Part 17

After what seemed to her a long time, she came bump up against something hard. She did not know what it was, but she could have jumped for joy, if her clothes had not been so heavy to hear a voice suddenly call out in Dutch "What's that? Who has hit against my door? Ach! where in the world have you come from?" Then in a considerably milder tone: "Ach! the little one! and she is English. How did you get here, dear heart?"

"I--I--fell down the dike. I have--lost--everybody. Oh, how shall I ever get back to father?" answered Katharine in her very poor Dutch.

"But tell me, little one, where you came from--ach! so cold and wet!"

"I was spending the day with Marie and Gretel--and--Jan--and we were walking on the dike when the fog came on; then I fell, and could not find my way--"

"Gretel and Jan--could they be Juffrouw Van Dyne's children?"

"Yes, yes," eagerly; "that is where I was. Oh, _can_ you take me back, dear, dear juffrouw?"

"Yes, when the fog clears away, my child. I could not find the house now; it is more than two miles from here. Besides, you must put off these wet clothes; you will get your death of cold--poor lambkin."

At this Katharine's sobs broke forth afresh. It must be late in the evening now, she thought; her father would come to Marie's and would not be able to find her--

"No, dear child, it is only four o'clock in the afternoon. The fog may clear away very soon, and then I will take you back."

Quickly the wet garments were taken off and hung about the stove. Katharine presently found herself wrapped up in blankets in a great arm-chair in front of the fire, a cushion at her back and another under her feet, drinking some nice hot broth, and feeling so warm and comfortable that she fell fast asleep, and awoke two hours later to find the room quite light, the fog almost gone, the juffrouw sitting beside her knitting, and a comfortable-looking cat purring noisily at her feet.

"I think I have been asleep," she said.

"I think you have," said Dame Donk.

Just then a loud knock was heard at the door, a head was poked in, then another, and still another. The cottage was fast filling up. There stood, first of all, poor, pale, frightened Marie, holding a large bundle in her arms, Jan with another smaller one, Gretel carrying a pair of shoes, and one of the sisters, completely filling up the doorway with her ample proportions, last of all.

It appears that as soon as the fog had begun to clear, the good Dame Donk had despatched a boy from a neighboring cottage to let them know where Katharine was, and that her wardrobe would need replenishing.

The excitement on finding the child safe and sound may be better imagined than described. How she was kissed, cried, and laughed over, what questions were asked and not answered, as she was taken into an adjoining room and arrayed in a complete suit of Gretel's clothes, even to the klompen, for, alas! her French shoes were now in no condition to be worn, the pretty blue frock torn and stained and hopelessly wet, the hat with its dainty plume crushed and useless; indeed, every article she had worn looked only fit for the rag-bag.

Gretel was so much smaller than Katharine that the clothes were a very tight fit, the skirt which hung round Gretel's ankles reaching just below Katharine's knees, and it was a funny little figure that stepped back into the room--no longer a fashionably dressed New York maiden, but a golden-haired child of Holland, even to the blue eyes, sparkling now with fun and merriment.

"But didn't you bring a cap for me, Marie?" she asked in a grieved tone.

"Ah, no, deary; I never thought of a cap."

"Well, you must put one on me the minute we get back."

"Oh, what will father say?" she cried delightedly, as she surveyed herself in the little mirror.

This sobered Marie at once. What would "father" say, indeed? Would he not have a right to be very angry with her, that she had allowed the child to get into such danger?

* * *

"Where is Katharine?" asked the colonel, as he stood, tall and commanding, on the threshold, later that evening, surveying eight small Hollanders, looking so much alike, except for the difference in their sizes, that they might have passed for eight Dutch dolls propped up in a row against the wall.

A sudden shriek of laughter, and one of the dolls was in his arms, smothering him with kisses. Then every one began to talk at once, as usual, and it was not until late the next evening, when he and Katharine were steaming out of Amsterdam, that the colonel was told the whole story and for the first time fully understood all that had happened to his little girl on that eventful day.

