Part 7

“‘Yes,’ said the old woman. ‘When the spring comes I take a walk each day, carrying with me a pot of daffodils. When I see some one sitting in the window of a house looking sick and longing to go out I just go right in and leave my pot of daffodils, for they are better than any spring tonic, to my mind.’

“And the yellow flowers smiled at Laura and bobbed their pretty heads, saying, ‘We’ll make you well.’

“And, sure enough, they really did more toward making Laura well than anything else. How could she help but feel better with the bright flowers smiling at her and cheering her up?”

MARCH 10: The Tick-Tock Twins

“Hello, twin Tock,” said Tick, and Tock answered, just as quickly as anything:

“Hello, Tick.”

They never got tired of saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock.” They were the two clock twins, as you may have guessed, but sometimes between their words to each other, sometimes between saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock,” they talked.

Of course they would only say a few words at a time and those would be said so very quickly we could not understand them, and anyway Tick and Tock only talk for each other.

They just speak to each other all day long, as the time goes on.

And they don’t stop at night, but as it would be very hard to understand their story without leaving out all the ticks and the tocks we will hear it with those left out.

Really it was like this.

“Hello, Tick.”

“Hello, Tock,” and the “Hello” would be said very quickly so no one else could hear it.

“Nice-Tick.”

“Nice-Tock.”

“Day-Tick.”

“Day-Tock,” and so on and on, never forgetting the tick and the tock.

“We’re such happy twins,” said Tick.

“Yes,” said Tock, “and we never forsake each other. If one of us can’t go on, the other won’t go alone. There is never a tick without a tock following right on behind.”

“Ah, you’re so loyal, Tock,” said Tick.

“And so are you,” said Tock.

“There are many clock twins,” said Tick.

“Many,” agreed Tock.

“Every clock has us,” said Tick.

“Every one,” said Tock.

“And if the clock stops, they stop too.”

“Of course,” said Tock.

“One would never go without the other,” said Tick.

“Of course not,” said Tock.

“It’s nice,” said Tick, “to be so loyal, very nice and very unusual. Think of how we can always wait for the other, and then follow after!”

“We’re each always following the other,” said Tock.

“I’m glad,” said Tick, “I’m not a boy and you’re not a girl. Then when we grew up we’d be sent to different schools, and one of us would go into business and the other might marry and keep house. Dear me, it’s much nicer to be the clock twins. We’ll never be separated.”

MARCH 11: The Fig

“I’m mad,” said the Fig.

“What are you mad about?” asked the Apple.

The Fig and the Apple were in the fruit dish together, along with an orange or two and a bunch of grapes.

“What are you mad about?” the rest of the fruit asked.

“Yes, you’d better tell us,” said the Apple. “I’m sure it will make you feel much, much better.”

“I don’t know whether it will or not,” said the Fig.

“Why don’t you think it will?” asked the Apple.

“Because it might make me cry, and some one might call me a cry baby.”

“My dear Fig,” said the Apple, “no one could ever call you a cry baby, because even if you cried you’re not a baby.”

“But I’ve heard big boys and big girls called cry babies, and they weren’t babies,” said the Fig.

“All very true,” said the Apple, “but they behaved as babies and once they had been babies. That is, each one of them had once been a baby. It would have been impossible for them to have been more than one baby I suppose.”

“We suppose so, too,” said the rest of the fruit, as it moved in the fruit dish a little.

“And,” continued the Apple, “they were behaving as though they hadn’t grown up into boys and girls by crying over some silly little thing.

“You see, Fig, you have never been a baby. You have been a little fig, but never a little baby. So you couldn’t be a cry baby, though you might be a cry fig, or a cry little fig. I’m not sure about that.”

“That wouldn’t sound so badly,” said the Fig. “I will have to tell you what has made me mad, and what may make me cry at any moment.”

“Tell us,” said the Apple.

“Imagine,” said the Fig, “I heard people speak of a person they knew was mean and horrid and unfair and all that was dreadful as not being worth a fig. Oh, that was cruel, cruel.”

“I am so glad you told the story,” said the Apple, “for you are being unhappy for no reason at all. When any one says that a person isn’t worth thinking about and he wouldn’t give a fig for that person, it doesn’t mean an insult to the family of figs, but is simply an expression people have used for a long, long time.” And the Fig was happy again.

