OF course after the first visit to the little lame girl’s home, Jimsi made ever and ever so many others. They not only made paper dolls and paper dolls’ furniture and paper dolls’ dresses and furnished paper dolls’ houses and had paper doll motion pictures but they did other things with their Magic Books, too.
Once, they tried kindergarten weaving with strips that they cut out of colored papers. Another time, they twisted long strips of the wall paper to make old-fashioned “lamp-lighters” for Joyce’s mother to use in lighting the fire in the fireplace. It was when they were doing this one day that, suddenly, Jimsi gave a big bounce out of her chair. She jumped up and down and up and down in the funniest excited manner, and she kept squealing delightedly, “Oh, I’ve got an idea! I’ve got an i-dea!”
“What!” exclaimed Joyce. “WHAT IS IT?”
“Um-m! Um-m!” came from the happy Jimsi. “Oh, you guess!”
“I can’t guess!”
“Oh—no, you can’t guess! You wouldn’t think of it! Oh, it’s lovely—splendid—scrum-ti-fer-ous!”
“Well, what is it?” The little lame girl was almost impatient but she was as glad as Jimsi to prolong the suspense. She knew that Jimsi was making the most of her discovery.
“It couldn’t be better if the crow had written about it,” she asserted, stopping to sit down beside the little lame girl’s table. “I’ll tell you what it is: It’s VALENTINES! It’s VALENTINES! All the beautiful fancy papers are just the thing to make valentines! Think how beautiful valentines will be when they’re made out of the flowered papers! Let’s try it! We can save the valentines till we need them—put them away in a box or, I’ll tell you what!—Why couldn’t we send them up to The Children’s Home for a valentine party? Once I went with Daddy to an entertainment at The Children’s Home. I felt as if I’d love to do something for the children there. It’s so—so very unhomelike!”
The Valentines and Cards That Were Made out of Wall Paper
“It would be splendid to do that,” agreed Joyce. “Let’s begin right away. You take your Magic Book and I’ll take mine. You can spread newspapers on the floor so we won’t make a clutter and let’s see who can make the prettiest. We’ll have a valentine exhibition afterwards and invite Miss Phoebe and the crow.”
The leaves of the magic wall paper sample books turned and turned. There were squeals of delight from Joyce and chuckles from Jimsi. “Oh, I’ve found something that will be lovely!” one would cry. “Oh, look at this!” the other exclaimed. And the little lame girl’s mother who was called to admire couldn’t tell which was the prettiest paper—you see both were lovely!
First the little lame girl found some paper that had sprays of yellow roses on it. She cut out a big heart that was figured all over with them. It really was a beautiful, beautiful valentine.
Jimsi suggested that if one were to color the edge all around with green crayon, that would give the valentine a good finish. One could use the crayon to print on the valentine too.
Then, Jimsi improved on Joyce. She folded her paper double and cut her heart out double, making the top of her valentine heart touch the crease of the paper. Her heart opened with two sides. Inside, she wrote a verse. At the top she tied ribbon bows, using some very narrow baby ribbon that she had in the paper doll box.
Joyce made valentines like it only she put pictures as well as verses inside the double heart. Some of the verses she made up. Others, she copied from old valentines that were in her scrapbook.
After they had tried all manner of heart valentines, made of plain papers, flowered papers, papers with designs, papers with figures, striped papers, cross-barred papers, they decided to try something different. Jimsi cut out a diamond-shaped figure from her paper. It was really lovely. It was a basket of daisies. The diamond was bordered with blue and Jimsi cut diamond-shaped pieces of white paper and put them at the back of the picture with a verse—the old, old verse that everybody changes. It begins:
Jimsi changed it to:
It wasn’t a very wonderful verse but it was a real valentine verse and it fitted the picture of the valentine perfectly.
After Jimsi made her diamond-shaped valentine, Joyce tried to make one. She found a cross-pattern of little rosebuds in her Magic Book. She cut the valentine out like a diamond-shaped book and put leaves in it. The leaves were tied in with ribbon. From the centre of the front of her valentine, she cut out a wee diamond in the paper and it made a most fascinating opening into which one could peep and see a picture that was pasted inside. Of course, she used the crayons to finish the edge in color. Jimsi and she discovered that the crayoning of all rims gave finish to the cards.
