Phil says he thinks it is a great pity when the May isn’t out till June, because you can’t go Maying if there isn’t any May, and it’s so stupid to go Maying in June. Phil is eleven months and fourteen days younger than I am, and his birthday is on the fourteenth of February and mine is on the first of March; so for fourteen days we are the same age, and when it’s Leap Year we are the same age for fifteen days.
I don’t understand why it should be a day more some years and not others, but mother says we shall learn about it by-and-by. Phil says he will like learning all that, but I don’t think I shall, because I like playing better.
Phil and I have a little dog of our own, and he belongs between us. His name is Dash. He came from the Home for Lost Dogs, and we didn’t know his name, so Phil and I sat on the grass, and we called him by every name we could think of, until Phil thought of Dash, and when Dash heard that name he jumped up, and ran to Phil, and licked his face. We don’t know what kind of dog he is, and father called him a ‘terrier spaniel;’ but he laughed as he said it, and so we’re not quite sure that he wasn’t in fun. But it doesn’t matter what kind of dog Dash is, because we are all fond of him, and if you’re fond of any one if doesn’t matter what they’re like, or if they have a pretty name.
Dash goes out with us when we take a walk, and I’m sure he knew yesterday when we went out without leave, because we wanted to go Maying. There’s a beautiful hedge full of May blossoms down the lane and across the meadow, and we did want some May very badly. So Phil and I went without asking mother, and Dash went with us.
We found the place quite easily, and had pulled down several boughs of it, when we heard a gruff voice calling to us, and the farmer came up, asking what we were doing to his hedge.
I said, “Please, we didn’t know it was yours, and we want some May very much, because to-morrow’s the first of June, you know, and Phil says we can’t go Maying then.”
The farmer didn’t say any thing until he caught sight of Dash, and then he called out, angrily,—“If that dog gets among my chickens, I shall have him shot!”
We were so frightened at that, that we ran away; and Dash ran too, as if he understood what the farmer said. We didn’t stop for any May blossoms though we had picked them, and we did want them so, because of its being the thirty-first of May.
Phil said the farmer was calling after us, but we only ran the faster, for fear he should shoot Dash. When we got home, mother met us in the porch, and asked where we had been; then we told her all about the farmer, and how we wanted to go Maying while we could.
She laughed a little, but presently she looked quite grave, and said,—“I’m very glad to find you have told me the whole truth, because if you had not I should still have known it. Farmer Grey has been here, and he told me about your having gone across his meadow that he is keeping for hay. He has brought you all the May you left behind, and he says you may have some more if you want it, only you must not walk through the long grass, but go round the meadow by the little side-path. He said he was afraid he had frightened you, and he was sorry.”
Phil and I had a splendid Maying after that. We made wreaths for ourselves, and one for Dash, only we couldn’t get him to wear his, which was a pity.
But the best of all is that mother says she can always trust us, because we told the truth at once; and Phil and I think we would rather never go Maying any more (though we like it so much) than not tell her every thing. I’m sure it’s a very good plan, and we mean to do it always, even when we’re quite grown up. Mother laughs at that, and says,—“You will have your secrets then;” but Phil and I don’t think we shall, because it couldn’t be a really nice secret if we mightn’t tell mother.
AMONG the passengers on board a river-steamer recently was a woman, accompanied by a bright-looking nurse-girl, and a self-willed boy, about three years old.
The boy aroused the indignation of the passengers by his continued shrieks and kicks and screams, and his viciousness toward the patient nurse. He tore her bonnet, scratched her hands, without a word of remonstrance from the mother.
Whenever the nurse showed any firmness, the mother would chide her sharply, and say,—“Let him have it, Mary. Let him alone.”
Finally the mother composed herself for a nap; and about the time the boy had slapped the nurse for the fiftieth time, a bee came sailing in and flew on the window of the nurse’s seat. The boy at once tried to catch it.
The nurse caught his hand, and said, coaxingly:
“Harry mustn’t touch. It will bite Harry.”
Harry screamed savagely, and began to kick and pound the nurse.
The mother, without opening her eyes or lifting her head, cried out, sharply:
“Why will you tease that child so, Mary? Let him have what he wants at once.”
“But, ma’am, it’s a—”
“Let him have it, I say.”
Thus encouraged, Harry clutched at the bee and caught it. The yell that followed brought tears of joy to the passengers.
