Chapter XII: Part 12

“‘Oh, my love,’ said Mrs. Fox. ‘Well, we still have some chicken left, and to-morrow you’ll just have to find a new market—that’s all!’”

OCTOBER 1: Gypsy, the Cat

“Gypsy was a cat,” said daddy, “who had been so named because she had been picked up one night when she was all alone, and when she certainly looked as if she had had no home for weeks and months. She certainly looked as if she had led a gypsy’s life—wandering and homeless, and she seemed happy indeed to be taken by little Marian to her nice warm house.

“Marian got home just before dinner time. ‘Ah,’ she thought to herself, ‘Gypsy will have a nice dinner—not just a meal she has had to pick up as best she could. It will be a real meal, and she will have her milk in a fine saucer.

“‘I have brought a cat home,’ said Marian to her mother. ‘I have named her Gypsy as she is a poor little waif cat, quite homeless and friendless.’

“Right away Gypsy was given a nice warm bowl of milk. And then Marian’s family sat down for their dinner.

“Gypsy sat upon a bookcase. ‘Maybe she thinks she looks wise,’ said Marian. And Gypsy blinked her eyes and purred as if to say, ‘I am a wise cat. I know I have a good home. And I have the sense to look happy.’

“While Marian and her family were eating Gypsy would look at them from time to time, but every time any of them turned to look at her, she would put her head to one side and look off into space. She seemed to be saying, ‘Maybe I have been a waif but I’m very proud. And I will not appear to be a beggar.’

“So from that day on, Gypsy always had some milk before Marian began her dinner. She never begged for food, for she was a Gypsy cat with a great deal of pride!”

OCTOBER 2: The Make-Believe Elephant

“Lucy,” said daddy, “had her home in a big city apartment house.”

“Down in the main hallway, on a stand there, was an elephant. Not a real elephant, for of course a real elephant could hardly find room on a hallway stand, to say the least. This one was made out of stone and he was exactly the same color as a real, live elephant.

“Now often Lucy would come in from dancing class, or from play, or from school, and she would wonder what it would be like to be a stone elephant, and she used to feel very sorry for the elephant, always standing in the hall.

“‘I know,’ she would say, ‘that the elephant isn’t a real, live one, but just the same, it does seem funny to be always in the same place, day after day.’

“And then one evening when Lucy was asleep the Dream King sent the elephant to call on her.

“‘I know,’ the elephant began, without even waiting for Lucy to make a curtsy as she might have done if he had only given her time, ‘that you have often wondered about me.’

“‘I have,’ said Lucy, ‘it is true.’

“‘But,’ said the elephant, ‘you mustn’t, for I am very happy. The reason I am happy is because I haven’t the brains or the feelings to be unhappy because I am always in one place.

“‘If I were a real elephant I would want to go out in the sunshine, I would want to eat, I would even want to play baseball; perhaps I would march in parades. But I’m not a real elephant—I’m only a make-believe one, and I haven’t any feeling at all—no, not a scrap of feeling.

“‘And I haven’t any brains. I couldn’t even smile at you if you were awake. It’s the old Dream King who is helping me to smile now.’

“And Lucy noticed that the elephant was smiling, such a funny, droll, stone-elephant smile.

“‘No, Lucy,’ the elephant continued, ‘you need never feel sorry for me because I am always in one place. I am like a table or a chair or a bed—except I am made in the shape of an animal.

“‘It is nice to be a stone elephant if one has always been one,’ it said, ‘and I suppose it is nice to be a little girl if one has always been one,’ and it waved its trunk and was gone.”

OCTOBER 3: Canary Cloudy Wings

“Cloudy Wings thought he would like to see the world,” said daddy. “He had always had a good deal of freedom but he thought he would like more.

“So this little canary flew out of a window. He wandered about and flew from bush to bush. Soon it began to rain.

“Cloudy Wings stood under the tree but the rain dripped down over his little body and his bright yellow feathers were all wet.

“‘Oh, how cold it is,’ thought Cloudy Wings to himself. ‘I can’t shake off this water as I do my bath water, because it all comes on me again. And my little Master always puts me in the sun to dry after my bath. If there is no sun I am put near a stove or where I can slowly get good and dry. This is awful!’ And he gave miserable little sounds.

