Part 2

"She does not have so many now. Her body's shorter, too. I saw her standing up to-day Quite as she used to do."

"I've noticed that," her grandma said, "Indeed I hope some day To see our Anne herself again, And fit for work and play."

And so it was. For one day Anne Awoke to find once more She was the selfsame nimble child That she had been before.

Then what rejoicings filled the house, All gathered round to see; And as for Anne, as you may guess, A thankful child was she.

And never since has Annie lost Her willing, useful ways, And her mamma and every one All speak of her with praise.

MISCHIEVOUS JANE

JANE'S greatest pleasure and delight Was putting others in a fright.

She loved to bounce and scream and climb, She kept nurse nervous all the time.

Her dear mamma was worried, too, She never knew what Jane would do.

One day she climbed up in a tree. A very daring child was she.

Then she began to scream and call, "Oh nurse, come quick! Oh! Oh! I'll fall!"

Quickly her nurse came running out, And anxiously she looked about.

"Where are you, Jane? Where can you be?" "Here I am, nurse, up in the tree."

Poor nurse was in a dreadful fright. "Oh Jane!" she cried. "That is not right."

"Come down! If your mamma should see You know how worried she would be."

Jane laughed aloud to see her fright, She thought it such a funny sight.

Now higher up the tree she went, On nurse's further torment bent.

"_Now_ look!" she cried. But as she spoke The branch where she was standing broke,

And then--a fearful sight to see-- Down she came crashing through the tree.

Her nursie screamed so loud with fear That all the neighborhood could hear.

But luckily, when half way down A ragged branch caught Janie's gown.

It stopped her fall, and held her there Swinging and turning in the air.

Her nurse's cries brought mother out, And neighbors ran from all about.

They talked and made a great to-do, But how to reach her no one knew.

Till some one cried, "Without a doubt We'll have to call the firemen out.

"They have a ladder that's so high It almost reaches to the sky."

Mamma cries, "Oh, for mercy's sake Be quick! Suppose the branch should break?"

Now clang! clang! clang! the fire-bells go. People are running to and fro,

And down the street--ah only see! There comes the fire company.

"Quick! Get the ladder up!" "Look out!" "Be careful there what you're about."

Now up, up, up, the ladder goes. It's up as high as Janie's toes.

Up further still; it's resting now Its topmost rung against a bough.

Then quick a fireman, strong and brown Runs up and lifts the poor child down.

And listen how the anxious crowd That has been watching shouts aloud.

No need for any more alarms. He's placed her in her mother's arms.

"Oh dear! I'll never try," sobs Jane "To frighten any one again."

THE SWEET TOOTH

THE SWEET TOOTH

A SWEET-TOOTH was our Frederick. He scorned the bread and meat And all the other wholesome things That children ought to eat.

He ate the sugar from the bowl; He fed on cakes and pies, The very sight of lollipops Brought water to his eyes.

He grew too fat to play about, Too fat to run or jump, On either side his arms stuck out Like handles of a pump.

It grieved his kind mamma to see How fat and fatter grew Her little Fred, in spite of all That she could say or do.

One day, with pennies in his hand He set out for a shop, To buy himself some sugar-cakes Or tart or lollipop.

But oh the day was very hot, The sun a fiery ball, And soon the heat made Fred so soft He scarce could walk at all.

"Oh dear, oh dear! I feel so queer; What's happening?" cried he. "If I should melt in all this heat How dreadful it would be!"

It is a sorry tale to tell, But greedy ones take heed! Fred's arms and legs and all of him Were melting down indeed.

They melted till you scarce could tell Fred was a boy at all, For now he looked all smooth and round As though he were a ball.

That afternoon the girls and boys Came running out to play, And wondering they gathered round The place where Frederick lay.

"Oh what a great enormous ball! "Let's play with it," they cried; And then they rolled and pushed poor Fred About from side to side.

Hither and yon, in giddy round The wretched Frederick sped, And sometimes he was on his heels, And sometimes on his head.

At supper time the mothers called, "Now put your ball away. To-morrow you can get it out And have another play."

Ah Frederick, poor Frederick! Though he lay quiet now He could not even lift his hand To wipe his heated brow,

And now each day they came to play With Fred, until at last His fat began to wear away They rolled him round so fast.

The disappointed children said, "Someone has spoiled our ball. It's growing such a funny shape It scarcely rolls at all."

One time when they had stopped to rest Fred's little brother said, "It's queer, but don't you think our ball Looks very much like Fred?"

"Why it _is_ Fred," his sister cried. "I know his eyes and nose. And only see! Those are his hands, And down there are his toes."

They called his mother out to see. With eager steps she came, At once she knew her Frederick, And called him by his name.

And now he found that he could turn, That he could move and rise. He stood before his mother With shamed and tearful eyes.

"Oh, mother, mother, dear, I've had A dreadful time!" cried he, "But now that I'm a boy again Less greedy I will be."

VAIN LITTLE LUCY

VAIN LITTLE LUCY

MISS LUCY was a pretty child, But vain as she could be, She loved all sorts of furbelows, And frills and finery.

Her godmamma once sent to her A frock of ruffed lace, A flowered hat, and parasol With which to shade her face.

And in the box was also packed A pair of pink kid shoes. "Oh dear!" her mother sighed; "they all Are quite too fine to use."

But Lucy cried, "Oh mother, no! I'm sure they're what I need. When I am dressed and walking out I will look fine indeed."

And then she begged to put them on, And with a peacock pride She stood before the looking-glass And turned from side to side.

"May I go out and show them off?" Cried Lucy eagerly. "How all the little girls will stare! And how they'll envy me!"

