Part 21

“‘You dear, precious dollie,’ said Melly, ‘you don’t care whether you have a painting of your dear old face or not. But it’s a great comfort to your mother.’

“The lady was so pleased at the picture of Melly, and she was proud of herself that she had thought of having Melly bring her doll.

“When Melly’s mother saw the painting she said: ‘Whatever made you think of having her hold Allie Baa? Why, that is just like my dear little girl—just the way we always see her. How glad I am.’ And the lady was happy, for she had made the real mother and the make-believe so pleased!”

AUGUST 25: Saving the Elm

“Yes, I was very, very ill,” said the elm tree. “I didn’t know whether I would ever get well or not. I had all sorts of things the matter with me. My wood was cracking and I was generally in bad shape.

“They talked about me, people did, and they said it would be a great pity to cut me down. They said I gave shade in the hot summer, they said I was very beautiful and they said I should be saved if possible. A lot of very clever tree doctors were sent for and they said that I could be saved. Oh, how happy that made me!” And Grandfather Elm swayed in the breeze and smiled.

“All the bad wood which had started in to hurt me was taken away. Then they fixed up the places where the old wood had been so it would keep in good condition in the future.

“I had steel straps put upon me in certain places to keep me from blowing over and fixed in such a way that I could sway and laugh and blow naturally with the rest of you.

“My, but when they said I was all right, how I did rejoice! I was so happy, so happy. For I am a well elm now!”

AUGUST 26: A Magic Lantern Show

There was a queer cry from outside the lighthouse—on the window ledge—and Teeny, the little daughter of the lighthouse keeper looked out. There, against the shutter was a sea gull and another was by him. The window ledge was very wide but they did not seem to be there from choice. Then Teeny remembered what a storm there had been the night before, and she thought that these sea gulls must have been hurt.

Teeny opened the window and took the sea gulls inside. They were very young and they had been hurt. They had not been hurt very badly, but they had been very much frightened.

All day Teeny looked after the sea gulls. They grew quite tame, and as if they knew that Teeny was a little girl of the sea.

It was late in the afternoon when Teeny remembered that she had planned to have a Magic Lantern show.

“This will be fine,” said Teeny to herself. “I have two of my audience. Usually I have to be audience and stage manager, too. Sometimes daddy and mother come, but they are busy at this time, and usually I am alone. Of course, I have lots of companions in the pictures that I show, and I leave them on the sheet which shows the pictures for a long time and talk to them.”

Teeny took a great cushion and she put the sea gulls upon it. “To-morrow you will be strong enough to be set free,” she told them. “I know you hate to be prisoners when you are used to flying over the great sea.”

The sea gulls paid no attention to the magic lantern show, which disappointed Teeny a little. But still, they did make an audience, and that was quite a treat!

AUGUST 27: The Baby Ear

“I am so afraid I won’t be eaten,” said the baby ear of corn as it rested on the kitchen table in a fine house where lived a mother and a father and several children.

“Cheer up, baby ear,” said the mother ear, “if you didn’t get the chance to grow into a big, full-sized ear of corn, at least you have been able to live in a wonderful silken home, and that is more than many folks and creatures can do.”

“What is it to live in clover?” asked the baby ear. “They say, out in the corn field, that some folks think it’s fine to live in clover.”

“To live in clover,” said the mother ear, “means just the same as to live in a silken bed. In fact it means anything that is nice. People may live in clover and not be near a clover field, because they may live so happily and in such comfortable, cheery, pleasant homes that it’s a perfect kind of life. Clover does not always need to mean clover. It may just mean happiness.

“Hark!” said the mother ear. They were being taken out of their silken homes.

“Look, children,” said the mother of the children, “at this tiny baby ear alongside of a big ear. That is a most unusual sight. We’ll let our youngest one eat this ear.” And the baby ear was delighted.

AUGUST 28: How Arthur Saved a Little Girl

“One day a lake schooner was making its daily trip,” said daddy. “A boy named Arthur had paddled in his canoe to the head of the lake and was coming back home on the boat, for that had just made a nice length paddle.

“The boat was crowded with passengers. Many of them knew Arthur, and many of them had been rather mean and had said that Arthur spent too much time on the water.