“Of course in the meantime, McLean, his Master, was almost frightened out of his poor wits. What could have happened to Cloudy Wings? He saw that a window had been left open, and he knew the bird must have gone out. He kept the window open hoping Cloudy Wings would come back, and he sat by the open window, shivering in the dampness, saying to himself, and trying hard to keep back the tears:

“‘Oh Cloudy Wings, come back! I want you so! Please come back, Cloudy Wings!’

“Poor Cloudy Wings, wet and miserable, saw a round glass house, and beat his wings against the panes of glass.

“An old man was inside looking after his flowers, for the glass house was a conservatory of flowers and plants. When he saw the poor little wet bird he opened the door and took him in. Cloudy Wings sat in his warm hands while the old man smoothed and dried the little wet feathers.

“‘You belong to the little boy down the road,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ve seen you in the window. I always could tell you by your gray wings.’ So back in the old man’s pocket Cloudy Wings went to his Master, and never again did he leave his home.”

OCTOBER 4: The Abused Pencil

“A boy named Gerald,” said daddy, “was finding it very hard to do his lessons. School had commenced and yet the days were so lovely it was hard to study.

“He could not draw a map and he was supposed to have one drawn for the next day. He found it so hard to remember just how the places looked on the map and he was supposed to do it from memory.

“He gave up trying the map after a few moments. Then he sat and chewed the end of his pencil. Perhaps in a moment or two he would think of all the places he was supposed to mark.

“He decided he would do his arithmetic but he could not manage the sums. They were all so extremely hard. Much worse than they had been in the spring, though in reality they were a little easier. The teacher had known the children had had a long summer and it would take them a little time to get back into their work.

“He tried to do the sums but couldn’t. What a pity the book had no answers in the back! And he began to chew the end of his pencil again while he tried to think.

“Before long he felt he could not do his lessons for he was too tired and they were entirely too hard. He was dreadfully afraid he would be put back with the boys a year younger than he was, and yet he couldn’t do such difficult lessons.

“How ashamed he would be to be put back! Oh dear, what could he do? He must simply tell the teacher the lessons were too hard. But then he felt sure she would tell him to go back into a class where they were easier.

“He put his head down on his arms. The soft autumn breeze was blowing. It had been a warm day and two bumble-bees were buzzing and talking very near him. They were having some sort of a talk about the sweetness of the honey in the honeysuckle vine.

“Just then he saw his pencil. The end of it was wrapped up in cotton wool and gauze.

“‘Gracious, pencil, what is the matter?’ asked Gerald.

“‘I shouldn’t think you would ask me what is the matter,’ said the pencil as it squeaked in a sad little voice.

“‘Why not?’ asked Gerald. But the moment he had asked the question he knew the answer.

“The pencil answered him just the same. ‘You know I am to do your work. I will work but I must be guided and directed. I cannot think. A pencil is not supposed to think. A boy is supposed to do that. I merely write down what you think is correct, and goodness only knows I often feel very badly when I have to write down all sorts of wrong answers.

“‘And when I won’t think for you,’ continued the pencil, ‘this is the way you abuse me. Think! Don’t bite me to pieces. And I’ll tell you another thing. You may bite me in two, but never, never will I do your thinking for you. I am not supposed to and I won’t.’ The pencil was certainly very emphatic, Gerald thought, and he decided he would not argue with it.

“‘I was a lovely red pencil with black lead,’ the pencil continued, in an injured tone, ‘and now I am all bitten to pieces. One of my ends is almost useless, and I will break when the lead is used very much further. Oh, dear! And I was such a nice pencil!’ It sighed and seemed very mournful.

“Just at that moment the cotton wool came off the pencil and Gerald saw that he had been sleeping. The pencil had been badly bitten, but Gerald, now wide awake, put his mind to his studying, and found the lessons were not so hard after all!”

OCTOBER 5: The Onions

“We are far more useful than you are,” said the seeds of the lettuce which were just peeping above the ground in a box, showing their little green heads. They were in a schoolroom.

“I can’t help that,” said the geranium plant. “I was never meant to be useful. I try to be bright and cheerful. I wish I could be useful but every one can’t be just the same as every one else. Neither can plants all be the same. Vegetables can’t be plants and plants can’t be vegetables. But we all have our own reasons for being here.”

“I don’t see,” said one of the onions. They were very small but were also coming up in a box of their own. And after the onion had said that, it kept quite still just as if it had completely finished talking.