But the Fig was more delighted when a lovely child came by the fruit dish and taking the Fig said, “I simply love figs.”

MARCH 12: Happy Compton

“In the first place,” said Happy Compton, “I’m a dog. I’m not any special breed. I’m not what is known as a thoroughbred, but they say I’m brighter than a great many thoroughbreds. I’m glad they think I’m bright, and that they like me.

“I was a little waif dog first of all. Louise and Ada had been promised a dog. Their daddy had told them that the first chance he had he would go and buy them a dog. Then I came along, a lonely, homeless little waif dog.

“They took me in and fed me and loved me and made me warm and happy.

“When their daddy asked them about the dog he was to buy for them Louise said:

“‘Such dogs as those, in kennels, which are for sale, will get homes, for they will be in good condition, but this is a homeless little dog and I’d rather have him. He will be happy here and he will be loved here. No one could love him more than I do.’

“‘Except the way I love him,’ said Ada, and to prove how much she loved me she put me down by her on the pillow and covered me up and then Louise stroked my head and I went off into the dreamland of dogs.

“They both loved me so right away and they still love me so, and I know how much they always will love me.

“Because they could see how happy I was to be no longer homeless and miserable they called me Happy. It’s such a nice name, and they have given me their last name, too—Happy Compton. Isn’t that fine?”

MARCH 13: Ice Box and Furnace

Now the furnace and the ice box were both in a big cellar. The ice box was some distance away from the furnace, but still they were in the same cellar. The ice box was near a door, which was by some steps. These steps led up to the kitchen of the house and every one came down to the ice box to get out the food which was going to be used and the milk and all such things which belong in an ice box.

Of course, half of the year the furnace wasn’t doing anything, and in the winter time the ice box did not have nearly so much ice given to it.

“I feel sorry for you,” said the furnace. “Here you are so cold and you haven’t even enough warmth about you to make the ice melt quickly as it does in the summer time.

“You have to be so cold always; even in the winter you have to be cold. That is the saddest of all. In the summer I’m not so hot myself but as soon as a cold day comes I am ready to be warm.”

“Ah, furnace, you mustn’t boast too much,” said the ice box. “I’ve heard the family having great trouble with you. There are days, sometimes the cold, cold ones, too, when you won’t burn. I’ve even known you to go out sometimes.

“And oh, how you have made the family shiver. You have made them fuss over you.”

“And why shouldn’t they fuss over me?” asked the furnace. “I’m the furnace, I am; the great and warm and powerful furnace. I keep the whole house warm. I keep all the people in it warm.”

“But you don’t keep them warm when you go out and when you go slowly and when you won’t burn nicely,” said the ice box.

“That is to show that I won’t let any one think I’m so unimportant that I don’t have to be noticed and fussed over.”

“It shows that sometimes you are very mean, furnace. Important and great and wise and clever creatures don’t have to be fussed over. They’re above it.”

“Look here, young ice box,” said the furnace, “I don’t want any rules from you. You are a fine thing to talk about a creature keeping warm. What warmth do you ever give to any one, I’d like to know?”

“You’re right, furnace, I don’t give any warmth. But I am not supposed to, and you are. I am supposed to keep the ice and to make folks cool in the hot summer and make the food keep nice and fresh and cool. I do my work, I do. And you should do yours, you should.”

“I do it all right, never fear,” said the furnace, though it knew that many a time it had behaved badly. But now it was mad and it went for all it was worth and the ice box chuckled and said to itself, “The poor people have been saying how cold they were and how badly the furnace was behaving. Now the furnace is mad and will behave by burning and raging for all it is worth.”

And the furnace burned angrily and furiously and how nice and warm the people kept on that cold winter’s day!

MARCH 14: The Pet Dogs

“There were five dogs,” said daddy, “who belonged to a boy who was named Jack.

“Brutus was the largest of all. He was a big Newfoundland dog. Next came Bogi, another Newfoundland dog, but not so large as Brutus.

“Third came Patty, an Irish terrier. Then came Ouji, a cocker spaniel, and last came Susy, a little fox terrier. When they all stood together they looked like a flight of stairs, and just as though one could walk from Susy right up to Brutus.

“‘Ah,’ said Patty, ‘I see something coming my way.’