Meanwhile the new light in his daughter's eyes and the laughter on her lips kept him from any desire to inquire too deeply into the reason for a certain embarrassed frightened look on the faces of the women.

Before leaving Amsterdam the colonel was obliged to purchase a complete suit of Dutch garments for Katharine as a memento of this visit, and "because they are so pretty, father," she said, and "oh, father, I just love Holland! As for those Dutch children, I think they are simply the dearest, sweetest things I ever saw, and I have promised to write to Gretel as soon as ever I get to Paris."

THE JINGLE OF THE LITTLE JAP

BY ISABEL ECCLESTON MACKAY

There lives in a town that is called Chu-Bo A little Jap girl named Nami-Ko. She learns to spell and she learns to write, But her A B C's are the _oddest_ sight!

For _this_ is the way that the letters look In her neat little, queer little copy-book:

This little Jap girl has shoes most neat To put on her tiny Japanese feet, But O! They are _queer_--such heels, such toes! You'd think she would fall on her little Jap nose!

And _these_ are the shoes--beware of mishap If you wear what belongs to a queer little Jap!

When this little Jap girl goes out to call She wears no hat--but a parasol! And her little Jap mother wears one too-- In fact it's the way that the Japs all do.

And _this_ is the curious parasol Which the little Jap girl wears out to call:

This little Jap girl, when she goes to bed, Has no soft pillow beneath her head, For little Jap girls have to take great care Of their smooth little, black little Japanese hair!

And _this_ is the pillow! Imagine, chicks, A pillow like this--and as hard as bricks!

THE SEVENTH BIRTHDAY OF THE LITTLE COUSIN FROM CONSTANTINOPLE

BY EMMA C. DOWD

The Little Cousin from Constantinople was to have been given a party on her seventh birthday; but, just before the invitations were written, Mumps came uninvited, and, of course, there could be no other guests while Mumps stayed.

The Little Cousin could not help feeling just a little tearful on her birthday morning, for Mumps, as nearly everybody knows, is a painful, disagreeable visitor. She did not cry when anybody was near--oh, no, indeed! She even tried to smile; but she found smiling very difficult with a poultice on each side of her face, and she had to give it up. The Merry Mother understood, however, and told her she was a dear, brave little girl, and strove to comfort her just as the dear absent Mother in Constantinople would have comforted her if she had been there.

Before the Merry Mother left her the Little Cousin felt almost happy, sitting up among her soft pillows, and wearing her new, pink, birthday sacque, with its pretty ribbons.

"I am sorry I must be away all the morning," the Merry Mother said; "but I hope your pleasant company will keep you from missing me. I am going to shut your door for a minute, and when it opens you can pull in your visitors as fast as you please." She laughed to see the Little Cousin's astonished face, for the doctor had said that the children must not come in to see her as long as Mumps stayed. Then the door closed.

There was a slight commotion outside. The Little Cousin listened eagerly. What could it mean? Hushed voices, bits of laughter, the sliding of something over the polished floor, scurrying footsteps here and there--the Little Cousin heard it all, and waited breathlessly.

At last the feet retreated, the door opened, and the Merry Mother's face appeared. Something attached to a string came flying toward the bed.

"Catch it!" she called.

The Little Cousin grabbed it--only a small block of wood, on which was printed, "PULL."

Eagerly the little hands obeyed, when in through the doorway slid an oblong package. Across the rug and up on the bed the Little Cousin drew it, till her excited fingers clasped the package tight--what could it be?

Fastened to the further end of the bundle was another block of wood, and attached to it was another string which led outside the door. On this block was printed. "When you are ready, PULL again!"

"I'll open this first," said the Little Cousin to herself, untying the block, and laying it aside with its dangling cord. Eagerly she tore off the wrappings--it was, it _was_ a doll, such a darling of a doll! It had brown eyes and fluffy yellow curls, and--this seemed very strange--the only thing in the way of clothing that it possessed was a little blanket that was wrapped around it.

Never mind! she was learning to sew, and she would make it a dress as soon as she was well again. She cuddled Dolly down against the pillows. She would not be lonely any more, even if Mumps should stay for a longer visit than was expected. Her dolls had all been left for the Little Sister in Constantinople, and it was so nice to have a dolly of her own again!

