Part 8

“One little girl who had sneezed so hard and so much lost her voice for several days, for the sneezing powder got down in her throat, and her throat has never been quite so strong since.

“So I think we should all be used in our places and not too much of any of us, for if too much sugar is used things will be sickish and if too much pepper or salt is used the poor pepper and salt creatures are taken a mean advantage of!”

MARCH 22: A Sun Parlor for Birds

“There was once a grown-up lady,” said daddy, “who had loved the stories of the fairies and of birds and flowers when she had been a little girl. She had so loved to read of all the kind deeds of the fairies that she had made up her mind that when she grew up she would do something kind too.

“Well, this lady had the roof of her house made into a Sun Parlor. There were trees all round, and moss, and little pools of water which she had fixed to look as much like out-of-doors as possible. The Sun Parlor she had inclosed in glass. Of course the glass made the sun shine through all the brighter. And she had little wee doors so the birds could get in and out, but so small that a cat could never get into this bird home.

“But still more wonderful was a big cellar where all kinds of good apples, bread crumbs, more water and countless goodies were kept.”

“But how could the birds get from the roof to the cellar?” asked Jack.

“I don’t wonder you ask that,” said daddy. “The lady had all that part beautifully arranged. In the Sun Parlor were tunnels which led down into the cellar, and the birds used to love going through these dark passages into the ‘Goody-shop’ as it was called in Bird language—and it sounded the same to them as it would to you in Boy-and-Girl language.

“At first the birds were tempted into their winter home by the bread crumbs that were in the Sun Parlor. For, of course, as you can imagine, it took the birds some time to get used to a beautiful summer home in the winter that was really just for them. Soon, though, little birds know when people are being kind to them.

“Of course the lady let all the birds who wanted to come in have just as good a time and stay just as long as they wanted to. But she especially wanted little sick birds who had perhaps fallen out of their nests.

“One day the lady came across a baby Robin whose family had arrived before the warm weather. The baby Robin had fallen from its nest, and very gently the lady picked him up and took him to the Sun Parlor. The mother was crying near-by for she saw her baby being taken away from her and she couldn’t help at all.

“But she saw from the top of a tree where her little sick baby was taken. How happy and relieved she was—for, of course, she had to be in her nest with all the other little Robins. But she sang every day the most wonderful songs for the lady who watched over her baby Robin until it was quite strong and able to fly.”

MARCH 23: The Automobiles

“Honk-honk, it seems a pity,” said one automobile to the other. “I know I seem like the rudest sort of an old thing. I scare folks, and children just run when they see me coming. But it does seem a pity. Yes, it seems a shame that I can’t help it.

“One day I was resting. My owner had gone inside a building. I heard a little girl and an old lady talking. The little girl said, ‘I’ve been quite ill and my heart is just beginning to get strong. I have a horrible time crossing the street, for I simply cannot walk across. Those old automobiles make me run.’

“The old lady said to the little girl, ‘I know just how you feel, my dear, for I have been ill too, and I am not supposed to run fast. It hurts me when I run fast and yet I have to hurry to get out of the way of the automobiles.’

“‘I don’t see why they have to make people run, when they’re not going to fires and they’re not going after accidents,’ said the little girl. ‘It does not seem fair in the least.’

“‘It doesn’t,’ said the old lady. ‘But I don’t suppose the people who run automobiles are ever sick. They don’t know what it means to have a horn tooted at them when they feel they cannot run.

“‘And it seems a pity that folks should be in so much of a hurry, as they run along in their automobiles, that they can’t give those who are walking a fair chance, too.’

“Sometimes I wish I weren’t an automobile.”

“Sometimes I wish I were one with a different owner,” said the second automobile.

“Maybe we will be sold and nice people will own us, who will consider those who are walking,” said the first automobile.

“Let’s hope so,” said the second automobile.

“There’s the first star of the evening,” said the first automobile. “We’ll make a wish.”

So the modern automobiles wished in the old, old way, their wishes!

MARCH 24: The Trailing Arbutus

“We mustn’t waste any more time,” whispered one of the trailing arbutus family to another.

“No, we mustn’t. We must awaken for we are first to awaken every year. And all the families in this part get up soon.