"Why Lucy! What a way to speak!" Her loving mother cried. "I am surprised my child should show Such vain and silly pride."

"Now go put on your calico, And run outdoors and play. These things were meant for special times, And not for every day."

But Lucy has another plan. She sulks, and hangs about, Till later in the afternoon, When her mamma goes out.

Then quick she dresses up again In all her frills and lace, And out she runs, to trip along With air of dainty grace.

She walked with such a haughty air, She held her head so high, The other children scarcely dared To speak as she passed by.

But even as, with scornful air, She minced along the street, There came a sudden rushing wind That swept her from her feet.

It caught her by her parasol, It caught her by her frills, It swept her up into the sky, And off across the hills.

No knowing where she would have gone, Still driven by the blast, But luckily a branching tree Has caught her skirts at last.

It catches her and holds to her,-- It will not let her go; Whatever will become of her Poor Lucy does not know.

In vain she twists herself about And strives with all her might. "Oh, dear kind tree," she says to it, "Don't hold me quite so tight."

The tree replies, "My branches Shall quickly set you free If you'll give me your parasol To wear as finery."

"Oh, take it, do," cries Lucy. "I do not care at all, If you will only set me free; But do not let me fall."

So now the twigs and branches Bend back to let her go, And safely Lucy clambers down Into the field below.

Now Lucy looks about her With frightened, tearful eyes. "Oh dear, oh dear, I'm lost I fear! What shall I do!" she cries.

High overhead a raven Is sitting in the tree, "I know the way you ought to go." Cries Lucy, "Tell it me!"

"Oh it is not for nothing I tell the things I know, But if you'll let me have your hat I'll tell you how to go."

"Alas, I meant to keep it, And wear it for my best. But take it," cries poor Lucy. "'Twill make a pretty nest."

Now with his wing the raven points, "There yonder lies your way." And off Miss Lucy runs in haste. She does not stop nor stay.

But see! across the pathway A thorn tree towers high. Its thorns will surely catch her Before she can go by.

"Oh prickly, stickly thorn-tree, That stands to bar the way, Draw back your boughs," cries Lucy, "And let me pass, I pray."

The thorn replies, "My blossoms Have dropped and left me bare, I'll let you pass if I may have That little frock you wear."

"Here take my frock," cries Lucy, And gives it to the tree, Then quick it draws aside its thorns And leaves the pathway free.

Now on again runs Lucy. Indeed she is in haste. If she would reach her home by dark She has no time to waste.

And now she sees a river, It flows so deep and wide There seems no way for Lucy To reach the other side.

But look! A duck is sailing Upon the flowing tide, His legs are strong for swimming, His back is flat and wide.

"Oh pretty duck," cries Lucy, "Come here, come here to me. If you will carry me across How thankful I will be."

"In winter time," replies the duck, "My toes get nipped with frost. If you will give your shoes to me I'll carry you across."

"Here! Take them quick," cries Lucy. "Indeed I do not care! I have a stouter pair at home, And they will do to wear."

And now see little Lucy On ducky's back astride, As steadily he swims across Unto the other side.

Now on she runs--she reaches home-- In through the door she creeps, "Oh mother dear, I'm back again," With joyful tears she weeps.

Now Lucy's grown more sensible, She's quite content when dressed In just the plain and simple things That mother thinks are best.

THE MAGIC MAN

'TIS very naughty for a child To try to hang about And overhear what people say, And find their secrets out.

Our James was such a child as that. He loved to overhear The very things he knew were not Intended for his ear.

The older people often said, "Now James, please run away. You're always, always hanging round To hear what we may say."

Once mother asked some ladies in To drink a cup of tea, And nurse said, "James, don't go downstairs; Come in the room with me."

"I want to hear them talk," said James. "_I_ like to listen, too." "But that's exactly what mamma Has told you not to do."

"I'll stay here, anyway," said James, And sat down on the stair, And when nurse found he would not move She went and left him there.

"And now she's gone, I'll creep downstairs Into the hall," thought he, "And listen at the parlor door, I'm sure no one will see."

But James had hardly risen up Before, all silently, Some one came stealing down the hall As soft as soft could be.

And then James felt that somebody Had caught him by each ear, "Ho!" cried a voice, "so you're the boy Who always wants to hear."

Quite suddenly he felt his ears Begin to stretch and spread. Until, like any elephant's They stood out from his head.

"Let go!" cried James, "Let go, I say! Take care what you're about!" And then the hands had set him free, And quick he turned about.

He peered around with frightened eyes. No one at all was there,-- Only the clock that said tick-tock, And shadows on the stair.

Into the nursery quick he ran, "Oh, nursie! Only see! Somebody came and stretched my ears And scared me terribly."

Nurse looked at him and gave a cry. "Oh James! What shall we do! It must have been the Magic Man Who did this thing to you.

"I know when children misbehave He often comes about, And punishes their naughty ways If he can find them out."

And now mamma is called in haste. She comes, and "Oh!" cries she, "Whatever's happened to your ears? They are a sight to see!"

James tells her all the doleful tale, But ah, 'tis very plain The only thing is just to wait And hope they'll shrink again.

"If you are very patient, James, And if you will be good, Perhaps some day your ears once more Will look the way they should."

Now James is different indeed, For ever since that day He's never wished to overhear What other people say,

And if a secret's being told That he perchance might hear He runs away, or else he stuffs A finger in each ear.

His ears are shrinking day by day, And soon I hope we'll see They are as small as any lad Could wish his ears to be.

End of Project Gutenberg's Lazy Matilda and Other Tales, by Katharine Pyle