Then her eyes fell on the block of wood, with its inscription, and she began to pull in the string.

A square package appeared in the doorway, and she drew it toward her. Attached to it was a third block. This she untied as before, and removed the paper from her gift. It was a small trunk. She lifted the cover, and there were Dolly's missing garments! A blue dress, a pink dress, a white dress, dainty underwear, sash ribbons, a coat and hat, and even a tiny comb and brush, were found in that wonderful trunk. Of course, Dolly had to come out from her nook in the pillows, and be dressed. It took some time, because Little Cousin must stop to admire every separate garment. At last, however, the third present was pulled in, and it was a chair for Dolly to sit in.

The fourth package was big and rather heavier than the others. The Little Cousin wondered what it could be, and she found out just as soon as she could get it open. It was a dining-table for Dolly, with a real little table-cloth, and napkins, and a set of pretty china dishes.

"Oh, oh!" gasped the Little Cousin, in sheer delight. It is a pity there was no one there to see the shining of her eyes. She rested awhile among her pillows; but not long, for Dolly must have her table set for luncheon--she might be hungry.

Ready for the make-believe repast, string number five was pulled, and when the box was opened the Little Cousin fairly squealed, for there was a real luncheon for Dolly and herself, all in twos! There were two tiny buttered biscuits, two very small apple turnovers, and two little frosted cakes. There were, also, two small bottles containing a brownish liquid. It was chocolate! Oh, how glad the Little Cousin was that she had passed the stage where she could not eat! It would have been hard, indeed, to have left all those goodies for Dolly. As it was she had to take food in very small bits, but that only made it last the longer; and if it did hurt a little once in a while she did not mind, it tasted so good. So on the whole, the luncheon was a very happy affair.

When the sixth present was pulled upon the bed the Little Cousin said, "Oh!" to the accompaniment of very bright eyes, for the shape of it told her that must be a carriage--a carriage for Dolly, and it proved to be one of the very prettiest that ever a small doll rode in. She was put on the seat in a twinkling, and had only one tumble--which did not even muss her dress, and the next time she was strapped in so that she could not fall.

The seventh gift was a little white bedstead, with mattress and sheets, a dear little puffy comfortable, and a dainty coverlet and two pillows. Of course, Dolly was tired enough after her ride to be undressed and go to bed, and very sweet she looked as she was tucked snugly in.

"Now shut your eyes and go right to sleep!" Dolly was bidden, and she obeyed at once.

"What a perfectly lovely birthday!" murmured Little Cousin, drawing her darling--bed and all--close to her pillow. Then she shut her own eyes, to keep Dolly company.

When the Merry Mother peeped in, the Little Cousin from Constantinople lay quite still among her treasures--fast asleep.

LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD

RETOLD FROM GRIMM

There was once a sweet little girl, who had gained the love of every one, even those who had only seen her once. She had an old grandmother, who knew not how to do enough for her, she loved her so much. Once she sent her a little cloak with a red velvet hood, which became her so well that she obtained the name of Little Red Riding-Hood.

One day her mother said to her: "Come, Red Riding-Hood, I want you to go and see your grandmother, and take her a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; for she is ill and weak, and this will do her good. Make haste and get ready before the weather gets too hot, and go straight on your road while you are out, and behave prettily and modestly; and do not run, for fear you should fall and break the bottle, and then grandmother would have no wine. And when you pass through the village, do not forget to courtesy and say 'Good-morning' to every one who knows you."

"I will do everything you tell me, mother," said the child as she wished her good-by and started for her long walk.

It was quite half an hour's walk through the wood from the village to the grandmother's house, and no sooner had Red Riding-Hood entered the wood than she met a wolf.

Red Riding-Hood did not know what a wicked animal he was, and felt not the least afraid of him.

"Good-day, Red Riding-Hood," he said.

"Good-morning, sir," replied the little girl, with a courtesy.

"Where are you going so early, Red Riding-Hood?" he asked.