“Years ago,” continued the second arbutus, “some children came here to look for trailing arbutus flowers. They said to each other:

“‘It must be too soon. There aren’t any.’ But they looked under some of our leaves and several of us were trying to peep out as fast as we could, so we would not disappoint the children.

“Many of our sisters and brothers were picked and I believe they came out later in water.

“But those same children have come back every year, and now they are almost grown-up. They always say,

“‘Here is the first place we find these lovely spring flowers.’ And so we know what is expected of us. Our roots always hand on this story to all the arbutus flowers.”

And now along came the grown-ups and some children.

“We hide our heads under the leaves because we’re shy, but we love children and the whole beautiful world, so pick lots of us, and we’ll be bright and gay,” softly whispered the flowers.

But the children only knew that the flowers were very, very fragrant, and oh, so very sweet!

MARCH 25: The Telephone Dog

“The telephone always seemed very important to Rogue, the collie,” said daddy. “He had known his mistress to rush out after the telephone had rung and she had answered it, as if some one were ill, or something had happened which she had found to be of very great importance.

“She was working in the garden one day when Rogue heard the telephone ring. Evidently she didn’t hear it, for she stayed out in the garden and didn’t come in to answer it. It rang and it rang, and Rogue didn’t know what to do.

“Finally he thought up a scheme, and this is what he did. He ran out in the garden and he stood before his mistress and barked and barked without stopping. First she stroked him and didn’t seem to think anything special was the matter, but that, perhaps, he wanted to play.

“He kept on barking, and after a few minutes she said: ‘What is the matter, Rogue?’

“He started to go towards the house, barking, and turned around to see if she were following him. When she didn’t he went and pulled at her skirt. Then she went into the house, following Rogue, and he stopped before the telephone which was still ringing.

“She answered it and found that it had been ringing a long time, but it was so important that they had kept on ringing to see if she wouldn’t hear it after a while.

“Then she knew that Rogue had let her know the telephone was ringing and wanted her to come to answer it, for that was something he couldn’t do. But he could let her know that it was ringing, now that he had found a way of doing so.

“And now Rogue always lets his mistress know when the telephone is ringing. She works in her garden a great deal but she never misses a telephone call because Rogue hears it, barks for her, and leads her in before the telephone.”

MARCH 26: The Kettle’s Trouble

“I’m not angry,” said the kettle. “I’m hurt. My poor porcelain feelings are most dreadfully hurt. A child tried to move me and in so doing she spilled some of the boiling water over herself.”

“I wasn’t quite boiling,” said the water; “very nearly boiling I was, though.”

“Don’t interrupt,” said the kettle. “You’ve caused me enough trouble. Well, the child got quite badly burned. It hurt awfully, for burns always do.”

“Yes,” said the butter, from the ice box in the corner of the kitchen, “she came to me to be comforted. Butter is excellent for burns.”

“But she blamed me for burning her,” said the kettle. “She said that ‘the horrid old kettle burned her,’ and it wasn’t I at all.”

But the water, fire, paper, sticks, coal and match each in turn quickly said they were not to blame but only the cook, for starting the fire in the first place!

MARCH 27: Mr. Measles’ Puzzle

“Go away, go away,” said Peter Goblin. “You mustn’t come around here. No, you mustn’t. I won’t have it, not for a moment will I have it.”

“May we talk to you, then?” asked Mr. Measles, as he hurried off.

“Yes, I will come and talk to you, but you mustn’t stay around here. Goblins don’t get measles, but children do, and I won’t have it. Hurry off. Hurry off.”

“Wouldn’t they like to have us?” asked Mr. Mumps. “Just think how we’d make their faces puff up and look so fine and fat.”

“Yes,” said Peter Goblin, crossly, “and make it hard for them to swallow. No sir, no sir, you get right away from here.”

“How about me?” asked Mrs. Croup.

“You go away, too,” said Peter Goblin.

“Can’t I have just one little look at a nice little boy or a nice little girl?” asked Master Chicken-Pox.

“You most certainly cannot,” said Peter Goblin.