The mother awoke again.
“Mary!” she cried, “let him have it.”
Mary turned in her seat, and said, confusedly:—“He’s got it, ma’am.”
MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.
HOPE LEDYARD.
Six eager faces, all crowding around to “see the picture!” Four of the faces belong to girls—Edith and Mamie, Birdie and Jeanie, while Al and Dick, who are pretty big boys, “over ten,” lean over the back of the chair.
“He’s had a good catch,” says Al.
“He’s not caught those,” says Dick, while the girls look first at the picture and then at the boys. “I guess that fellow standing up in the boat is his father. The men have caught the fish and the boy takes them to sell. Why, a fish as big as one of those fellows could pull a boy right into the water, easy!”
“My brother Dick knows,” whispers Jeanie, proudly. “He took me fishing once and I caught two fish.”
The little girls look as if they could hardly believe this, so Jeanie pulls mamma’s arm and asks, “Didn’t I catch two fish last summer?”
“Indeed she did,” says Dick, before mamma has time to answer. “She caught two sun-fish. I never saw any one do it better. Mother fried ’em for her dinner, too.”
“My sister goes to a cooking school and learns to bake fish,” says Edith, “and she is teaching me at home. I know the verse about cooking fish.”
We all begged Edith to say the verse, so, after a little coaxing, she repeated:
Edith is a little orphan girl who lives with her grandmother and sister Minnie. We are all so interested about the cooking class, that she tells us about how they learn to bake bread.
“I mixed the bread last Friday night and made some biscuit in the morning, and if I hadn’t forgotten the salt they would have been splendid. I don’t remember all the verses about bread, but one verse is:
“Well, it’s girls’ work to cook and boys’ work to catch,” said Al, who was getting tired of hearing verses.
“Jeanie did some catching before she was five years old, and you forget how nicely papa cooked the breakfast when you were camping out last summer.”
“I suppose his cooking, like Jeanie’s fishing, was just an accident.”
“No, indeed! Good cooking has to be learned,” I said, “and this picture makes me think of the first fish I had to cook, and what a foolish girl I had.”
“Oh, mamma’s going to tell us a story about when she was a girl,” Jeanie exclaims. So all take seats—Jeanie on my lap, the boys on the two arms of my chair, and the three little sisters on chairs or footstools.
Not about when I was a girl, but about when I was a very young wife.
You boys know that I had always lived in a big house in the city, where the servants did all the cooking and such work, while I practiced music or studied or visited my Sunday-school scholars. I was just as fond of them in those days as I am now. Well! Your papa took me to a dear little house, far, far away, near Lake George. I had a very young girl to help me about the house, who did not know any thing about cooking. I thought I knew a good deal, for I had learned to bake bread, and roast meat and make a cup of tea or coffee. I had just as much fun keeping house in that little cottage as Jeanie has playing house up stairs. But one day papa went off in a hurry and forgot to ask me what I wanted for dinner. He was to bring a gentleman home that day and I hoped he would send me a good dinner.
About ten o’clock Annie, my little servant, came to me and said, “Oh, ma’am, the butcher’s here with a beautiful fish the master has sent for the meat.”
“A fish! Annie, do you know how to cook fish?” I said.
“No, ma’am. Only it’s fried they mostly has ’em.”
I went into the kitchen and there lay a beautiful trout—too pretty to eat, it seemed to me. Certainly too pretty to be spoiled by careless cooking. So I took my receipt book and after reading carefully, I stuffed the pretty fish and laid him in a pan all ready for the oven, and told Annie to put it in at eleven o’clock.
I was pretty tired, so I lay down for a little nap, and had just dropped asleep when Annie came into the room, wringing her hands and saying, “Oh, ma’am! Oh, ma’am! What’ll I do in the world?”
It seems that she had taken the fish out of the safe and put it, pan and all, on the table, and then, remembering I had told her to sprinkle a little pepper on it, she went to the closet for her pepper-box, and when she came back, the pan was empty!
“The cat stole it, Annie,” I said.
“Indade and she didn’t. The innocent cratur was lyin’ on my bed and the door shut.”
I tried to quiet the girl; but I told her at last she could go home that night, only she must dry her eyes and run to the butcher’s for a steak, for the master would be home with a strange gentleman in half an hour. We managed to get the steak cooked, and papa tried to laugh Annie out of the notion of a ghost stealing our beautiful fish, but the girl would not smile and was afraid to be left alone in the kitchen. So after tea she packed up her things and was to take the stage to the depot; for Annie lived a long way off.