"To my grandmother, sir," she replied. "Mother baked yesterday, and she has sent me with a piece of cake and a bottle of wine to her because she is sick, and it will make her stronger and do her good."

"Where does your grandmother live, Red Riding-Hood?"

"About half a mile from here through the wood; her house stands under three large oak trees, near to the nut hedges; you would easily know it," said Red Riding-Hood.

The wolf, when he heard this, thought to himself, "This little, delicate thing would be a sweet morsel for me at last, and taste nicer than her old grandmother, but she would not satisfy my hunger; I must make a meal of them both."

Then he walked quietly on by the side of Red Riding-Hood till they came to a part of the wood where a number of flowers grew.

"See, Red Riding-Hood," he said, "what pretty flowers are growing here; would you not like to rest and gather some? And don't you hear how sweetly the birds are singing? You are walking on as steadily as if you were going to school, and it is much more pleasant here in the wood."

Then Red Riding-Hood looked up and saw the dancing sunbeams shining between the trees and lighting up the beautiful flowers that grew all around her, and she thought, "If I were to take my grandmother a fresh nosegay, it would make her so pleased; it is early yet, and I have plenty of time."

So she went out of her way into the wood to gather flowers. And when she had picked a few, she saw some more beautiful still at a little distance so she walked on further and further, till she was quite deep in the wood.

Meanwhile the wolf went straight on to the grandmother's house, and knocked at the door. There was no answer.

So the wolf lifted the latch and the door flew open; then he rushed in, hoping to seize upon the poor old grandmother, and eat her up. But she had gone out for a little walk, so he shut the door, dressed himself in the old woman's nightgown and nightcap, and lay down in the bed to wait for Red Riding-Hood.

After Red Riding-Hood had gathered as many flowers as she could carry, she found her way back quickly to the right path, and walked on very fast till she came to her grandmother's house, and knocked at the door.

"Who is there?" said the wolf, trying to imitate the grandmother. His voice was so gruff, however, that Little Red Riding-Hood would have been frightened, only she thought her grandmother had a cold.

So she replied: "It's Little Red Riding-Hood. Mother sent you a piece of cake and a bottle of wine."

"Lift up the latch and come in," said the wolf.

So Red Riding-Hood lifted the latch and went in.

When she saw her grandmother, as she thought, lying in bed, she went up to her and drew back the curtains; but she could only see the head, for the wolf had pulled the nightcap as far over his face as he could.

"Good-morning," she said; but there was no answer. Then she got on the bed, and cried out: "Grandmother, what great ears you have!"

"The better to hear with, my dear," he said.

"Grandmother, what great eyes you have!"

"The better to see you, my dear, the better to see you."

"Grandmother, what great teeth you have!"

"The better to eat you up!"

The old wolf jumped out of bed, and Little Red Riding Hood, in the greatest terror, screamed as loud as she could.

Just then the door opened, and in came the grandmother and some woodmen who were passing. They were just in time to save Little Red-Riding-Hood from the old wolf.

DOLLY'S DOCTOR

MARY

Come and see my baby dear; Doctor, she is ill, I fear. Yesterday, do what I would, She would touch no kind of food; And she tosses, moans, and cries. Doctor, what do you advise?

DOCTOR JOHN

Hum! ha! good madam, tell me, pray, What have you offered her to-day? Ah, yes! I see! a piece of cake-- The worst thing you could make her take. Just let me taste. Yes, yes; I fear Too many plums and currants here. But, stop; I must just taste again, For that will make the matter plain.

MARY

But, Doctor, pray excuse me, now-- You've eaten all the cake, I vow! I thank you kindly for your care; But surely that was hardly fair.

DOCTOR JOHN

Ah, dear me! did I eat the cake? Well, it was for dear baby's sake. But keep him in his bed, well warm, And, you will see, he'll take no harm. At night and morning use once more His draught and powder, as before; And he must not be over-fed, But he may have a piece of bread. To-morrow, then, I dare to say, He'll be quite right. Good day! good day!

