Part 1

Chapter 13,572 wordsPublic domain

LAZY MATILDA _and_ OTHER TALES

KATHARINE PYLE

AUTHOR OF "CARELESS JANE AND OTHER TALES," "WHERE THE WIND BLOWS," "FAIRY TALES FROM MANY LANDS," ETC.

NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & CO., INC.

_All Rights Reserved_

_First printing_ _September, 1921_ _Second printing_ _September, 1925_ _Third printing_ _March, 1926_ _Fourth printing_ _July, 1930_

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

PAGE LAZY MATILDA 9 THE WITCH AND THE TRUANT BOYS 27 THE VISITOR 37 DADDY CRANE 49 ENVIOUS ELIZA 63 THE NIXIE 75 STEPHEN'S LESSON 89 THE CATERPILLAR 99 MISCHIEVOUS JANE 113 THE SWEET TOOTH 125 VAIN LITTLE LUCY 139 THE MAGIC MAN 161

LAZY MATILDA

"I FEEL ashamed Matilda To see you such a shirk! I really think you'd run a mile To get away from work."

So spoke Matilda's mother Reprovingly one day, But Mattie only shrugged and sulked And turned her face away.

Soon mother left her then alone, The door was open wide. On tip-toes Mattie crossed the floor, And gaily ran outside.

She left her room undusted, She left her bed unmade, Indeed she really was a shirk I'm very much afraid.

With joy she gaily scampered Across the meadows wide, And chased the pretty butterflies That flew from side to side.

And on and on she wandered Until she reached a wood, And there, deep in the shadows A little grey house stood.

A dwarf was in the doorway, The door stood open wide, A lean and hungry-looking cat Was mewing just inside.

The old dwarf grinned and beckoned, "Come in, come in," cried he; "I need a little servant maid, And you will do for me."

"I have no wish to serve you," Matilda quickly cried. But still the old dwarf beckoned her And made her step inside.

He made her cook the dinner, He made her work all day. He watched her close, and left no chance For her to run away.

The pussy rubbed about her, "Meow, meow," said she. "I've been so starved, please look about And find some scraps for me."

"Whatever I may have to eat I'll always share with you," Matilda cried, "for I can see That you're unhappy, too."

One day the dwarf sat smoking Outside the open door, While Mattie worked about inside And scrubbed and swept the floor.

"Matilda," whispers pussy, "You've served me well each day, And now the dwarf is safe outside I'll help you run away.

"The kitchen door is open, So now be off," says she. "Yes," Mattie whispers, "but suppose The dwarf should call to me."

"You needn't be afraid of that," The clever pussy said, "For even if by chance he calls I'll answer in your stead."

Now little Mattie's scarcely gone Before the old dwarf cries, "Are you at work?" "I'm kneading bread," The pussy cat replies.

The old dwarf smoked and nodded, But soon again he said, "Are you at work?" "Oh, yes," cried puss; "I'm shaking up the bed."

Again the old dwarf calls her, "Now what are you about?" "I'm waiting here to catch a mouse If only he'll come out."

"What's that?" the old dwarf bellows. He bounces from his chair, He rushes in and quickly sees That only puss is there.

At once he knows the trick they've played. He catches up the broom, And chases poor old pussy cat Around and around the room.

"Good-bye to you," says pussy, "Indeed, I've had my fill," And up she bounds and out she goes Across the window sill.

"Come back! I will not beat you! Come back, come back!" cries he. "If I must lose both maid and cat What will become of me?"

But pussy does not heed him. Indeed, she's far away. She's followed little Mattie home And there she means to stay.

Matilda's now a useful child, She never tries to shirk, But helps, with ready cheerfulness, At any kind of work.

THE WITCH AND THE TRUANT BOYS

PETER and John, against the rule, Are playing truant from their school. With eager steps away they go To seek a fishing pool they know.

But see a witch is hiding there-- She'll catch them if they don't take care. Oh boys! make haste and hurry past! No--she has caught them tight and fast.

And now away with them she hies, In spite of all their kicks and cries. She hurries home and shuts the door And then she drops them on the floor.

"These boys are plump and soft," says she, "A fine fat meal they'll make for me. I'll fill my very biggest pot, And cook them when the water's hot."