“You commenced to say something,” said the lettuce. “Why not finish?”

“Sometimes I get too discouraged to finish,” said the onion. “We all feel that way at times.”

“And why?” asked the lettuce.

“For you it is different, little lettuce leaves,” said the onion. “You are a salad when you grow up. You are considered a luxury and a treat.”

“Don’t people enjoy eating you?” asked the lettuce.

“Yes,” said the onion, “they often enjoy eating us. But they won’t give us any praise for it. They eat us when they’re off by themselves as if they were a little ashamed of eating us.

“I have often heard folks say,” continued the onion, “‘Oh, I am ashamed to admit it, but I do like fried onions.’ Then another will say, ‘Just imagine, little Freddy likes to eat raw onions when they are small.’ Oh, things like that cut us so,” said the onion. “We like to be eaten. All vegetables do, but we would like to be appreciated.”

“If you weren’t appreciated and liked,” said the lettuce politely, “you wouldn’t be planted and grown. They use you all the time—to season food and to make things have a nice taste.”

“Ah,” said the onion, which was doing all the talking for the family, “that is true. But listen to what they always say. They explain that they like to put a little onion in the soup—not so the soup will taste of onion—oh, mercy, no—but just to give it a little flavor. That is what we do. We flavor many a dish, but we don’t get the credit. Life is full of trials,” ended the onion.

OCTOBER 6: Trixie’s Burglar

“It was night time and Trixie the parrot,” said daddy, “had her head under her wing. Sometimes she slept this way, just as a canary bird would sleep. But often she would huddle up on her perch and doze off with her head drooping down a little on her chest.

“All of the family were asleep when Trixie seemed to hear in her dream a strange sound. She pulled her head from under her wing and looked about her with sleepy eyes.

“Did she see some one way off in the corner? Trixie was frightened. She did not quite know why. She was never frightened of people, but this person stayed where it was so dark, and did not light a light—only a little one that flashed quickly and went right out again.

“When her master came downstairs late at night, he always turned on the light. But Trixie thought she had better be polite. This was probably some very queer guest and she must be nice, for all the family were asleep.

“‘Hello,’ said Trixie. The man grumbled to himself. ‘He didn’t answer me,’ thought Trixie. ‘I must speak again.’ And this time she shrieked, ‘Hello.’

“‘Will you keep quiet?’ said the man in a frightened, low voice.

“‘No,’ answered Trixie, ‘never still.’ Now Trixie had said this in a very loud voice, and from upstairs Trixie’s master heard the parrot. ‘She never says that except when some one is here,’ he said, and he went downstairs.

“As he reached the room where the parrot was he saw a man hurrying off—hurrying off before he had had a chance to get anything, for he had spent his time since Trixie had spoken putting a large coat over the parrot’s cage.

“The window had been left open and a burglar had come in, but Trixie, the parrot, had been the cause of his going out.”

OCTOBER 7: An Autumn Party

“A trumpet sounded through the woods,” said daddy, “and then the voice of Mr. Giant was heard saying, ‘Come, all the fairies, to the bonfire party. Come, brownies; come, elves; come, gnomes; come, bogeys; come, goblins; and come, Witty Witch!’

“At that all the creatures came flying and running and rushing to the bonfire party. The invitations were delivered by Mr. Wind to those who were any distance away. They told stories, they sang, and they ate roasted corn. And later on, when Mr. Moon had come up to see what was going on, they danced. And how like fairyland they all did look, for they all wore gorgeous costumes of the early autumn colors.”

OCTOBER 8: A Little Dog

“A little black dog named Soot,” said daddy, “was out for a scamper when he saw out in the lake, far out from the shore, an upturned canoe and two girls trying to swim with all their clothes on to the shore. They could swim—yes, but how long could they keep it up?

“Oh, dear, how badly Soot did feel to be so small. He could not rescue them. He was so very tiny. But he had a voice and he could run on his little legs. So back into the village he tore as fast as he could, barking, barking, barking.

“He ran to some men and he stood around them barking and jumping up and down; his little face looking very sad and worried.