THUMBELINA

BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

She had a little house of her own, a little garden, too, this woman of whom I am going to tell you, but for all that she was not quite happy.

"If only I had a little child of my own," she said, "how the walls would ring with her laughter, and how the flowers would brighten at her coming. Then, indeed, I should be quite happy."

And an old witch heard what the woman wished, and said, "Oh, but that is easily managed. Here is a barley-corn. Plant it in a flower-pot and tend it carefully, and then you will see what will happen."

The woman was in a great hurry to go home and plant the barley-corn, but she did not forget to say "Thank you" to the old witch. She not only thanked her, she even stayed to give her six silver pennies.

Then she hurried away to her home, took a flower-pot and planted her precious barley-corn.

And what do you think happened? Almost before the corn was planted, up shot a large and beautiful flower. It was still unopened. The petals were folded closely together, but it looked like a tulip. It really was a tulip, a red and yellow one, too.

The woman loved flowers. She stooped and kissed the beautiful bud. As her lips touched the petals, they burst open, and oh! wonder of wonders; there, in the very middle of the flower, sat a little child. Such a tiny, pretty little maiden she was.

They called her Thumbelina. That was because she was no bigger than the woman's thumb.

And where do you think she slept? A little walnut shell, lined with blue, that was her cradle.

When she slept little Thumbelina lay in her cradle on a tiny heap of violets, with the petal of a pale pink rose to cover her.

And where do you think she played? A table was her playground. On the table the woman placed a plate of water. Little Thumbelina called that her lake.

Round the plate were scented flowers; the blossoms lying on the edge, while the pale green stalks reached thirstily down to the water.

In the lake floated a large tulip leaf. This was Thumbelina's little boat. Seated there she sailed from side to side of her little lake, rowing cleverly with two white horse hairs. As she rowed backward and forward she sang softly to herself. The woman listening heard, and thought she had never known so sweet a song.

And now such a sad thing happened.

In through a broken window-pane hopped a big toad--oh, such an ugly big toad! She hopped right on to the table, where Thumbelina lay dreaming in her tiny cradle, under the pale pink rose leaf.

"How beautiful the little maiden is," she croaked. "She will make a lovely bride for my handsome son." And she lifted the little cradle, with Thumbelina in it, and hopped out through the broken window-pane, and down into the little garden.

At the foot of the garden was a broad stream. Here, under the muddy banks, lived the old toad with her son.

How handsome she thought him! But he was really very ugly. Indeed, he was exactly like his mother.

When he saw little Thumbelina in her tiny cradle, he croaked with delight.

"Do not make so much noise," said his mother, "or you will wake the tiny creature. We may lose her if we are not careful. The slightest breeze would waft her away. She is as light as gossamer."

Then the old toad carried Thumbelina out into the middle of the stream. "She will be safe here," she said, as she laid her gently on one of the leaves of a large water lily, and paddled back to her son.

"We will make ready the best rooms under the mud," she told him, "and then you and the little maiden will be married."

Poor little Thumbelina! She had not seen the ugly big toad yet, nor her ugly son.

When she woke up early in the morning, how she wept! Water all around her! How could she reach the shore? Poor little Thumbelina!

Down under the mud the old toad was very busy, decking the best room with buttercups and buds of water-lilies to make it gay for her little daughter-in-law, Thumbelina.

"Now we will go to bring her little bed and place it ready," said the old toad, and together she and her son swam out to the leaf where little Thumbelina sat.

"Here is my handsome son," she said, "he is to be your husband," and she bowed low in the water, for she wished to be very polite to the little maiden.

"Croak, croak," was all the young toad could say, as he looked at his pretty little bride.

Then they took away the tiny little bed, and Thumbelina was left all alone.

How the tears stained her pretty little face! How fast they fell into the stream! Even the fish as they swam hither and thither thought, "How it rains today," as the tiny drops fell thick and fast.

They popped up their heads and saw the forlorn little maiden.

"She shall not marry the ugly toad," they said, as they looked with eager eyes at the pretty child. "No, she shall not marry the ugly toad."

But what could the little fish do to help Thumbelina?