And so the play went on and on. They made valentines that opened square like books. They cut bunches of flowers from the wall papers that had large floral patterns and then, too, they cut out bits of wall paper shaped like baskets. These they filled with wall paper flowers and tied at the top of the basket sometimes bits of narrow baby ribbon that they had treasured for doll-play. Oh, they made a fine lot of valentines—almost fifty! It didn’t take long to make a valentine, once one had chosen a paper to use for it.
“Oh, we can make Easter cards too,” suggested Joyce, when the valentine pile was grown quite large. She started out to see what she could do. Oh, yes! One could easily cut out pretty colored Easter eggs and paste them on heavy white paper to make clusters of dyed eggs. One could cut Easter eggs that had flowers on them as one had made hearts with flowers in pattern. One could cut colored bunnies out of the paper too. To do this, Joyce used the brown and yellow and the white wall papers in her Magic Book. It was fun!
“We could make birthday cards too,” said Jimsi. “Only I won’t try it because they’d be the same as the Easter cards that just have flower patterns and open like a book.”
“We could make Hallowe’en favor cards,” Joyce cried, suddenly. And then, they began to cut out witches and cats and jack-o’lanterns. Why, one never knew what would come next! The two little girls worked away. “Just for fun, let’s see what we can do,” they agreed. So they cut hatchets for Washington’s Birthday greetings; they cut New Year’s cards and flowered Christmas cards. They cut holly leaves from green wall paper and made red berries for wreathes from the red wall paper; they cut Thanksgiving favors too!
It really isn’t possible to tell all that the two very busy little girls did do that morning. At noon when the clock struck twelve, the jolliest thing happened. The door-bell rang and when Joyce’s mother went to answer it, there on the door-step was a big market basket with a cover on it! When Joyce saw it she declared, “Well, I know that’s from Miss Phoebe’s crow!” Anybody would have known it for on top of the basket was a wee letter. The letter was addressed to Jimsi and Joyce. It read:
“Dear Friends of the Magic Book and The Happy Shop:
Picnics don’t come in winter usually but I am sending you an in-door picnic to-day. If you open the big basket you’ll find that there are some nice picnic-y things inside. This is so that Jimsi can stay with Joyce a little longer, and also so Joyce can have Jimsi a little longer.
Good-bye,
Crow.
P. S.
In the little bottle is Jimsi’s bad medicine. She doesn’t like to take it but Joyce will please see her swallow it after the picnic is over. Please ask Jimsi to bring the picnic basket home to The Happy Shop with her when it is nap-time.
C. C.”
The two little girls cleared the table of the valentines and cards. Jimsi ran about picking up stray bits of paper that had flown to remote places beyond the newspapers. Joyce arranged the things on the table. It was moved close to her chair.
My, my! Such tempting sandwiches! And such dainty paper table-cloth and napkins, and paper plates! “There’s only one thing lacking,” declared Joyce, as she laid an extra plate at one end of the table for her mother. “Miss Phoebe ought to be here too!”
“Yes, she ought,” assented Jimsi. “Aunt Phoebe and the Good Crow!”
IN the days that passed after Joyce and Jimsi made the valentines and cards, ever so many things happened. They played other things beside crow plays—checkers and dominoes and Messenger Boy games. But, after all, the Magic Book with the fun in it was best of all. Crow had written them both letters and in his last letter he had said:
“Dear Jimsi:
Find your own something to do in the Magic Book I gave you. If you think, you’ll find something more that is as jolly as valentine-making.”
Jimsi went over and over the Magic Book in The Happy Shop wondering what she could find to do with the papers. It seemed as if almost everything must have been done when paper doll dresses, paper doll furniture, cards, and motion picture play had been done!
Aunt Phoebe wouldn’t even give her a hint. “Do as the crow says, dear,” she urged. “Put on your thinking-cap!”
“But I can’t think!” declared Jimsi. “I did make up the valentines!”
“Try to find something else. The crow and I might help but we want you to have the fun of discovering all for yourself!”