But while her pot she's getting out, The frightened Peter looks about. He sees the bread trough open wide, And into it he jumps to hide;

Then with a bump he shuts the lid. And there he lies all safely hid. But the old witch has heard the sound. And quick she turns herself around.

She peers about with blinking eyes, "Where is that other boy?" she cries. "He can't have run away so quick. He must be hiding for a trick."

"You haven't treated me so well That you can think I want to tell, But if you look outside," says John, "Maybe you'll see which way he's gone."

The old witch throws the window wide And leans to look about outside. But while she's peering all around John creeps up close without a sound,

And shuts the window on her tight, And holds it down with all his might. 'Tis vain for her to kick and bawl, John does not heed her cries at all.

"Quick, Peter! Bring me from the shelf Hammer and nails. Bestir yourself." Out from the dough-trough Peter springs; Quickly he fetches John the things.

"Here they are, brother!" Now, tap-tap! John drives the nails with many a rap. He has the window nailed at last So tight 'twill hold the old witch fast.

No matter how she squirms and cries, She can't get loose howe'er she tries. But now the little boys are free To run on home, as you may see.

I'm sure it will be many a day Before again from school they stay. As for the witch, if she's stuck tight Until this day it serves her right.

THE VISITOR

JOHN'S manners at the table Were very sad to see. You'd scarce believe a child could act In such a way as he.

He smacked his lips and gobbled, His nose down in his plate. You might have thought that he was starved, So greedily he ate.

He'd snatch for what he wanted, And never once say "please," Or, elbows on the table, He'd sit and take his ease.

In vain papa reproved him; In vain mamma would say, "You really ought to be ashamed To eat in such a way."

One day when lunch was ready, And John came in from play, His mother said, "A friend has come To eat with you to-day."

"A friend of mine?" cried Johnny, "Whoever can it be?" "He's at the table," mother said, "You'd better come and see."

Into the dining-room he ran. A little pig was there. It had a napkin round its neck, And sat up in a chair.

"This is your friend," his father cried, "He's just a pig, it's true, But he might really be your twin, He acts so much like you."

"Indeed he's _not_ my friend," cried John, With red and angry face. "If he sits there beside my chair I'm going to change my place."

"No, no," his father quickly cried, "Indeed that will not do. Sit down at once where you belong, He's come to visit _you_."

Now how ashamed was little John; But there he had to sit, And see the piggy served with food, And watch him gobble it.

"John," said mamma, "I think your friend Would like a piece of bread." "And pass him the potatoes, too," Papa politely said.

The other children laughed at this, But father shook his head. "Be still, or leave the room at once; It's not a joke," he said.

"Oh, mother, send the pig away," With tears cried little John. "I'll never eat that way again If only he'll be gone."

"Why," said mamma, "since that's the case, And you your ways will mend, Perhaps we'd better let him go. Perhaps he's not your friend."

Now John has learned his lesson, For ever since that day He's lost his piggish manners, And eats the proper way.

And his papa, and mother too, Are both rejoiced to see How mannerly and how polite Their little John can be.

DADDY CRANE

NED was so fond of swimming No punishment nor rule That mother made could keep him long Out of the swimming pool.

One morning she had set him To clear a flower bed, "And do not stop till every weed Is out of it," she said.

But oh, that naughty Edward! She scarce had turned away When up he rose, and off he ran; He did not stop nor stay.

Soon, naked as a little frog, With many a joyous shout, He jumped into the swimming pool, And kicked and swam about.

But while he played so gaily Old Daddy Crane, unseen, Stood watching him, and grinning, Among the rushes green.

"I'll wait until that funny thing Has dressed, and then," says he, "I'll catch him by the trousers seat And take him home with me."

Soon, cooled and freshened by his swim, Young Ned comes splashing out. In haste he gets into his clothes And never looks about.

Now Daddy stretches out his neck! "Oh! Oh," poor Edward cries, For Daddy has him in his beak, And off with him he flies.

Far, far off by a river, Where no one comes to see, Old Daddy lives among the reeds, He and his children three.

'Tis there he carries Edward. "Look children! Look!" cries he. "I've brought you such a funny thing. It swims, as you shall see."

And now with cackling laughter He throws poor little Ned Far, far out in the river, Ker-splash! heels over head.

Then how the young ones clap their wings, And laugh and dance about, As, blowing water from his nose, Poor Ned comes scrabbling out.