“Suddenly some one gave a cry:

“‘Somebody overboard! Oh, oh!’

“And then every one became very much excited and cried and screamed. Arthur had not seen the person go overboard, but he rushed to the end of the boat where all the people had hurried and saw in the water just going down a little child in a white dress.

“‘She has been under twice now,’ said some one.

“Arthur didn’t say a word, nor did he scream, but in one dive he was in the water and had grabbed hold of the little girl. They were soon hauled in.

“And the people who had thought Arthur spent too much time in the water looked on, ashamed that all they had done was to scream, while Arthur had gone in the water and had saved the child’s life.”

AUGUST 29: The Huckleberry Pickers

“To-day I passed by a house and heard some little children talking to some other children who looked very ragged, hot and tired,” said daddy.

“These children had been picking huckleberries and were going around this hot afternoon trying to sell them.

“They had stopped by this house where they had seen the little children playing. The mother of the little children had gone out for the afternoon, but they were having a party with a few of their little friends.

“They told the little poor children that they hadn’t any money at all to buy the berries with, but they asked them to stay and play with them and that they were sure when their mother came home she would buy all the berries.

“The children could not resist the temptation. They sat down and had some lemonade and sponge cake, and, oh, it did seem so good after the hot tramp they had made looking for the berries. After they had had all the lemonade and sponge cake that they could possibly eat they all went wading in a little brook back of the house. They did so enjoy the lovely, cool water, and when the mother came home, there she found her children entertaining the little poor children.

“Of course she bought every one of the huckleberries, which pleased the little children so much.

“But what pleased them still more was that the mother added that if they came that way very often she would like to buy huckleberries of them, for her family was so fond of them, and that there would be lemonade parties too.”

AUGUST 30: Mr. Sun’s Birthday

The children had seen old Mr. Sun on his way to bed. He had been as red as could be and very, very enormous. They wondered what Mr. Sun was up to, and were not surprised at all when daddy said:

“Mr. Sun had a birthday party this afternoon and the gnomes were invited. He told his guests to come just a little while before it was time for him to go to bed.

“‘Well,’ said Peter Gnome, ‘you don’t suppose we would come after you had gone to bed, do you?’

“‘Oh, no,’ said Mr. Sun as he grinned, ‘but the party must begin at just such a time and end at just such a time. I have my own special reasons, so come as I’ve said, won’t you, gnomes?’

“‘By all means,’ said the gnomes.

“And just a little while before Mr. Sun’s going to bed time, all the gnomes appeared on top of a high hill.

“Mr. Sun was shining brightly, but soon the gnomes noticed he began to get even brighter and brighter, and more red every second.

“‘You’re looking magnificent, Mr. Sun,’ the gnomes called out in admiration.

“‘So glad to hear you say that,’ said Mr. Sun, ‘for this is my birthday party!’

“‘Your birthday!’ they cried out in amazement. ‘Why, we never knew you had a birthday!’

“‘Oh, oh,’ said Mr. Sun, and he almost lost his fine color which he had been getting. ‘Dear me, O Mr. Purple Cloud,’ he called, ‘let me hide my head in your best shawl—these little gnomes never knew I had a birthday!’ And for a moment Mr. Sun was hidden by a purple cloud.

“‘But explain to us,’ said the gnomes. ‘We don’t want to hurt your feelings. We’re only too glad to be at your birthday party. We just didn’t know about it—that’s all. Won’t you tell us, Mr. Sun?’

“And Mr. Sun again came out from the purple cloud and said:

“‘Why, you see when I change into this bright red robe of mine—then it’s my birthday. Perfectly simple, isn’t it?

“‘And as for having more than one birthday a year—that is true. I have them whenever I feel like it—but usually I have one when I’m going to work very hard for the next day, to make folks fine and warm, and the things in the gardens grow. You see, when I’m feeling so strong and well I think I ought to celebrate, so I give a birthday party.

“‘Every one admires me when I wear this robe, and it’s just the same to me as if they were all saying that they wished me many happy returns of the day—for they all are hoping that I will wear the red robe again.’”