But Jimsi couldn’t find anything more to do. She spent the morning looking over the papers and then she wrote a letter to the crow and put it in the mail-box.
“Dear Crow:
Your Magic Book is like a puzzle and I am not a bit good at puzzles. Please tell me something nice to do with the colored papers of the magic wall paper sample book.
Lovingly,
Jimsi.
P. S.
I enclose a pretty flower that I cut out for you from the Magic Book. I think if I had my scrapbook from home I could use these flowers for scrap-pictures to paste in it. I can’t think of anything else.”
To this letter the crow replied the next day in a little letter that Jimsi found in the mail-box. The crow’s letter said:
“Dear Jimsi:
Your suggestion about using the flower-patterns for scrapbook decorations is good. But you must puzzle longer and find still other jolly plays in your Magic Book.
Playfully,
Crow.
P. S.
I’m going to give you a perfectly splendid surprise. On Friday at four o’clock—after your nap—come to The Happy Shop and see what it is. It’s the nicest that could happen, I think.
Your play friend,
Caw Caw.
P. S.
No fair asking Aunt Phoebe to tell what the surprise is. She won’t say!”
To this Jimsi replied in another letter to the crow:
“Dear Caw Caw:
I will try to be good and I won’t tease to know what the surprise is. I hope it is candy or ice cream or something new to play with The Magic Book. If I thought you could do it, I’d wish that you’d put Mother and Henry and Katherine on a magic carpet like the one in The Arabian Nights Entertainment. But it’s no use to ask that for Henry has to go to school and Mother couldn’t come away and leave Katherine.
Lovingly your little girl,
Jimsi.
P. S.
Aunt Phoebe mustn’t think I’m homesick but I’d love to see Mother and Henry and Katherine ever so much!”
Then, having mailed this letter in the crow mail-box, Jimsi put on her cloak and cap and rubbers and went over to see Joyce. Joyce had her workbasket out and she had some bits of linen in her lap.
“Hello, Jimsi,” she greeted. “I was just wishing for you frightfully hard. The crow told me to hunt for a new amusement in the Magic Book and I found something I’m just wild to try. I think it’s going to go splendidly!”
“What is it?” Jimsi inquired. “Scrap-pictures?”
“No, not scrap-pictures! It’s nicer than scrap-pictures! Scrap-pictures aren’t anything!”
“Well, I can’t guess it,” declared Jimsi. “The crow wanted me to find something in my Magic Book, but I looked and looked and couldn’t find anything but scrap-pictures. Maybe your book is better than mine. The papers that are in your book and my book are quite different.”
“Don’t you like to do fancy-work?” inquired Joyce, suddenly changing the conversation and indicating her workbasket.
“Why, yes,” returned Jimsi. “But that can’t be done with wall paper!”
“Yes it can!” shouted the little lame girl. “I found patterns and patterns for fancy-work in my Magic Book, I did!”
“Well, well, well!” ejaculated Jimsi. “I never! Who would have thought of it! How do you find patterns for fancy-work?”
“I just look for them,” Joyce said. “You see, I was puzzle-hunting for something new to do with the Magic Book. The crow told me to use my own eyes and try to discover my own fun. I was turning the leaves of the book and all of a sudden I came to this.” The little lame girl turned the leaves of her magic wall paper book that lay on the big table beside her. “See,” she pointed, “there’s an embroidery thing to do: it’s one of those little bows with hanging ends that ladies wear at their necks to finish their collars. I could trace that all off and transfer it with carbon paper to a piece of linen and then do outline stitch of the pattern and finish the linen edge with button-hole stitch. That’s number one!”
“I could make one for Mother, couldn’t I?” said Jimsi. “Let’s both try it. You can give yours to your mother or to Aunt Phoebe. Aunt Phoebe wears those bow-things. She has ever so many in her bureau drawer. She wears them with shirtwaists.”
“Well, I haven’t finished yet about the patterns—look here,” declared Joyce, and again she turned the pages of the Magic Book and stopped at a page of colored design. “Here’s number two!”