"Quick, Daddy, throw him in again," The youngsters cry with glee. "There never was a froggy thing As comical as he."

In vain poor Edward struggles. His cries are all in vain. No sooner does he get on shore Than splash! he's in again.

"Oh dear!" he cries, while water Is mingled with his tears, "I've had enough of swimming To last for years and years."

And so, next time they throw him in, Instead of swimming round He hides himself among the reeds, And hopes he won't be found.

He hears old Daddy calling, "Hi there! You frog, come out! You needn't try to hide from me. I know what you're about."

He hears the young ones rustle round, They bitterly complain, "Oh Daddy, find our frog for us. We want him back again."

But quick Ned gathers lily leaves, All broad and green and flat, And fixes them to hide his head As though they were a hat.

Then out beyond the reeds he floats; The green leaves hide him still As down the stream he swims away Past meadow, wood and hill.

In vain old Daddy hunts about, And little does he dream That Ned was underneath the leaves That floated down the stream.

Now Edward's reached his home again. He runs in through the door, Leaving a trail of water Across the kitchen floor.

"You need not scold me mother," With chattering teeth he says. "I've had enough of swimming now To last me all my days."

ENVIOUS ELIZA

ELIZA was an envious child, Indeed 'twas very sad To see the way she wished for things That other children had.

Instead of playing like the rest, She'd stand about and whine, "I do not see why every one Has better things than mine.

"Jane's doll is prettier than mine. John has a better ball. The one Aunt Sarah gave to me Will hardly bounce at all.

"My picture book is old and torn And Mary's looks quite new. And Tom has all the building blocks. I wish I had some, too."

'Twas thus the envious little girl Complained day after day. She made herself unhappy, And spoiled the fun and play.

At last one day when she began With her complaints once more, John quickly gathered up his toys And games from off the floor.

"Here, you may have my things," he said, "I'll give them all to you." "And you may have my doll," said Jane, "And all her dresses, too."

"Yes," Mary cried, "and take my books, "My grace-hoop, sticks and all, And Noah's Ark." "And here!" said Tom, "Here are my blocks and ball."

Eliza scarce believed her ears, "You'll give them all to me,-- The books and games and toys? Oh dear! How happy I shall be."

The other children ran away, And left her standing there, But since they'd also left their things But little did she care.

Quite happily, all by herself, She played that afternoon, It seemed to her that supper time Had never come so soon.

Next day, all by herself again; She settled down to play, But oh! the room seemed strangely still With all the rest away.

"I wonder what they're all about, And where they are," thought she; And then she called them, "Come in here And play awhile with me."

"We can't," she heard them answer back, "There's nothing we can do Now we have given all our toys And games and books to you!"

"But oh! I cannot always play All by myself," cried she, "Come here, and you shall have again The things you gave to me.

"The toys and books and dolls and games-- Each one shall take his own, I'd rather never have a thing Than always play alone."

The children now have taken back The toys they gave to her, The nursery's full of merriment And fun and cheerful stir.

Eliza now is quite content To play like all the rest, And never gives a single thought To which one has the best.

THE NIXIE

ONCE John and Jane were playing Beside a shining lake When suddenly the waters Began to stir and shake.

And up there rose a nixie From out the waters green. She was the strangest looking thing That they had ever seen.

She called the children gently. She coaxed them, "Come with me, And I will show you castles, And gardens fair to see."

"Our mother's often told us," The children both replied, "We must not go with strangers, Or evil may betide."

But still the nixie coaxed them. "Come see my lovely things. I'll show you strings of shining shells, And fishes that have wings."

She took them by their shoulders, She took them by the hands, She drew them down beneath the lake To where her castle stands.

But now the nixie had them She lost her pleasant smile. She set the children both to work And scolded all the while.

"Now scrub about, and sweep about, And fill the iron pot, And hang it up above the fire To make the water hot.

"No idling now, you lazy ones; Be quick and stir your feet, The while I go outside a bit And catch some fish to eat."

Soon as the nixie leaves them The children set to work. Indeed they're both so frightened They do not dare to shirk.

Just as the work is finished The nixie comes once more, And leaves a trail of water Across the kitchen floor.

Her net is full of fishes. "Here, child! be quick," cries she, "Now clean these fish and cook them, And serve them up to me."

Quick little Janie sets to work, She cooks the fish in haste, The greedy nixie eats them all; She does not leave a taste.