“I don’t see why not,” said Mr. Measles crossly. He had come back a little because he had heard the others talking to Peter Goblin and he thought perhaps Peter had given in. Of course he had never known him to, but he might—one could never tell.

“I thought I’d told you to start off,” said Peter Goblin. “Now I won’t put up with any more of this nonsense. Be off—all of you. Be off, right away.”

“You promised to talk to us,” said Mr. Measles. “You will, won’t you?”

“But we’d rather have a little chat with a child first,” said Mr. Mumps.

“Maybe you would like to,” said Peter Goblin, “but you’re not going to. And so, one, two, three—go! Every one of you. I’ll follow along.”

“Now, what is the use,” Mr. Mumps muttered, “of being able to make some folks fat when one isn’t given the chance?”

“You don’t want to make them fat and well,” said Peter Goblin.

They had all wandered quite far away from the children and so Peter Goblin felt they were safe. He would get many of his goblins right to work to keep an eye on them, for goblins cannot get measles, mumps, chicken-pox or croup.

“Yes, I make them fat,” said Mr. Mumps. “I never bother about more than their cheeks. They grumble so after I’ve made them fat that I get disheartened.”

“Good thing you do,” said Peter Goblin. “You’re certainly mean enough.”

Mr. Mumps knew Peter was right, so didn’t say another word. Mr. Measles spoke next.

“We wanted to have you talk to us,” said Mr. Measles, “because we cannot understand you.”

“Why not?” asked Peter Goblin. “I try to protect the children from getting measles, mumps, chicken-pox and croup. Of course they have to help me by trying to keep as well and strong as they can so as to escape you. Whenever one of you gets past us, how badly we do feel. You often do, but we try our best to keep you out. We can’t keep you out entirely but we can help.

“And then good, kind doctors drive you away.”

“We hate doctors,” said Mr. Measles.

“Well,” said Mrs. Croup, “we shouldn’t hate them so much, because we give them a lot of trouble, and we love to give trouble.”

“That’s so, we do,” said Master Chicken-Pox.

“But,” said Mr. Measles, “people say, ‘oh, don’t catch the measles. And be careful not to catch the mumps. Don’t go near any one with chicken-pox or you might catch it.’”

“Now, to catch a thing,” continued Mr. Measles, “means to chase after it or try to get it in some way. If they don’t like us why do they talk about catching measles? They say ‘Be careful not to catch Mr. Mumps.’ It’s very silly, for if they really don’t like us, they should say, ‘Don’t let Mr. Mumps catch you.’”

“It’s rather an absurd expression,” admitted Peter Goblin, “but stay away from children and talk about it for a good long while. That’s what you must all do!”

MARCH 28: Winter’s Exit

“When we speak of a person making an exit,” said daddy, “we mean that the person has gone out, and so when we speak of the winter’s exit, we mean that the winter has made his departure. The winter was quite angry that Mr. Sun was so eager to see the spring.

“‘I’d think,’ said the winter, ‘you’d be a little scrap more polite, anyway. It always makes me so mad that I just hang around and hang around, and laugh when I hear folks say: “Isn’t the winter ever going?”’

“‘Are you going to make your last bow soon?’ asked Mr. Sun.

“‘To-morrow,’ said the winter. ‘Yes, by to-morrow I’ll really have to go. And after this last little snow-storm there’ll be no more until next year. Ah, what a sad thought that is to me, though it’s not such a sad thought for others. They seem to be so absurdly fond of young spring. They spoil him frightfully.’

“‘And you won’t really send any more blizzards?’ asked Mr. Sun.

“‘I can’t,’ said the winter, ‘because you would cross that old Equator.’

“Mr. Sun smiled and the winter said: ‘I’ll take a rest now and fool the people! They’ll think it’s really spring, and then I’ll give them my fine farewell to-morrow.’

“And sure enough on the morrow there was a light fall of snow. The spring hardly knew what to make of it at first, until he found it was so light a storm.

“‘That’s the winter’s bow as he makes his exit,’ said Mr. Sun to the spring.

“And the spring sent out the early Breezes and said: ‘Whisper to the birds, the buds, the children that I’ve really, really come, and that winter has made his exit!’”

