CHAPTER XXV

THE CHILDREN’S RED CROSS ENTERTAINMENT

“Well,” said Bronze-Wing, “you catch pussy and cut the nails of his forefeet.

“It doesn’t hurt a bit, and when pussy’s claws are trimmed he can not climb trees nor hold little birds down while he tears them limb from limb.”

“No one shall trim my claws,” said Thomas stoutly.

“Wait and see,” said Bronze-Wing. “There may be a law to that effect.”

“Oh, look, birds,” called Black Gorget suddenly, “here come our darlings all dressed up.”

Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo and Freddie and Beatrice had got to be such dear children that all the birds and the animals in the neighborhood loved them. Just now they were coming down the sidewalk in very amusing costumes. They were going to have a Red Cross entertainment on the big lawn of the boarding house. The day was so fine that the ladies were sitting out in front and the children thought it a good chance to make some money, for, like their elders, they were doing everything in their power to help the work for wounded soldiers.

Sammy-Sam was dressed to represent a dog, Freddie was a pony, Lucy-Loo was a bird, and Beatrice was a cat.

The two boys were going along on all fours. Sammy-Sam had on an old curly black woolen coat of his aunt’s, strapped well round his little body, so as to leave his arms and legs free to run on. Freddie wore a ponyskin coat of his mother’s.

Beatrice had on a gray costume that she had worn at a children’s party when she represented a cat, and Lucy-Loo was dressed in bright blue, and had a very perky little tail.

Beatrice, who usually took command of their play, marshaled them all in a row at the back of the lawn, then she stepped forward, adjusted the cat head mask she wore, which was always slipping on one side, so that the eye holes came over one ear.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, in her clear young voice, “no, I mean just ladies, you are always so kind about helping us with your money that when we saw you sitting out here we thought we would give our new entertainment. This is really truly brand new. We made up the verses ourselves. I did most of them, ’cause the boys aren’t much good at poetry. Costumes are new, too, ’cept mine. I will begin with my ‘Song of a Cat.’”

Then she made a pretty little bow, gave her long tail a throw, and began:

“THOMAS, THE NOBLE CAT”

“One night, not very long ago, Dear Thomas wandered to and fro. He saw a man come in his house, Creeping as quiet as any mouse.

“Said Thomas cat unto himself, ‘This man is after wicked pelf; Mayhap he’ll creep right up the stair, And steal the jewels of ladies fair.’

“He hied him to his mistress dear, He told to her his fearful fear. She called some bold men from upstairs, And Tom was cured of all his cares.

“They chased that burglar man as he Smashed through the window mightily; Policemen came; they seized him well, And now he droops within a cell!”

The ladies were delighted with her tale of Black Thomas, and when she finished they clapped their hands and bowed and smiled, and we birds chirped and whistled to each other, and sat with our heads on one side, looking very knowing, for we had been among the first to hear of this story.

To the great amusement but not to the surprise of the ladies, Beatrice promptly took up a collection in a knitting bag that could have held a thousand dollars.

When she retired to the back of the lawn, Sammy-Sam came tumbling forward on hands and feet and, starting to bow politely, lost his dog mask, which Beatrice quickly clapped on again.

“Bow, wow, ladies,” he said,

“I am a little doggie dog. There’s only one person in the world for me, And that’s my master or mistress, whichever it happens to be. For her or for him I’ll lay down my life; Who says I am not a soldier dog? Bow, wow!”

We birds did not think his poetry as good as Beatrice’s, but the ladies greeted him with just as much applause, and he took up a collection in Beatrice’s bag, first pouring out its contents on the grass, so that he could compare his receipts with hers.

“Bow, wow, too many coppers, ladies!” he barked. “Silver, please, for me,” and he started round the half circle, the bag in his mouth, hopping from one to another, and then retiring to the background where he and the lamb counted the money and wagged their heads as if well pleased with what they had got.

Beatrice stepped to the edge of the lawn. “Ladies,” she said, “the next number on our programme is ‘The Song of a Birdie,’ written and recited by Miss Lucy-Loo Claxton.”

Amid much hand-clapping, Lucy-Loo stepped shyly forward. She was dressed all in blue, and she tried to give her perky little tail a flirt, but was too nervous to do more than shake it feebly, causing both boys to break into a roar of laughter, which Beatrice promptly checked. Then Lucy-Loo began—

“_Dear Friends_, I am a little birdie, And I don’t know what kind of a bird I am. I am just a bird. I have a pretty head and bright eyes to see you. I have a pair of wings that I like for myself. For I love to fly up toward the blue sky; Please don’t take my wings and put them in your hat. And in summer don’t let little boys shoot me. “Yours truly, “A LITTLE BIRD.”

The ladies were so warm in praising her that she quite lost her little bird head and announced that her collection would be neither coppers nor silver, but paper money.

Her hearers were convulsed with laughter, and gave her what she asked for, though I noticed that they had to do some borrowing from each other, not having foreseen an appeal for money on their own veranda, though Red Cross workers are everywhere now.

Freddie came last with his ditty about the pony. He looked very smooth and very innocent with his good young eyes shining out of a headpiece of black hairy skin, which made him perspire quite freely.

He rose on his little hoofs and recited very earnestly:

“Pony, pony is my name, Pony is my nature. Do not whip me up the hill, Do not hurry me down the road. Give me food and water plenty, Brush me well and give me a good bed. Don’t jerk my tender mouth when you drive me. Don’t beat me when you’re angry. Love me a little if you can, For I—love—you.”