Then after she has finished She lies down on the bed, And snores so loud the rafters Are shaken overhead.

Then Janie beckons Johnnie, And whispers in his ear, "Now, John, I'm going to run away. I will not stay down here."

But little John is frightened. "Oh dear! I'd be afraid. I know she'd come and catch us, This cruel water-maid."

"But I've a plan," says Janie, "It just came in my head. We'll take the nixie's fishing-net And tie her down in bed.

"Be quick or she may waken, We have no time to waste." So now the little children Have set to work in haste.

They wrap her net about her, They tie her tight in bed. Now, even if she wakened She scarce could lift her head!

"So there! that job is finished," Cries little Jane with glee. "Unless someone unties her She never can get free."

Now quick the little children Run tip-toe out the door, And never stop nor turn about Till they are home once more.

But for the cruel nixie, Whether she's still in bed, Or whether she has wriggled out No one has ever said.

STEPHEN'S LESSON

'TIS very very sad indeed When little children choose To say the naughty, ugly words That no one ought to use.

That was the way with Stephen, Such naughty words he said That grandmamma looked shocked and grieved, And auntie shook her head.

Mamma said, "Son, I've told you Such words you must not say, And yet, in spite of warnings, I hear them every day.

"So now, my child, I'm taking These sticking plaster strips. I'm going to put them on your mouth And seal those naughty lips."

"But mother, how then shall I eat?" Cries Stephen anxiously. "Oh, I will take them off for meals. 'Twill not be hard," says she.

In vain poor Stephen pleads with her; In vain he sobs and cries. She lays the strips across his lips In straight and criss-cross wise.

Now only sounds like "Um! Um-hum!" From Stephen's lips are heard, Because, with all those plasters on He cannot speak a word.

Now Stephen cannot go to school, He sits at home all day. He feels ashamed to go outside, Or join the boys at play.

And if he's at the window, And some one passes by, He quickly turns aside his head, Lest they the plasters spy.

One day, when mother changed the strips In haste poor Stephen cried, "I do not think my lips could say Those words now if I tried."

"If that's the case," cried mother, "No need to use these slips," And with a smile of joy she kissed The one-time naughty lips.

Indeed the lesson had been learned, For Stephen nevermore Was heard to say those naughty words That he had used before.

THE CATERPILLAR

ANNE was a lively child at play, And quick as she could be, But when an errand must be run Ah, slow of foot was she.

"My child," said grandmamma one day, "Run to my room and look, And bring me, from my bureau there, My spectacles and book."

"Oh, grandmamma, I'm reading now," The lazy Annie said, "I do not want to leave my book, Mayn't Mary go instead?"

No wonder grandmamma looked pained When Annie answered so, But little Mary cried, "Why, yes! Of course I'd love to go."

"Come little Anne," her mother called, "Run down the street for me, And get some thread to sew your frock. Let's see how quick you'll be."

"Oh dear! I'm tired," Anne replied, "Why cannot Mary go? Or nurse? She's not been out all day, Indeed she told me so."

"My child, my child!" her mother said, "Whatever shall I do? You're such a lazy, useless girl I feel ashamed of you.

"Your little feet run fast enough For pleasure or for fun, But you can hardly crawl about When errands must be run."

But listen now! One day Anne woke And felt quite strange and queer. "Whatever's happened to me now," She cried; "Oh dear, oh dear!

"Oh mother! nurse! Come in here quick And tell me what is wrong. I seem to have so many feet-- My body feels so long."

Mamma and nurse came hurrying in, Ah what a sight to see! Poor Anne! A caterpillar's legs And stubby feet had she.

She scarce knew how to turn herself Nor how to climb from bed. "However shall I run or play!" The poor child sadly said.

Mamma and nurse were shocked and grieved, And so was grandma, too, While little Mary sobbed, "Oh dear! Whatever will she do!"

But like a caterpillar soon She learned to crawl around, Although her legs were now so short She almost touched the ground.

'Twas sad indeed to be so slow When she had been so fleet. No longer could she play about Nor run out in the street.

Her greatest pleasure was to find Some errand she could go, And up and down the stairs she'd trudge With patient steps and slow.

She waited on her grandmamma, And on her mother, too. No one could ask her anything She was not glad to do.

One day her watchful mother said, "It really seems to me Anne's legs are growing long and slim, More like they used to be.