AUGUST 31: The Lost Dog

“You know I got lost,” said Collie. “It was a dreadful experience. I really didn’t know what to do. I had gone off for a trip and hadn’t realized how far I had gone. And you know I’m very young.

“Of course, I would have found my way home in the long run, I know that. But it was everything to be helped as I was!

“I found myself in another small town where there was a very fashionable Inn. An Inn is a fashionable boarding-house, I believe, and is like a smart hotel, only smaller. Now, in this Inn, they didn’t allow dogs.

“There were many elderly ladies there, and many of them were fussy.

“I came upon this place, and I was so tired. I thought to myself that the people might be friendly, and so I wagged my tail, although they didn’t look the friendly sort.

“None of them had spoken to me, or anything like that.

“But when I wagged my tail and looked at some of them politely, they said to each other:

“‘What a lovely dog.’

“I thought that they might help me, and so I wagged my tail again and gave a low, friendly bark, and one of the ladies said:

“‘That dog must be lost.’

“Very gently I walked up near her, so I wouldn’t frighten her, and I found that she wasn’t frightened.

“Then I put my head in her lap and she patted me. And one of the other women said to her:

“‘Why, I never saw you pat a dog before. How do you know that he won’t bite?’

“Of course that was enough to make me furious. As if dogs were all going to bite!

“But I kept my temper and the lady said:

“‘Oh, he is a beautiful dog and you can tell he is used to being petted. I am not afraid of him.’

“And then the lady called out the one who owned the Inn, and she asked to have me fed and a drink of water given to me.

“Then one of the very stylish and superior waiters brought me out a dainty meal and served me as though I were a fine paying guest, and called my meal ‘luncheon.’

“Then they telephoned about to the neighbors and others, and asked questions about any missing dogs that had been reported, and they found out I belonged to my master, and they helped me to come home.

“In fact, I should say they brought me home, and it would have been a hard job by myself. But, oh dogs! It’s good to be home!”

SEPTEMBER 1: The Whippoorwills

In the deep and dark woods, where there are many rocks, and where people seldom go, live the Whippoorwills.

The Whippoorwills guard their young if danger is near, but when they are little eggs they are not sheltered by a home-nest—the ground does well enough for them.

Perhaps Mother Whippoorwill thinks it is a mistake to begin by spoiling her children, but she is not a hard-hearted mother as this would seem to show. No, she is always ready to defend them from enemies.

Now, Mr. Whippoorwill is about the size of a robin, but he looks longer because he has great, long wings. He is covered with reddish-brown feathers, and sometimes grayish-white. He has a fine white collar and his quills are decorated with white. He has bristles all about his beak, which is very large.

Mrs. Whippoorwill is just about the same in looks, except she has a tan collar instead of a white one, and her tail is tan, too.

One night—for the whippoorwills love the night-time—a boy thought he would like to catch a whippoorwill and have him for a pet. He loved the wonderful song of the whippoorwill—which is a beautiful, rather sad note. The whippoorwills only sing when away from people, and they love to be by themselves. That is why they choose their homes where people will not come.

And he caught Mr. Whippoorwill. “Ah,” he said. “I will be very good to you. You may have a big place to fly about in, for I have made it with wire in the yard. And you will have a little home of your own. I will not keep you in a small cage. That would be cruel.”

The little boy hadn’t thought that it would be cruel to keep the whippoorwill in any way—the bird who loves solitude—or being alone.

Every night after this he listened to hear his whippoorwill sing, but never a sound did he make. Then he thought is was because Mr. Whippoorwill was without his mate, and after a long time he caught Mrs. Whippoorwill.

Now he would surely have the glorious Whippoorwill singing every evening, he thought.

But not a sound did he hear. In fact, they seemed to have forgotten their note—they had left it behind in the woods.

You see, the Whippoorwill will not sing in captivity. He is utterly miserable then, and he longs to be back where he can be alone and away from creatures. Then, at night, when it is quiet and dark, we can sometimes hear his glorious note.

The boy did not know what to make of it, but at last he let them go. Oh! The joy of spreading their wings toward the dark woods! How wonderful it was! And to see the Whippoorwill children! To feel the dark cool woods, to sleep all day, to work all night!