MARCH 29: Another Biddle Story

“I must tell you another story about the gray cat, Biddle Birdsall,” said daddy. “His mistress Gertrude was away at school. His mistress’ mother and daddy were out, and the cook was out. It was a very sad household for a cat who wanted a drink of milk.

“Then he had an idea! He went into his master’s study and emptying the waste-paper basket in a pile on the floor, he pushed the waste-paper basket towards the pantry door.

“When he had finished pushing the basket and when it was right up by the door he turned it upside down and climbed upon it.

“‘There,’ thought Biddle, ‘now I have it.’

“And he had! He opened that door with his two front paws, turning the knob until it was undone and he could push the door open.

“Then he moved the basket away, opened the door wide, and purring delightedly to himself, he walked inside the pantry.

“There was the milk in the saucer, and then, as you can easily guess, Biddle had the milk which he wanted. When he was drinking it the family came home and saw Biddle and the waste-paper basket and saw just what he had done. And this is another true story of the cat, Biddle Birdsall,” ended daddy.

MARCH 30: The Squirrels’ Spring Work

“A little girl named Gwen had fixed a squirrel house on a pear tree near an old apple tree,” said daddy. “Now, the apple tree was near Gwen’s bedroom, and the squirrels could jump from the apple tree to her window-sill, where they were very likely to find nuts waiting for them.

“When the days began to get a little warmer Gwen hung just outside the window-sill a little hammock and waited to see if the squirrels would dare to swing in it. Having all the nuts Gwen put on her window-sill and seeing her do such kind things so often made them pretty tame. And, too, they appeared to realize that it was Gwen who had seen to the building of the little house.

“But the hammock seemed very strange to them at first. However, one very brave squirrel thought he’d try it and jumped into the hammock. Gwen was watching back of a curtain, and it was all she could do to keep from crying aloud with joy, for she was so pleased that one of the squirrels was actually using her little hammock. After a while the other squirrels tried it.

“Before long one of the old squirrels began to scold for all he was worth. Oh, he was very much annoyed, and all the squirrels stopped swinging in the hammock. They seemed to be paying great attention to the old squirrel, and Gwen wondered what it was all about.

“The old squirrel was the leader, and he was the one who always gave the directions and did all the managing. This, in squirrel language, was what he said:

“‘Now, don’t you know you can’t spend all your time idling! You are the laziest lot of squirrels I have ever known. Don’t you know that you must get to work? This is the season for us to tap the sirup from the maple trees, and you are spending your time swinging in a hammock. It is all very well to play, but then there is work to be done. We don’t want to waste our time and let all the good sap go, do we? And you really do want the maple sirup, don’t you?’

“Off they started to scamper to the nearest maple tree. Gwen put on her hat and coat and followed along to see what they were going to do. They got all the sap they wanted and smacked their lips over it. They enjoyed the work really, for it meant good times to follow, and they were glad the wise old squirrel had told them about it in plenty of time.”

MARCH 31: The Bunch of Keys

The keys were all talking in their jingling way. “I open a drawer in which birthday presents are locked up before the birthday has come,” said one of the keys. “I know so many secrets, all about presents and nice things for celebrations.”

“I open the cake tin,” said another key, “and there is going to be a birthday cake to-morrow all decorated with candles. There is going to be a party.”

“So I’ll be used too,” said the candy drawer key.

“And I will too,” said the birthday drawer key.

“And I will too,” said the key which opened the money box, “for some little treats will be bought.”

“We’ll jingle to-morrow, all right,” said the keys in chorus, “for we are going to open up secrets and pleasures and treats for a birthday celebration.”

And the keys all sang:

“If you’re a key, a key, You can see, can see, The opening of joys, For girls and for boys.”

APRIL 1: Marketing

“It is surprising,” said Mr. Robin, “how many creatures forget that they’re not the only ones who go marketing.

“Ladies go to the shops and they think they’re the only ones who see that their families are fed. But they’re not at all. Now, all of the robins go a-marketing. We are very good at it. And most of the gentlemen birds do the marketing when the mother birds are watching over the eggs and the little birdlings.”

“That is so,” agreed Mrs. Robin; “the dear father birds are splendid about looking after the food for the home when we’re busy guarding the nests and seeing that the eggs hatch out into dear little birdlings.