“‘Something must be wrong,’ said one of the men. ‘Let’s go and see. This dog never acts like this as a rule.’ Soot led them down by the water and there they saw the upturned boat and the two girls trying so hard to swim to shore. The men rushed to one of the boat houses on the shore of the lake. Everything had been closed up, for the boating season was almost over and very few people went out in the autumn. The men broke open a boat house and they took a launch out into the lake. They just reached the two girls in time. In another three minutes they could not have kept up any longer. They had called for help but the wind had carried their voices in another direction, and the only one who had seen them was Soot, their real rescuer!”

OCTOBER 9: Alta’s Guinea Pigs

“Now, there were two guinea pigs which were quite big. They were the mother and daddy guinea pigs. And there were three smaller guinea pigs. They were the children, of course,” explained daddy, “and they all belonged to a pretty little girl named Alta.

“It was night-time, and Alta was sound asleep. And as it was winter-time, the guinea pigs were in the box in Alta’s room.

“The guinea pigs were all asleep, too, when they heard a scratching on their box. First Daddy Guinea Pig opened his eyes.

“‘What is it you want?’ he asked.

“‘Don’t be afraid,’ said a low voice. ‘I’m Peter Gnome. I’ve come to call on you. I won’t hurt you. I think you are all very nice. And your children, sir, are lovely.’

“That pleased Daddy Guinea Pig so much that he invited Peter Gnome to look at the children and to play with them. Mother Guinea Pig was awake now, and as Peter Gnome gently took the little guinea pigs in his hands, one by one, they squealed sleepily and seemed no more than little round bits of fuzz.

“First Peter Gnome would stroke one guinea pig and then another, and he told the daddy and mother that he simply could not make up his mind which was the loveliest.

“That delighted the proud parents, for they had never been able to decide themselves.

“‘Did you feel like eating the children when they were very young, Mr. Guinea Pig?’ asked Peter Gnome.

“‘Feel like eating my own children?’ he squealed in such a loud voice that Peter was very much afraid Alta would awaken.

“‘Well, there are many creatures who do,’ said Peter Gnome. ‘I only asked because I wanted to know and I heard you did.’

“‘Well, now you know,’ said Daddy Guinea Pig, ‘that I do not eat my children when they are young or old. I most certainly do not. I love them from the first day up, and more all the time.’

“‘He does, indeed,’ said Mother Guinea Pig. ‘He is a great help to me. He is an unusual Guinea Pig.’

“‘He is devoted to us,’ squealed the little guinea pigs.

“‘I’m so glad to hear it,’ said Peter Gnome. ‘You’ll forgive the question?’

“‘To be sure,’ said Daddy Guinea Pig, who was calm again now. ‘Of course there are guinea pigs and other creatures who do such things, but I’m not one of them. Never, never, never!’

“‘I’m honored to have met you, sir,’ said Peter Gnome, ‘and your family is wonderful.’ So off he hurried, throwing behind him a piece of cabbage leaf and saying to himself what a lovely family of guinea pigs they were.”

OCTOBER 10: A Devoted Dog

“Bobbie was a small fox terrier. He was black and white,” said daddy. “Or perhaps I had better say he had a white body with black spots.

“He belonged to a little girl named Lily and he was very, very fond of her.

“One day Lily’s mother said: ‘How would you like to visit your cousins?’ Lily thought it would be splendid. On the following day the trunk was brought down from the attic to be packed. Bobbie saw it and knew that he was not going to be taken on the trip. If he had been going too, Lily would have acted very differently.

“He sat by the trunk and cried! And all day long he wouldn’t move. Early the next morning the trunk was carried away to the depot by an expressman, and poor Bobbie howled.

“Lily kissed his little black-spotted ears and she, too, cried but her cousins did not want Bobbie brought too.

“After Lily had left the house Bobbie would not be comforted. He would not eat, and all day long he would look up the road to see if Lily was coming. The next night there was a sudden scamper and a wild bound. For far away Bobbie had heard the sounds of wheels and he felt Lily was there. Yes, she had come right home. She had missed her Bobbie. And never again were they apart.”

OCTOBER 11: A Bird’s Secret

“The Fairy Wondrous Secrets told me to talk to you when you were asleep,” said the canary to his little mistress Cora.

“Then tell me how it is you can get along without teeth,” said Cora.

“My beak takes the place of teeth,” the canary explained. “It is very sharp, and I can eat all I want.

“When you see me at the cuttlefish and the sugar, I am really sharpening my beak—just as though it were a knife. Now that is something creatures cannot do with teeth. Whoever heard of people sharpening their teeth?