“Ah,” said Mr. Whippoorwill, when he was back in the woods, “I must see if I can find my note. I left it in the woods behind me.”

“So did I,” said Mrs. Whippoorwill. And to their great delight they found their notes again—they had just been quiet deep down in their throats, for they had left the woods, and their little bird hearts had been too sad for singing. The children joined in too. And the boy heard them all.

“They sing now,” he said. “They don’t like to be caught.” And how glad the Whippoorwills were that the boy understood.

SEPTEMBER 2: The Monkey

“A hurdy-gurdy, or hand organ,” said daddy, “came to town one day when it was very, very hot. No summer day had been so sultry. Down the village street the old man played tune after tune as he stopped in front of different shops and houses.

“A monkey was with him and the monkey took off his cap and put the pennies which were given to him into his cap and then into his little pocket of the red coat he wore. He was all in red and he looked rather hot and uncomfortable.

“The man would make the monkey do tricks and the people who watched gave the monkey money. Later on the man took the money. For what could the monkey do with pennies! He could not go out and buy food. No, he had to take just what was given to him. And sometimes he did not get quite enough.

“And yet the old man was always greeted with smiles. No one asked him if he was good to his monkey. No one said that he ought not to be making the monkey work on such a hot day.

“They all just watched! Lots of people who had not been able to do any work to speak of all day—so hot had it been—now watched the monkey work.

“Trick after trick he went through, and his little hand clutched the pennies that were given to him in a sort of way, as if he wanted to say:

“‘I must hold on to these. I have to work so hard for them.’

“The hurdy-gurdy played pieces in front of the different places until at last they stopped before a little gray house.

“‘We won’t stay here long,’ said the man to himself. ‘I don’t believe we will get many pennies here.’

“Out of a window appeared the head of a little boy. His name was Bobbie and he loved animals of all sorts.

“He smiled when he saw the cunning little monkey with the red hat and jacket and the tune of the hurdy-gurdy sounded so bright and jolly and full of fun.

“He hurried down the stairs and ran out of the front door. What joy on a horrid, hot day to have a hurdy-gurdy and monkey in the village! What a treat! What a very great treat! He had three pennies ready!

“The monkey began to do some tricks, urged on by the man who had seen the pennies shining from Bobbie’s hand.

“‘Show the little gentleman your fine tricks,’ said the man.

“Bobbie was feeling so happy when suddenly he noticed the face of the little monkey. Oh, how pleading were his eyes, and Bobbie put his hand underneath the red jacket. The body of the little monkey was so hot.

“‘Aren’t you ashamed!’ said Bobbie. ‘The very idea of making a monkey wear a hot suit on a day like this just because you think it looks fine!’

“The man pulled at the monkey’s chain. ‘Come along,’ he said. ‘We’ll not show this gentleman fine tricks.’

“‘I don’t want to see them,’ said Bobbie. ‘On a day when grown men don’t feel like work, to make a little dumb animal go through trick after trick to get you money! Aren’t you ashamed!’

“Somehow the man did not go away. He was so surprised at being talked to in such a way. He really did not know just what to make of it.

“‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Bobbie, who was half sobbing now with anger. ‘I’ll give you all the pennies from my bank. I have 63 pennies in all. Only, promise me to take off the monkey’s red hat and jacket and give him a rest to-day and other hot days? To think of a man making money out of a little monkey when it’s so hot his little back is burning and his eyes are begging to be allowed rest and a cool place!’

“‘I’ll promise you,’ said the man, as he took off the monkey’s jacket and cap. ‘But I won’t take your 63 cents. You and my monkey have made me ashamed. I’m ashamed enough—I don’t want the 63 cents.’ But Bobbie did give the man and the monkey a nice, cool drink.”

SEPTEMBER 3: Paper Dolls

“A little girl named Milly,” said daddy, “was very fond of paper dolls. Now one day when she had had three of her dolls a year she thought she would give them a birthday party and her mother told her to start off at once to ask her friends.

“‘You must bring your paper dolls too, and all their clothes, so we can pretend they are going to lots of things,’ said Milly as she went to the houses of her friends. ‘Bring them first dressed in their best as my dollies are dressed up now waiting for them.’