“All the other dogs looked and Patty said, ‘There is a bug and I’m going to catch it.’

“But the bug said to itself, ‘I’ll play a joke on that dog.’ And the bug did play a joke, a very mean joke.

“Patty snapped at the bug and then was about to swallow it when she had gotten the bug on her tongue, when what should that mean bug do but turn itself over so that it attached itself to Patty’s tongue, and so Patty couldn’t swallow it or eat it or anything!

“Then Brutus had a fine idea. He ran for Jack, for he had seen Jack go to a near-by field to play baseball.

“He ran just as hard as he could and when he reached the field he didn’t even notice the baseball which had just been hit with the bat.

“The boys were awfully frightened for a moment as they thought Brutus might get hit by accident with the hard ball, and they called out to him, but Brutus wasn’t thinking of being afraid of anything.

“But luckily the ball didn’t hit Brutus, and Brutus went right on up to his master, barking, and showing by his eyes that he wanted to have Jack follow him.

“‘I guess Brutus wants me for something,’ said Jack, ‘for he wouldn’t come to the baseball field if it weren’t for something important.’

“So Jack ran quickly home, following Brutus. There he found Patty with the bug on her tongue and feeling most uncomfortable.

“Jack quickly took the bug off and then Patty no longer looked sick and miserable.

“She jumped up on Jack and wagged her tail and her eyes looked very glad and happy as she tried to thank her master. And then she did quite the sweetest thing ever a dog did. She suddenly seemed to know that Brutus was the one who had done everything.

“Jack had come quickly when Brutus had called him, for Jack was always so good to his pets, and Jack had been able to take the bug off her tongue because he had nice useful hands.

“But Patty knew that it was Brutus who had gone for Jack, and Brutus who had brought him back so quickly.

“And Patty went over to Brutus, looking so small beside the great big Newfoundland dog and she licked Brutus’ paws and rolled over on the grass, saying to Brutus that she was a very grateful, happy, little dog.

“And then, for a special treat, every one of them had a bone, and Jack gave himself a piece of cake!” ended daddy.

MARCH 15: Biddle’s Trick

“Biddle the cat,” said daddy, “was very thirsty and he wanted to get a drink of milk.”

“‘Look,’ one of the family suddenly exclaimed. And from the study they could see a light in the pantry.

“When they went into the pantry there was Biddle on the pantry shelf and he had just pressed with his paw the electric light button—so the light had gone on!

“‘Do you want something, Biddle?’ one of the family asked, after they had all exclaimed at the wonderful thing which Biddle had just done.

“Biddle purred, and looked at the ice box, and they got some milk for him.

“But don’t you think it was clever of him to get the family into the pantry by turning on the light? This is a true story of Biddle Birdsall, the clever gray pussy-cat.”

MARCH 16: The Naughty Colds

Mr. and Mrs. Cold were having a very good time. Now, when most people have a good time it means that they’re playing or singing or laughing or dancing or reading or hearing music.

Perhaps it means they’re having a party of some sort, or perhaps it may mean they’re in swimming or having a picnic. Oh, there are lots and lots of ways of having good times as every one knows.

But when Mr. and Mrs. Cold have a good time it is something very different from what we mean by a good time. In the first place, Mr. and Mrs. Cold are very disagreeable people. They have always been disagreeable. Their daddy and mother were the same way, and as for Aunt Grippe and their Uncle Bronchitis—well, they’re horrid old creatures, I can tell you.

Mr. and Mrs. Cold have very mean children, too. There is Sadie Sneeze, for example. She has the worst sort of a disposition! She just loves to plague people and make them as uncomfortable as she can.

Then there is Charlie Cough. He likes to hurt creatures. You can just imagine how mean he is. And there is Susy Sore Throat, and Hatty Headache. They are all children of Mr. and Mrs. Cold.

“Let’s go on a trip,” they said to the children.

“All right,” said the children. They always agree to go a-traveling, and the worst thing about them is that they have many cousins and relations, and their cousins and relations are just as busy a-traveling as they are!

“I think,” said Mrs. Cold, “we’ll go and call on a little girl named Annette. She is such a nice little girl, I’d like to make her feel uncomfortable. Let’s give her a good dose of us.”

And the Cold children clapped their hands.