“What is it—I don’t know. I can see that it could be a pattern for embroidery, but—Oh, yes, I do know what it is! It is a doily pattern! Isn’t it?”
“Hurrah!” sang Joyce. “You guessed! It is! All one has to do is to cut out the pattern and then take a sheet of carbon paper and transfer it to a piece of square linen. If you cut the design out larger, it can be used for a linen sofa-pillow with the four little clover things worked in each corner like the pattern in the wall paper. It would be easy embroidery—I could do it! I can’t do difficult needle-work. And, of course, if one didn’t have carbon paper or know how to use it, one could copy the design with tissue paper and trace it that way—sometimes carbon paper that one uses makes a blue spot on the cloth, if one leans on it with any pressure.”
Jimsi was looking hard at the doily pattern. “Do you know about stencils?” she asked.
“No,” replied the little lame girl. “What are they?”
“They’re designs that are cut out of stiff paper or tin or wood. You take a paint brush and paint over the openings and it makes a reproduction of the design. I think we could cut that pattern out and make a stencil pattern of it. Maybe the paper’s thick enough. Let’s try!”
“All right,” returned Joyce. “But, first, let’s see the embroidery. We can try stencils afterwards.”
Jimsi agreed. “Let’s see the rest.”
“Well, here’s number three,” indicated Joyce. “That is a cross-stitch pattern. Do you do cross-stitch? It’s easy to do. That’s the stitch they use to make pictures on samplers. You’ve seen samplers?”
“Aunt Phoebe has one in her study. It’s framed. The little girls used to work them long ago. That was the way they learned to sew—by making samplers.”
“I can show you cross-stitch,” Joyce volunteered. “You won’t even have to transfer this cross-stitch pattern. It’s quite plain even though it isn’t all little crosses in the wall paper. It would be pretty embroidered on the end of a guest-room towel. Miss Phoebe showed me one she was doing once. It had flowers on it something like these.”
“And the cluster of flowers in the wall paper might be used on something else.”
“Or one could take one’s choice.” The little lame girl reached for her tissue paper. “I’m going to try to transfer the doily pattern first. I’ll make the doily, I think. I’m going to do it and you can watch, if you like. I’ve often transferred patterns.”
The little lame girl placed her tissue paper upon the design in the wall paper and followed her pencil very carefully along the outline beneath. “One ought to use a soft pencil,” she explained. “The hard pencils don’t transfer so well.” And then she lifted the tissue paper up and showed Jimsi the design that she had taken off the wall paper in pencil. “To trace it,” she said, “all one has to do is to turn the tissue paper over and go over the outline again, placing the first pencil marks next the cloth. Then when one goes over the tissue paper’s pencil outline, the pencil marks under the point of the pencil are pressed on the cloth—and there’s your pattern!”
“Let’s try it,” Jimsi urged. “You start the doily and I’ll make the bow-thing in a pattern for Caw Caw to send Aunt Phoebe. Then I want to try stencils.”
They were both silently busy for a long time. Joyce transferred her design to a piece of white linen that her mother had given her. Jimsi labored over the neck-bow pattern that she wanted to send Aunt Phoebe in a crow letter. She copied her design on a sheet of white pad paper.
“What color shall I use to outline my design?” suddenly inquired Joyce. “It could be almost any color.”
“Why most any color,” thought Jimsi. “How about white or blue?”
“We have blue china,” mused Joyce. “I’ll do it in blue. Do you know, if I wanted to, I’d turn it into a top to put on a square pin-cushion—I could!”
The two little girls laughed. Oh, the Magic Book was proving very magic indeed! Very magic!
“Now, while you sew, I’m going to try stencils and see if I can make them out of wall paper designs. I think I can! Stencils are ever so easy to use. They’re splendid fun, if you like to paint.”
“Well, go ahead. I’ll watch.”
So Jimsi took a piece of the paper that she found in the little lame girl’s Magic Book. “It’s queer paper,” she mused, “all glossy. I think it must be the kind they use in papering kitchens and bath-rooms. It’s stiff and exactly right for stencil-cutting. You know there’s a special knife that comes to use for cutting stencils but I’m using scissors. I think this doesn’t need a knife. It’s easy to cut with scissors if you leave the edges clean-cut. I’m leaving the paper and only cutting out the form of the design.”