“And Milly told them to come in one hour. In just that time they arrived and brought with them their boxes of paper dolls.

“‘Come right along,’ said Milly. ‘The dolls are waiting for their party in the nursery.’

“‘We have brought them presents,’ said Milly’s little friends. ‘Our dolls are giving them birthday gifts of new paper shawls and hats which we have made.’

“Of course Milly was delighted, but the greatest surprise of all was when they entered the door of the nursery.

“There around the neck of each paper doll was a pink piece of crinkly paper which reached out to the little table. In the center of this was a pink and white birthday cake, with three candles—one for each paper doll!

“‘Oh mother!’ shouted Milly, ‘what a gorgeous surprise!’”

SEPTEMBER 4: Larry’s Labor Day

Larry was five years old and he loved holidays. But the coming holiday—it was not Larry’s. Nor had it anything to do with Larry. The thought of that bothered him. He wished somehow it could be different.

He had asked his father what Labor Day meant and his father had told him that it was a holiday set apart as a day of recognition of the laboring class. He had not quite understood what that meant but his father had explained that it meant a day set aside in honor of there being such a class as a laboring class, showing that to belong to the laboring class was something dignified and to be respected.

Larry knew then that it was useless for him to have a share in this holiday—a real, real share in it at least. This was different from Xmas and Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July.

But then a happy thought came to him. For the next few days Larry was very, very busy. Every one thought he was busily playing and making mud-pies and such, but not at all.

And on the morning of Labor Day they knew what Larry had been doing. He led his father and his mother and his grown-up sister and his fourteen-year-old brother to the very far corner of the garden which had always been set aside as Larry’s mud-pie playground.

There he showed them a tiny garden set out with paths and borders of pretty pebbles. Growing in the garden were ferns which Larry had transplanted from the woods and a tiny red geranium stood proudly in a little bed by itself. It had come from Larry’s nursery flower pot.

“You see,” he said, “I wanted to have a holiday to-day—I mean I wanted to have a right to the holiday, as daddy talked about laborers having, so I’ve labor-ed too.” It was rather a hard word to say but he managed it well.

“And now,” he turned to his family, “don’t you think I can have a little share in Labor Day too—a real little share?”

And his family said “Yes,” and I think you’ll agree with them too!

SEPTEMBER 5: In the Barnyard

“Quack, quack,” said Mrs. Duck, “these warm days do make me feel like swimming.”

“They don’t make me feel like swimming, grunt, grunt,” said Grandfather Porky Pig. “They make me feel like lying down in the mud and resting and dreaming sweet pig dreams.”

“What in the world are sweet pig dreams?” asked Mrs. Duck. “Yes, quack, quack, what in the world are they? I’ve never heard of sweet pig dreams though I have heard of sweet dreams.”

“Sweet pig dreams and sweet dreams are the same,” said Grandfather Porky Pig, “except that sweet pig dreams are the sweet dreams which a pig has. Do you see? I dream of being given too much to eat for I’m never given enough to satisfy my pig heart, and so I always pick up some more myself.”

“I wouldn’t speak of my pig heart, if I were you, quack, quack,” said Mrs. Duck. “I’d speak of my pig tummy.”

“Oh, very well,” said Grandfather Porky, “I do not object. But I must be off for my rest as I want to feel fit for my next meal.”

“Don’t you always feel fit for your meals?” asked Mrs. Duck.

“Always,” said Grandfather Porky, “but I like to talk that way. It amuses me,” he ended with a laughing squeal and a twist to his tail.

SEPTEMBER 6: The Animals’ Talk

“Of course it is true we do not speak the language people speak. We have our own way of talking, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t talk,” said Larry, the monkey.

“It is just as absurd, I think, for people to say that of animals as it would be for the animals to tell American people that they can’t talk because they don’t speak like all the other people in the world, or to tell the French people that they can’t talk because there are people who speak quite differently from them.

“When we are unhappy we make certain sounds and words of our own.

“When we are frightened we have other sounds to make. When we are pleased we have still others. When we are playing we have others again.

“And so have all the animals. The Bears have different kinds of growls for different things they mean to say.

“The Deer can talk, oh so well!