“But that is what we do all the time with our beaks—we birds. Yes, we also sharpen our beaks on the bars in our cages. And the birds outside find plenty of tools for sharpening. We are never bothered about eating anything we wish to have. If we feel like it we sharpen up in time and then how we do enjoy our food.”

OCTOBER 12: Columbus Day

October twelfth is not celebrated as a holiday because it was the day when Christopher Columbus was born, but because it was supposed to be the date upon which Columbus first stood upon the ground which forms a part of the continent of America. The exact date of his birth is not known nor the exact place.

Columbus took many voyages in his life-time; he discovered many islands and made for himself a great and lasting name in history, but he never knew he had discovered a new continent! Always he thought that those places he had touched were parts of Asia.

And it seems quite sad to think of the times we’ve been applauded (and often, very justly too!) when we’ve recited well or played the piano well, while Christopher Columbus, who discovered America, did not even know of the great deed that he had done. Never had he any realization that in a new continent they would erect monuments to him, nor that in schools they would give pageants about his trip, his discouragements, his successes.

And his little son Diego, whom Queen Isabella made a page at the Spanish Court, could not boast to the others and say,

“My father has discovered a new continent, which is more than can be said for most fathers, and most people for that matter!”

For neither did little Diego know; and it has always seemed such a pity. It would have been so splendid a thing for any little boy to have been able to say!

OCTOBER 13: The Camels

“It always strikes folks as funny,” said Sophia Camel, “that we look our best in the winter time and not in the summer time when the zoo is filled with people and when so many come to ride us.

“But we don’t care about our looks. We have our family ways. And one of our family ways is to molt our hair after the long winter is over.

“We can’t change our ways to suit people, even if we would like to change them.”

“We can’t, indeed,” said Sally Camel. “And though they may think it a pity we don’t dress up in the summer time they will have to take us as they find us and be satisfied.”

OCTOBER 14: A Naughty Cat

“Jota, the cat,” said daddy, “was always complaining. First Jota would leave her milk as if she didn’t like it at all and then she would upset her little dish filled with bacon.

“There was really nothing in the world the matter with Jota except that she had been spoiled.

“‘I have some nice milk for you to-day,’ said the cook. ‘It has just come and it is good and warm.’

“Now Jota was thinking of the mice she had heard scampering in the cellar. She didn’t want the milk. She would much rather have mice. And when cook lifted her up and carried her to the corner of the kitchen where she had put the bowl of milk, Jota scratched as well as snarled.

“Oh, how badly the cook did feel! Not because the scratch was such a bad one. No, that amounted to very little, but she felt so hurt that Jota could have scratched her. She had always been so good to Jota.

“Jota hurried to the cellar. Yes, now she smelt the mice! Ah, what a scamper she would have. She did not want milk. No, she would have mice. She sprang for a mouse. What! It had vanished. Then she tried for another as it was hurrying across the floor. She missed the second one. She tried to catch three others and each time she missed them.

“Jota for once in her life was thoroughly and absolutely ashamed of herself. She had not been able to catch the mice and she had once been famous for her powers as a mouse catcher.

“Yes, she had grown lazy and useless. She had been stupid too. That was all because she had not been unselfish and nice, but had been horrid to every one. And it had spoiled her. She could not catch mice!

“Jota was a very sad cat as she slowly climbed the cellar stairs. She went back into the kitchen and there she drank the milk she had been so rude and horrid about before.

“‘Oh, you were thirsty after all,’ said the kind cook. Jota purred and jumped into the cook’s lap, trying to say:

“‘I know I have been horrid but please forgive me now.’”

OCTOBER 15: The Chipmunks

“The chipmunks were having a fine time the other day,” said daddy. ‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ said old Father Chipmunk to the younger ones. ‘We want all the nuts we can get for the winter. There will be a long, long, time to eat, and we must hunt now.’

“Mother Chipmunk was down in her hole in the ground. The squirrels always have their homes in the holes of trees but the chipmunks like the ground better. She was teaching all the very little ones that they must only drink dew-drops. For they are like the rabbit family, and think that water which has touched the ground is very dangerous to drink. They will only drink fresh dew-drops and rain water from leaves and flowers.

“All the little chipmunks hurried and scurried about, and pretty soon Father Chipmunk said, ‘I will offer a prize for the one who gets the greatest number of nuts. Hurry, scurry!’