All the eight squares in the wall paper pattern, Jimsi cut carefully out. Next, she cut around the edge of the tulip-flower that was in the center of the pattern design. And she cut out the tulip leaves, too. “This is number four,” she laughed. “Hooray! It’s done! Now tell me where your paints are and I’ll show you something!”
The paints were in the big table drawer and Jimsi went to fetch water. She asked for a bit of blotter and the little lame girl told her where to find it.
“You have to dry your paint brush on the blotter before painting stencil designs,” explained Jimsi, “otherwise the paint runs all over. Always use a dry brush—I mean as dry as will paint!” She shook her brush at Joyce as if she were a teacher at school with a pencil trying to drum a lesson into a lazy pupil. They smiled at the fun.
“I’ll remember,” sang out the little lame girl, repeating the lesson, “‘Always use as dry a brush as possible when you’re painting water-color stencils.’ Oh, I know my lesson, teacher!”
“Pay attention!” Jimsi made believe she was frightfully severe. “Now, watch me!” She took the stencil, placed it on top of some white pad paper, passed her brush with the water-color over the stencil openings and drew the stencil off. “There!” she exclaimed, “Isn’t that fun!”
The little lame girl beamed. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’d like to try that—but why can’t you cut out your own patterns—I mean patterns that you make up out of your own head when you want to draw?”
“Well, if you can draw, you can. You see the wall paper can be used to make stencils. When I was little Mother showed me how to cut fancy cut-out designs with scissors by folding a square piece of paper over and over and then snipping bits off the edge here and there. That would make a stencil and one could cut one in wall paper like that. All one would need to do would be to paint over the openings after the paper was smoothed out flat.”
“And can you use the painted stencil patterns for anything?” inquired the little lame girl.
“Why—just like embroidery patterns,” said Jimsi. “My teacher at school taught us how to use them. We decorated lots of things like linen hand-bags, pillows and little fancy Christmas gift things. But we used oil paints. With water-color, one can stencil packages of blotters and tie them together for a gift. One can stencil paper picture-frames or letter-paper, I should think—oh, most everything.”
“The design you have there’s too big for letter paper,” Joyce objected. “Where can one find a small enough stencil for that?”
“Why, take the tulip right in the center!” laughed Jimsi.
Of course! Oh, what fun!
They tried it with some sheets of the little lame girl’s letter-paper and it was ever so pretty! And it really took no time to paint it. Hooray!
“Let’s write the crow a letter with a stencil at the top,” suggested Jimsi.
“And put your pattern in,” went on Joyce. “The one you were going to give your Aunt Phoebe.”
“Let’s write a round-robin letter: you write one sentence and then I’ll write the next!”
So they began:
“Dear Good Crow:
We both found something new in our Magic Books to-day. It was Joyce who thought of it. But Jimsi carried it further than just the embroidery patterns.
Joyce found embroidery designs that could be traced on linen or cloth. Jimsi decorated this letter-paper with the stencil she cut with wall paper.
The embroidery pattern we are sending you is from us both and came from Joyce’s Magic Book.
We send you lots of love,
Your friends,
Joyce and Jimsi.”
Joyce addressed the envelope. Jimsi drew a crow stamp up in the corner. There never could be a real crow letter without a stamp in the corner—a stamp of a black bird with a letter in his bill.
“I’ve only a few minutes before lunch,” announced Jimsi, glancing at the clock. “I won’t wait for Cinderella’s number to strike. I’ll run along and then I’ll have a chance to put this under Aunt Phoebe’s plate before she comes to the table. Good-bye, dearest! I’m so glad you discovered the stencils and the patterns.”
“No, you discovered the stencils and I discovered the patterns.”
“Well, crow will be pleased, won’t he?”
“Won’t he!”
“I wonder if crow knew there were patterns for embroidery in wall paper?”
“I wonder!”