Just before the stage came as I was standing at the gate, my eyes full of tears at losing my nice little servant all on account of a fish, I saw the lady who lived across the way open her gate and come toward our house. I saw the stage stop a few doors off as she came to our gate and bowing to me said:
“Excuse me, we are strangers, but did you lose a fine trout to-day?”
She must have thought me mad, for I rushed into the house, and called: “Annie, Annie, I’ve found the fish! Now put your things back in the bureau, you silly girl.”
Then I went back and invited my neighbor in, telling her about Annie’s fright.
“Why, it was our Nero—our great dog! I was away at my mother’s or I would have brought it back, for I was sure it belonged to you. Nero must have slipped in, nabbed the fish, and brought it to our house. He laid it on the kitchen floor, as if he had done a very good deed, my girl tells me, and she, foolish thing, thought he had brought it from my mother’s, and cooked it.”
We had a hearty laugh at our stupid servants, and were great friends from that day, and I never see a picture of fish for sale, but I think of my first trout, which I prepared for dinner with such care, but never tasted. Annie never dared say “ghosts” after that, and lived with us till Dick was three years old. But there is papa, and these little girls must have a piece of cake and run home.
Transcriber's Note
The story SAILOR BABIES seems to end rather abruptly, and the poem following, PRETTY POLLY PRIMROSE, seems to start in the middle. Another copy of the book was checked and found to be the same, with no sign of a missing page, so this is probably a printing error.
The poem starting "Dick and Gray" was originally in the middle of the story THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS; the poem has been moved before that story for readability.
The second page of the story DIME AND BETTY, starting "I drive Betty to pasture every day," was obtained from a different copy of the book, which was identical in all aspects except the layout of the copyright page.
The story THE TOWER OF LONDON consistently refers to Anne Boleyn as Anna Boleyn. This has been preserved as printed.
Punctuation errors have been repaired. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation has been preserved as printed across different pieces, but made consistent within individual pieces, as follows:
IN THE WOODS—Molly amended to Mollie—"“You were mistaken, Mollie, I’m sure.”"
HOW THE DAYS WENT AT SEA-GULL BEACH—Estelle amended to Estella—"We put the pole through the handle and Estella and myself took hold ..."
DINGFORD'S BABY—Hettie amended to Hetty—"That little brother of Hetty Dingford was the funniest baby on the coast; ..."
The following amendments have also been made:
THE LAUGHING JACKASS—rellishes amended to relishes—"He relishes lizards very much, and there are plenty ..."
THE LAUGHING JACKASS—rotton amended to rotten—"She lays here egss on the rotten wood at the bottom of the hole."
TOMMY AND THE GANDER—then amended to them—"Tommy took one of them in his hands."
FAN'S CARDS—Chrisrmas amended to Christmas—"Then they all waved their cards and cried “Merry Christmas! ...”"
WHO KILLED THE GOOSE?—alway amended to always—"“People are always saying dogs do things,” ..."
MRS. GIMSON'S SUMMER BOARDERS—fricaseed amended to fricasseed—"If coffee and fricasseed chicken would not be just the thing ..."
MRS. GIMSON'S SUMMER BOARDERS—heir amended to their—"... with their graceful talk, and numberless resources of entertainment."
SMALL BEGINNINGS—close by amended to by close—"... and by close application to his studies, ..."
AUTUMN LEAVES, AND WHAT KATIE DID—thown amended to thrown—"... their leaves are thrown away, and they are empty-handed."
WAIF'S ROMANCE—presented amended to prevented—"... even if the overflowed valley had prevented her accustomed excursions; ..."
WAIF'S ROMANCE—receeding amended to receding—"... until he came to a good sized pond left by the receding waters ..."
WAIF'S ROMANCE—smuggled amended to snuggled—"... the kitten was snuggled up as close to her brute protector ..."
TWO LITTLE GIRLS—befel amended to befell—"And this is what befell;"
THE LION AT THE "ZOO"—purs amended to purrs—"... he lies down and purrs as good-naturedly as a pussy cat, ..."
The gold ornamentation on the front cover was badly damaged, and has been reconstructed as accurately as possible.
A table of contents has been added for the convenience of the reader.
The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page. Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph.