a creature is ignorant. You should just feel sorry for ignorance, and feel proud and happy that you were saved in time so you could do your part when the great meeting takes place between you and Mr. Beefsteak to-night at the big dinner.”

“That’s so,” said the onion, “I will cheer up. It has made me feel better to talk to you. I don’t feel insulted any more.”

AUGUST 21: Harriet’s Monkey

“A little girl named Harriet,” said daddy, “was sitting on the front porch of her home one day when a hurdy-gurdy came along. An old man was wheeling the hurdy-gurdy and on top of it sat a monkey with a red jacket and red cap. His jacket had brass buttons on it, and on either side were two little pockets which jingled with pennies.

“Then the old man played a tune on his hurdy-gurdy and the monkey danced. He took off his cap and Harriet took out all the pennies in her purse—she had had seven—and gave them to the monkey.

“Into one pocket he put four pennies and into the other three. Then he took off his cap for more. But Harriet said: ‘I have no more pennies.’ The monkey did not seem to understand at first—but when Harriet shook her head and showed him her empty purse, he leaned his head on one side and pretended to cry. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and he put it to his eyes as if to wipe the tears away.

“But soon, when the old man played another tune, the monkey began to dance around and seemed quite as happy as before.

“And the old man played yet again. But by this time the monkey was tired, so what do you think he did?”

“What?” exclaimed the children.

“He saw that opposite where Harriet was sitting, there was a rocking-chair—just like Harriet’s. He gave a jump and up he got into the chair. Then twisting his tail around him, he began to rock and rock, back and forth, and how he did seem to enjoy it!

“As they were sitting there opposite each other—Harriet and the monkey—along came Harriet’s mother. She was surprised to see Harriet’s guest, and the monkey got right out of the chair and made a low bow. He began to do his tricks again, and he took the pennies Harriet’s mother gave him. He also wept when she didn’t give him any more!

“‘How’d you like to own a fine monkey like that?’ asked the old man.

“‘Oh mother, could I?’ asked Harriet.

“‘Well, he is a cunning little fellow,’ agreed her mother, ‘but what will daddy say?’

“‘Oh, daddy will think he is great fun,’ said Harriet quickly, for she saw that her mother was really thinking of letting her keep the monkey.

“‘Is he a nice, quiet monkey?’ asked her mother.

“‘Show how quiet you are,’ said the old man. And the monkey laid down as if he were sound asleep.

“‘I think we’ll keep him,’ said Harriet’s mother, and Harriet bounded up and down with joy. The monkey copied her and jumped up and down too, for he had taken a great liking to Harriet—and he made a polite bow to his former master, as he handed him some money from Harriet’s mother.”

AUGUST 22: Summer Corn

“Let me tell you,” said Grandfather Corn, “the ways of summer corn.”

All the ears of corn listened, which, of course, they could do quite perfectly, as they were all ears!

“I have grown very quickly. I am very big and full grown,” continued Grandfather Corn. “I wanted to be like this, for in every corn-field some one must give this word of advice to little ears of corn.”

“Advice, advice,” said the ears of corn. “We are going to hear advice.”

“That’s it, my bright little ears. I would say my bright little eyes if I could, but of course I can’t.”

“Too bad,” said the little ears. “But never mind, we are not without ears, even if we haven’t eyes and noses and chins.”

“Eyes, and noses and chins are very silly and quite useless,” said Grandfather Corn.

“Certainly for us at any rate,” said the little ears.

“But for the advice,” said Grandfather Corn.

“When it gets cold don’t let any one encourage you into growing. We will give the people our fine selves as long as the warm weather remains, but not when it is cold. We’re famous for being summer corn, and we will never let it be said of us that we were so coarse and hardened that we could stand the chilly days.” And the little ears nestled in their silken beds and said they would certainly not try to grow in the cold weather for they knew they would hate anything that wasn’t like summer warmth.

AUGUST 23: A Bee Story

“The worker bees,” said daddy, “carry little pollen baskets and they bring in the pollen to the young. They also bring in some sweetened water which the little ones like very much indeed.

“Now and again on a very hot day a number of bees will stand at the front door of their hive and will fan in some of the outside air so as to cool the ones who must be within the hive. They always see that the hive is kept very, very clean. Oh, how neat they are.

“They have to guard against their enemy, the wax moth, too. The wax moth is a tiny gray moth miller who likes to get into the hive and feed upon the combs and the pollen stored away in the honey-bees’ cells. If they are allowed there they will build tunnels through the combs and destroy them. The Italian bees, little gentle creatures, are fine about defending themselves, even doing better work than the usual honey-bees.

“The bees must go to many flowers in order to get all the honey that they need. They love clover, oh, how they love clover, which shows that they’re not in the least bit snobbish, for clover grows wild in the fields, of course.

“The bees love buckwheat fields, and from many, many flowers and a great deal of gathered nectar and pollen, they get the amount of honey they feel they need for themselves for the time being, and to store for the future.

“They always work, they hardly ever play. Always they are thinking of the day which may come when they won’t have such an easy time gathering honey, and though they may seem to have all they need they think it is well to be thrifty and to be ready for a rainy day.

“How the bees love the sweet things of life, the flowers, the honey, the warmth, the summertime.

“But though they love the sweet things of life, they are never through working. Right through their little lives they work. They work too hard. They don’t stop to enjoy their hard work as creatures should.

“Even when they have all the nourishment they need they go on searching for more for the storehouse. They do not flit about and enjoy life like the beautiful butterflies. No, they must always work. They’ve had no help from other creatures; they’ve never destroyed lives of other creatures in order to get food. Though they flit among all flowers they never become snobbish and love only the flowers which cost a lot to grow. They love clover, free clover, best of all.”

AUGUST 24: Allie Baa’s Portrait

“A little girl named Melly,” said daddy, “was having her portrait painted. The lady who was painting her portrait one day said to her:

“‘Now, you are such a good girl, and you keep so still while I am painting a lovely picture of you to give to your mother, that I wonder if there is anything you would like me to paint for you?’

“The little girl’s face was in smiles at once.

“‘Oh yes,’ she cried, ‘I’d like to have my dollie painted.’ And when Melly brought her doll the next time the lady said to herself, ‘I think I will change the picture of Melly and have her holding her doll, as she is now.’

“And how differently Melly looked! No longer was she the little girl sitting stiffly on a chair, looking now and again at the window and longing to be out with her friends. She was not being good because she thought she should, but because she was happy having Allie Baa with her.

“She looked like a real little girl, and the lady was delighted. For before she had seemed unlike a child. She had looked so sad.

“‘Yes,’ said the lady to herself, ‘I will certainly have Melly holding the doll.’

“And then she did a painting of Allie Baa, and it looked just like her. How delighted Melly was! She showed the picture of Allie to her—but of course Allie never even smiled. She looked at it just as she looked at everything else.