And then Jimsi tore herself away from her friend and flung on her cloak and cap. The clock in the little lame girl’s room was just striking the hour of twelve—the hour when Cinderella had to give up her ball and run home at night, the hour when Jimsi had to give up her play and run home in the morning. She lifted her rubber in one hand and waved it before she put it on. “Cinderella’s slipper,” she smiled. “But it’s not made of glass and it isn’t going to fall off and be left for anybody to pick up!” Then she was gone.
JIMSI had been so busy that morning that I do believe she had quite forgotten the all-important surprise that the good crow promised her in the afternoon. When she came home to Aunt Phoebe’s and put the round-robin letter under Aunt Phoebe’s luncheon plate, she thought of it. “I wonder what it can be,” she mused. “Oh, I do wonder.” Then she flew upstairs to wash the paint off her hands before the bell tinkled in the hall. She had just time to brush her hair and wash up. Then she heard Aunt Phoebe’s little maid going out to ring, ding-a-ling-a-ling!
Jimsi trotted softly downstairs and peeped into the dining-room. No! Aunt Phoebe had not found the crow letter yet! She was innocent about her plate—No! she didn’t know what was under it! Jimsi almost giggled, but she covered the giggle with her napkin and made it over into a cough.
“I’m afraid you’ve taken cold,” suggested Aunt Phoebe. “Have you had that cough long—I’m sure I should have noticed it”—
“No. I haven’t any cold,” protested Jimsi, “really I haven’t, Aunt Phoebe.” Here she felt again like giggling over the letter concealed under Aunt Phoebe’s plate and had to cough again.
“Well,” declared the play aunt, “I’ll have to stop that cough! Did you wear your rubbers?”
“Honest injun!”
“It isn’t anything—just—er—er—Oh, nothing!”
“I hope so.”
The talk drifted to the morning. “What did you and Joyce find to do?” asked Aunt Phoebe.
“We embroidered and painted.”
“You always have a nice time there, don’t you, dear?”
“Yes, Aunt Phoebe.”
Jimsi wanted to tell all about it, but—how could she till after Aunt Phoebe found the crow letter. She waited. After what seemed a long time, the little maid changed the plates and lo—why there was a letter right under Aunt Phoebe’s plate!
“Oh, the mischief,” laughed Aunt Phoebe, “I do believe the crow has been here! Jimsi, was that why you were coughing, you sinner! I think you must have seen the crow leave it. Well, you wait! There’s a surprise coming to you, young lady!” And she tore open the letter. “I’ll read it to you, aloud, Jimsi,” she said. “Shall I?”
It was part of crow play to pretend one hadn’t any knowledge at all of having been the one to write crow letters that one saw afterwards. So Jimsi listened to the round-robin as Aunt Phoebe soberly read it and exclaimed how very lovely the note-paper was. When she came to the pattern, she was really delighted. “How clever of the crow,” she laughed. “I was wanting a new embroidery pattern and here the thoughtful crow has brought it. How kind of him!” She said she was going to transfer it to some linen right away. She was so interested that they went to look over Jimsi’s Magic Book to see if there were embroidery patterns and stencil designs in that as well as in the little lame girl’s book.
Yes, there were. The two of them became so interested that nap-time almost passed. A whole fifteen minutes went by without either Aunt Phoebe or Jimsi’s knowing it. When the little desk clock gave a faint chime of two Aunt Phoebe jumped. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed. “I must be off. Oh, Jimsi, how could you let me stay! Oh, you didn’t know—well, run right upstairs and take that nap and don’t come down till half-past three, remember!” With that Aunt Phoebe dashed into her cloak and hat. “I had a most important engagement to meet somebody! Oh, dear!” And she was gone.
Jimsi walked upstairs and took off her dress and put on her kimono. As her hand snuggled under her pillow, it met something long and hard. Jimsi grasped it and drew forth—a crow present! It was a stick of peppermint candy. She couldn’t go to sleep at first. She lay there with the peppermint stick wondering what the crow’s splendid surprise was going to be. She couldn’t guess at all. Finally, she remembered that she was honor-bound to go to sleep. Of course, one can’t always go to sleep when one wants to, but Jimsi began to try hard. She covered her head with the comforter and cuddled into a more cosy position. She shut her eyes and then, the first thing she knew, Aunt Phoebe was bending over her saying, “Wake up, Jimsi! Wake up! You’ve had an extra long nap and crow has been to The Happy Shop and left you a surprise!”