“Chippy Chappy won the prize. ‘It is a house I made out of nuts—a nice little house of special kinds of nuts,’ said Father Chipmunk, ‘and Chippy Chappy can eat a room whenever he feels hungry! But now, all of you hurry, and hide your nuts!’ And off they scampered to their little homes with their winter food.”

OCTOBER 16: The Fairies’ Trip

“The queen of the fairies said,” began daddy, “‘I have a scheme. We will visit the clouds.’

“At that the loveliest airships appeared. They looked almost like clouds themselves, so filmy and white were they.

“So off they sailed, feeling just like birds with the delightful flying motion of the ships. And up to the silvery clouds they went. When they got in the clouds the cloud fairies—you know there are fairies who live in the clouds all the time—took them all around and showed them their homes. And such homes as they have! They have the most marvelous palaces, with courtyards and exquisite scenery all about. They have tall mountains where they always go for their parties. Everything is such a beautiful color too, for the cloud fairies are very fond of pale grays and blues and silver.

“Then the fairies from the woods suggested to the cloud fairies that they should return their visit and come to earth.

“‘We would love to do that,’ said the cloud fairies. So off they began to fly from the clouds. They needed no airships but do you know what happened?

“As they began to drop great big drops of rain fell to the earth, and then the heaviest kind of a rainstorm began for the earth people, for of course when the cloud fairies move the rain is not held any more and it falls to the earth.

“But the fairies from the woods didn’t mind, as the big trees always protect them, and the cloud fairies only let the rain fall where there were no trees. So the afternoon was one of greatest pleasure for both the wood fairies and the cloud fairies.”

OCTOBER 17: The Lion Babies

“I have a true circus story to tell you this evening,” said daddy.

“It’s to be a strange story, because it is to be about a mother dog who looked after some lion babies.”

“A mother dog who looked after lions?” shouted the children.

“Yes,” said daddy, “and you remember I said it was true.

“One time in the circus a mother Lioness grew very, very sick.

“‘I am afraid she will not live,’ said the Keeper.

“‘But whatever will happen to her dear little Lion Babies?’ asked another man.

“‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said the Keeper. ‘We will just have to do the best we can. I have watched her with them a good deal and perhaps I can look after them.’

“‘She is so fond of them,’ said the other man. ‘What a pity it is she can’t live.’

“The Lioness seemed to know she could not live. Over and over again she kissed her little Lion Babies with her tongue. And when she opened her mouth, her great, cruel teeth could be seen—but the little babies didn’t know their mother had teeth—so gentle was she with them.

“And the Lion Babies nestled close to their mother, and by the little, soft growls they made, they were trying to say, ‘How we love you, mother! Your fur is so warm, so soft. You are so good to us, mother. How we love you!’

“And then the Lioness held them closer. And with one of her paws which could have crushed and killed a creature if she had so wished, she fondled and petted her babies.

“Slowly as she talked to them in her low, growling way, she began to see ahead. Her eyes gazed far out of the bars of her cage.

“‘What will happen to my babies when I am not here to look after them?’ she was thinking. Her eyes stared and stared into space—beyond the people who passed by every little while to watch the beautiful mother Lioness and the little Lions.

“And she began to think so hard that she almost forgot her babies. She was searching with her eyes way, way out into an unknown world, and wondering, wondering all the time what would happen to her lovely brood.

“The Lion babies nestled closer. Mother was letting the cold in! And again she fondled them, while from her eyes that so often looked treacherous and wicked, great tears fell down on their soft, warm fur.

“The next morning when the Lion Babies woke up there was no mother Lioness. They couldn’t imagine what had happened. They saw the big man always around their cage, feeding them, talking to them in soft, kind tones, but their lovely warm, soft, furry mother, where was she?

“The day went on and still she didn’t come! Oh, such miserable little Lion Babies as they were! The Keeper did all he could for them—but he couldn’t feed them anything to take away that queer feeling they had. For it wasn’t hunger—it was loneliness! And the Lion Babies found that no food filled that place!

“But the next morning when the Keeper came to look at the Lion Babies, there outside the cage was the big, woolly sheep dog. She was licking the paws of the Lion Babies and they were once again giving their low growls.

“When the dog saw the Keeper she jumped up and down as if to say, ‘Let me care for the Lion Babies.’