“Is she nice?” they said. And when their mother and daddy said:

“Oh, she is wonderfully nice,” they were just overjoyed. That is how mean they are. They love to be horrid to nice, nice boys and girls and grown-ups!

So they picked up their suitcases with plenty of Sadie Sneeze’s best frocks, and plenty of Charlie Cough’s extra neckties, and lots of Hatty Headache’s hair ribbons and Susy Sore Throat’s collars and off they went. Their hair ribbons and collars and dresses aren’t like nice children’s, for they are mean like themselves!

“Oh, please,” said Annette, when they all arrived, “I didn’t ask you to come and see me. I don’t need you. I have a nice daddy and a nice mother all of my own. I don’t want Mr. and Mrs. Cold, and I have two nice brothers, and I don’t want any others, or even any sisters. Please go away.”

But the Cold family paid no attention. They were so mean they liked being where they weren’t wanted.

But the time passed and the dream king found out that Annette had some horrid visitors. The dream king hurried to tell the fairy queen about it.

“Did you ever hear of such rudeness and such unkindness as that horrible Cold family show?” he said.

“We’ll put a stop to this, Dream King,” said the fairy queen. “Thank you for telling me. I know that little girl Annette. Yes, I know her well. She has golden hair and fair skin and blue eyes. And she lives in a city house. Ah, yes, I know her. Just like that horrid Cold family to go and bother some one who is nice!”

The fairy queen set to work. She called together all her assistants and they hurried to Annette’s house when she was fast asleep.

They gave the Cold family a good talking to and they waved their wands over Annette so that the Cold family were driven away.

And in the meantime the old dream king had told the dream fairies about Annette and they made up the most wonderful package of dreams, lovely dreams sent to her as she was getting all, all well again. But the dream king himself made up this poem for her:

“Annette is so nice, Annette is so sweet, Just Annette herself is a great big treat!”

MARCH 17: Why the Shamrock is Worn on St. Patrick’s Day

“It is said,” daddy told the children, “that the shamrock keeps away the snakes which St. Patrick drove out of Ireland, for they cannot live and thrive where the shamrock grows.

“But there is a legend about St. Patrick which I think I’ll have to tell you to-night.

“What are said to be St. Patrick’s footprints can be seen on the rocks off the shore by the Skerries harbor. The story goes that once a chieftain named Dichu drew his sword to strike St. Patrick. When he was about to do this cruel deed his own arm became perfectly stiff until he said he’d be obedient to St. Patrick. Then St. Patrick taught him to be good and kind.

“Still another interesting story is that of the idol worshipers. St. Patrick went into the place where these people were and found them worshiping the idols. There was a huge pillar of stone with the chief idol on top of it. It was covered with slabs of gold and silver, and around it in a circle were twelve other idols. St. Patrick smote the chief idol with his crozier and the idol crumbled to dust at once.”

MARCH 18: St. Patrick

“Daddy, do tell us this evening more about St. Patrick,” asked Jack and Evelyn.

“He was born in 372,” said daddy. “When he was only sixteen years old he was stolen by pirates. They did not treat him at all well, and he was sold by them into slavery in Ireland.

“His master had him look after pigs in the mountains. But Patrick had a strange dream in which the Lord told him to run away and set out for a far-away country. He had been seven years in Ireland, so he was used to its language and all its customs and manners. After a time he was ordained a deacon, then a priest, and finally he became a bishop. At this point the pope told him to return to Ireland to preach the gospel to the Irish people. Since then he has always been known as St. Patrick. One story is that on a bitter cold morning St. Patrick and a number of his followers found they could not possibly build a fire. They had had no breakfast and were half frozen. St. Patrick listened to their complaints for a while, and then he told them to gather up the snow in a pile. This they did. St. Patrick breathed on it, and it became a fire.

“Another tale is that St. Patrick beat the drum so loudly when driving the snakes out of Ireland that he knocked a hole in it, but that an angel appeared and mended it, so that the drum was afterward kept as a relic.

“It is told that in one part of Ireland from which St. Patrick drove the snakes and toads he chained one huge serpent by a lake called in Irish Lough Dilveen and told him to stay until Monday. The people around the district still claim that every Monday they hear the serpent calling out in the Irish dialect, ‘It’s a long Monday, St. Patrick!’

“St. Patrick is said to have died on the 17th of March, 493, aged 121. His grave is at Dunpatrick, Ireland, and a tombstone now bears his name cut in Irish characters.”

MARCH 19: The Clocks

“I think I shall tell you the story of the talking that went on one day in a clock shop when the old clock mender had gone to his lunch,” said daddy.

“‘My master is so lazy!’ said the Eight-Day Clock. ‘He keeps saying: “Oh, dear, I must wind up that Clock.” And then he grabs a newspaper and sits down and reads. He quite forgets about me. He should wind me up when it is time. Gracious, I strike so he can tell I need to be wound up. But he doesn’t pay much attention. He just winds me up after I have had to stop for days. And such a fine Clock as I am, too.’

“‘You may be a fine Clock,’ said the little Watch with the broken mainspring, ‘but I don’t see as it does you any good. You are always being brought here.’

“‘I can’t help it,’ said the Eight-Day Clock. ‘You see, I get so upset over not being wound up and I get so tired and worried wondering if my master will remember, that I get feeling run down. Then I weep a Clock’s tears, which only we Clocks and Watches know about. We feel so badly when we are not treated right. And then when we feel badly it upsets our works and we have to be brought to the clock mender’s shop. But I wish we could teach our masters a lesson,’ said the Eight-Day Clock.

“‘We will,’ said the Cuckoo Clock.

“‘What will we do?’ asked the rest.

“‘We will be so hard to mend,’ said the Cuckoo Clock, ‘that we will make the clock mender charge great big prices. And then our masters will look after us.’ And all the Clocks at once looked happier.”

MARCH 20: A Party and Polly

“Polly want a cracker, ha, ha,” laughed the parrot.

“No, Polly doesn’t want a cracker, ha, ha,” the parrot continued. “For there is no one in the room to give me a cracker, and I’ve eaten up the one I had in my cage. I have some seed and some water, but not a trace of a cracker.”

Polly, the parrot, stepped out of her cage and looked about the room. She flew this way and that, and she had a good-sized room in which to fly—a room with very high ceilings.

“Polly doesn’t see a cracker,” she said to herself. She couldn’t talk to any one else, you see, because there was no one else in the room. And she knew perfectly well that the pictures on the walls and the rugs on the floor didn’t care about being talked to. She had never heard them say anything or fly about or walk about—and she knew very well why they couldn’t.

Because they weren’t live things. They weren’t people, nor were they animals, nor birds. They were nothing but rugs and pictures and extremely, extremely silly.

She hadn’t been looking about long when her mistress came in all dressed up in a most beautiful manner.

“Well, Polly,” her mistress said, “we are having a party to-day.”

“Polly have a party, Polly have a party,” said the parrot.

And when the guests arrived Polly looked down from her perch and said: “Polly have a party, Polly have a party.” How every one did laugh and admire the nice, cheerful, friendly Polly Parrot. And her mistress was very proud of Polly!

MARCH 21: Salt, Pepper and Sugar

“Creatures and things aren’t to be admired who won’t take the trouble to go out of their way to do nice things,” said Sugar of the Sugar Bowl. “And as the Sugar Bowl can’t go walking around looking for nice things to do at least it can admire the Salt Cellar and the Pepper Shaker for the work they do in seasoning and making things have a good taste.”

“Ah, Sugar Bowl,” said the Salt Cellar, “I am glad to hear you talk this way. For some time I have been afraid that you didn’t have enough character. I was very much afraid that you were becoming too sugary and too weak!

“The Pepper Shaker would tell you, too, how much he thinks of you, but if he comes about too much he is apt to make people sneeze. He doesn’t like to do that. He can’t help it if too much of him is used, but he hates to be used like that. He likes to add to the taste of things, but not to be made out a cruel creature.

“Yes, he had a terrible blow once. He was treated so badly! It wasn’t fair to him at all.

“Some very mean boys and girls thought it would be fun to put sneezing powder in the flowers which they would give to their friends to smell. Then as their friends began to sneeze they would laugh.

“Well, a great deal of my Pepper friend was used then. He made those people sneeze and he didn’t want to in the least. Oh, he did feel so badly about it. It wasn’t funny, he said, it was mean, out and out mean! The people who sneezed were miserable. Their noses hurt, their throats hurt and they couldn’t sleep for several nights.