So Jimsi jumped into her dress and tore down the front stairs two steps at a time. Oh, she knew it was going to be a splendid surprise—perfectly splendid! But she really wasn’t expecting the kind of a surprise that awaited her, for as she opened the doors of The Happy Shop who should pop up from behind a screen but Mother and Henry and little sister Katherine! Oh, Oh!
What a hugging there was! Why, they had to hug twice around and even Henry, who didn’t like to be kissed, seemed so happy to see Jimsi that he had to kiss her, too! How lovely and how lovely and how lovely! Oh, what fun! Now, Mother and Henry and Jimsi’s little sister could all see The Happy Shop and help find play in the Magic Book. Hadn’t Jimsi just been longing to have them all right there! Hadn’t she written them long letters about it! Oh, this was almost too good to be true!
“But how did you happen to come?” inquired Jimsi. “Doesn’t Henry have to go to school?”
“Well, we all wanted to see our Jimsi,” Mother explained. “I couldn’t come without Katherine, and Henry wanted to see you so badly that I decided one day out of school wouldn’t hurt if he made up the work. So you can show us the crow plays and the Magic Book, Jimsi!”
“I want to see Crow!” urged little sister Katherine. So Jimsi took them to the shelf in Aunt Phoebe’s study where her big crow perched on the twig. The shelf was so high that baby Katherine thought the crow was really alive. He didn’t look stuffed. Even Henry was almost deceived. “Isn’t he really true?” he kept asking.
“Of course he’s true,” returned Jimsi. “Haven’t we always played crow ever since we can remember?”
But she didn’t refer to Aunt Phoebe’s crow as just a stuffed crow. He was a play crow, you know. There is a great distinction, even though you may not know it.
Henry wasn’t interested in paper dolls or paper doll furniture. But Katherine was. Henry sniffed. “Oh, I don’t care for Magic Books that make paper dolls,” but Katherine wanted to look at them all. So did Mother. Finally, Mother decided to take Katherine over to the couch and let Jimsi and Henry play the shadow motion pictures—at least examine them. Katherine sat on a stool beside Mother, and Mother watched to see that no paper dolls were torn by clumsy little fingers that didn’t know how easily paper tears.
Aunt Phoebe had brought her fancy work pattern down to show Mother. She had a work-basket and was prepared to start her fancy work.
Oh, but wasn’t this splendid!
They had afternoon tea out in The Happy Shop, too. Jimsi and Henry and Katherine had cocoa—but Mother and Aunt Phoebe had tea, and the Good Crow had to be brought in and put close to the tea-table. Aunt Phoebe talked for him as she had on the night of Jimsi’s arrival. And the crow always said, “Caw-caw,” when he was addressed by any member of the circle. He was a beautiful play crow. Katherine would have liked to kiss him, but kissing him as hard as Katherine kissed would hurt, Aunt Phoebe explained. She let the baby stroke the glossy plumage and say, “Pretty, pretty!” (You know an ordinary crow isn’t exactly pretty, but his plumage is a beautiful satiny black—all glossy. And Jimsi insisted that Caw Caw was beautiful.)
Henry said he didn’t think Caw Caw was pretty, but he thought the crow was good, all right. Henry, you see, was ever so interested in the motion pictures crow had invented, and he had to fix all the different plays that Jimsi had cut out and arrange the scenery on the motion picture screen. He thought this the greatest amusement. He wanted to try the play with a candle. Jimsi and he went off to a dark corner to work the motion pictures and they played Alice in Wonderland and made the White Rabbit run about in a most realistic way. Then, before they knew it was so late, they were called to dinner. How time does fly!
Just when they had finished dinner and desert was being served, Henry happened to look up at the crow perched on the shelf where Aunt Phoebe had put him—and if the crow didn’t have a letter in his bill!
“Why, look-look!” exclaimed Henry. “Look!” There was nothing to do, once having seen it, but to jump up from the table right then and there to go get that letter.
It proved to be a letter to Henry. He read it aloud.