“And you always know where to get the best worms.”

“To be sure,” said Mr. Robin, “and that is what I meant when I said that though we did not go to the same markets as people we went marketing, too.

“What a horrible thing it would be if people did come to the lawns and began digging up all the worms! Gracious, the poor birds would have a dreadful time!

“But they don’t do that any more than we go to the grocery stores and tell the grocer to please do us up a package of potatoes and another of onions, and one more of meat which we’d order at the meat shop.

“It is fair the way things are divided up. In this way the lawns don’t run short of worms as they otherwise might do.”

APRIL 2: The Buds’ Secrets

“Some of the tree buds,” said daddy, “were talking about themselves softly. ‘We do so enjoy being liked,’ said the little bud which had grown the most. ‘We love to be encouraged—helped along.’

“‘But how can any one help a bud?’ asked a Fairy who happened along then.

“‘The Sun encourages us by shining and smiling at us. The South Wind whispers secrets to us and we are helped so much by the secrets—for the South Wind tells us such lovely things. And she promises us more sunshine, more warmth, more brightness. And then there are the Clouds and their promises. They tell us they will not forget about the April showers. They never have, and I don’t believe they ever will.’

“‘And,’ the bud continued, ‘it is so glorious to burst into bud and bloom again after a long winter when the branches of the tree are bare that we like to do it slowly and enjoy every second of it. Besides, the tree has been so used to being lonely that it would be too much of a shock if we came forth all at once. We just peep forth first of all and tell the tree that we are coming, for spring is here.’

“‘Ah, how young I feel,’ said a very little bud.

“‘We all feel so young, too,’ said the other buds.

“‘You are all wonderfully young,’ said the Fairy. ‘You are buds, wonderful spring buds, and you’ll soon be leaves!’

“The buds came forth a little more and smiled gently at the Fairy to show her how pleased they were at the kind things she was saying to them, and when they smiled a little more green showed.

“The grown-ups that day said, ‘How far the buds came out to-day. They’ll soon be leaves if they keep coming out at this rate.’

“But the little Fairy knew the secrets of the buds.”

APRIL 3: The Clock and the Watch

“Now when I say,” the watch began, “that I have to hurry and catch up—or rather try to catch up—I mean that my master has a foolish way of trying to hurry me up at the last moment. He waits and fusses and wastes his time, and then he wonders how he can reach somewhere on time—reaching there almost before he starts if he wants to be on time. Then I hurry and try to catch up to him as he seems in such a rush. And the trouble is I’m way ahead of the time he wants me to be. I try to keep up with his hurrying—for after he has wasted a great deal of time he does try to hurry. In fact he runs around all day trying to catch up with himself, and I run around with him. But it’s of no use. He tried putting me way ahead of time one day not long ago, but it was senseless when I disagreed with every other watch, and every one said to my master, ‘Your watch is fast.’ We watches must agree, you know, and so I just get nervous trying to catch up with the lost moments for my master, and the only thing, I think, for him to do is to expect less of me and to start off everything ON TIME!”

APRIL 4: Billie’s Springtime

“I’d like to tell my story,” said Billie to the Fairy Wondrous Secrets. “People are always wondering what babies think about and what they are planning to do when they grow up—if they are planning to do anything or not. They wonder so much about us, and so I’d like to tell my story. I don’t know about other babies. But I would like to tell about myself, if no one minds.”

“I’d like to hear,” said the Fairy Wondrous Secrets.

Now Billie was in a baby-carriage which was out on the front porch of a little house in the country. Billie’s mother was busy and so was Billie’s daddy, but Billie, they knew, was quite safe in the carriage on the porch where the soft spring air was blowing.

No one was around but the Fairy Wondrous Secrets and if any one had come around the Fairy Wondrous Secrets would have vanished quickly.

“I’m really a little girl,” Billie began, “though my name is something like a boy’s name, I believe. You see my great big daddy’s name is Bill and my mother wanted to name me after him. She couldn’t have my real name Billie, but she had every one call me that, so it’s my daytime every-day name, and my best, dress-up name is Mary Ann, or Marion or some such fine name after my mother.