“The Keeper saw that the Lion Babies were quite gentle with the dog, and he seemed to know that they wanted to be together—so he let the dog in the cage.

“Day after day the dog stayed with the Lion Babies, except when she came out now and again for a run. And the dog brought up the little lions—and when they were big enough for the circus they always had the dog with them.”

OCTOBER 18: Max’s Escape

“A little dog,” said daddy, “was one of five beautiful puppies living in the country with a very proud and happy mother.

“But, sad to tell, it was not very long before the mother dog heard her master saying to a friend of his, ‘I simply cannot keep so many dogs. There is no room for them—not even here in the country. You see I have as many animals now as I can possibly manage.’

“‘Well,’ said the friend, ‘I will take a puppy for you. I can keep one easily in our city house. There is plenty of room. I will take the little white one with the brown right ear.’

“So the little dog named Max was taken to the city. He was dreadfully homesick and one day when he was being taken for a walk led by a leash he escaped.

“Such adventures as he had. He remembered the trip he had taken with his new master. First they had gone on a ferry boat across some water—and then on a train. So Max ran and ran until he reached the railroad station. He got through the gate when the guard wasn’t looking and he jumped up into the baggage car just as the train was pulling out.

“On and on he rode until he saw some water and a great boat—just like the one he had been on before. What should he do? Jump? The train was going fast, but it stopped where the ferry boats were. And so Max reached home and his mother—and somehow or other room was made for him by his first master.”

OCTOBER 19: The Fire Bell

“In a big city school,” said daddy, “there were several thousand children. Pretty soon the school bell rang and all the children went to their different classrooms.

“They had not been there long when a great bell sounded through the school. It was different from the usual school bell which brought them to their lessons, and it filled them all with fear. The teachers looked frightened too, but they were all very quiet.

“‘March out, slowly, in single file,’ said the teacher of each classroom. ‘There! A little faster, but no shoving. We must all see how calm we can be. It is only when we become frightened that there is danger.’ And in this way every one tried to be calm, even though every one felt so nervous.

“For the bell had been a fire bell. And they had all known it. Soon every single one of the children was out in the big courtyard and they had at last reached the street. The teachers were all out too, for they had all ‘kept their heads’ as the saying is.”

OCTOBER 20: The Rain

“We heard some people talking and they made us very angry,” said the Rain Drops. “They said, ‘Oh, it’s raining cats and dogs.’ And we would never rain cats and dogs, never, never, never, at any time at all.”

The King of the Clouds laughed hard. “Well do I remember when it used to make me mad when people said those things,” he chuckled. “People often talk in that foolish way.”

“Whatever do they mean by it?” asked the Rain Drops.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

“Then they don’t imagine we will really rain cats and dogs?” asked the Rain Drops.

“They know you really won’t,” said the King of the Clouds. “When they say that you are raining cats and dogs they mean that you are raining very hard and furiously.”

“But, Cloud King,” said the Rain Drops, “there were some other people and they said that it was raining pitchforks. Now can you imagine us doing that? We wouldn’t rain pitchforks for anything. They’d hurt people and children and animals, and while we do love to splash and have our jokes, still we would never do anything mean such as rain pitchforks.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said the King of the Clouds. “They say that in just the same way as they say it is ‘raining cats and dogs.’ That also simply means it’s raining very, very hard. So go back and play.” And the Rain Drops were much relieved.

OCTOBER 21: Grandfather Pine Tree

Two little pine trees had been planted by two big ones. They were so tiny, and the two big ones known as Grandfather and Grandmother Pine Tree were very, very tall, even for pine trees.

“We seem so tiny,” said the little pine trees. “Will we ever grow to be as tall as you are?” And they tried to lift up their heads and see the tops of the big pines, but it was almost impossible.

“Listen,” whispered Grandfather Pine Tree. “You will surely grow to be tall, so do not get discouraged. And more than that, you will be happy. You will be awake all the time. You will see what I have seen each year.

“There will be snow soon and then there will be the springtime, when the flowers will peep above the ground and will say a good morning to all the world, and the leaves will follow the blossoms on the trees.

“Then will follow the warm summer and the children from the white house down yonder will bring old rugs and books, and will come up under us. They know we’ll keep them cool.

“You must grow to be strong and tall and you’ll find that it’s one of the most interesting of things in the world to be a pine tree. And most especially, to be a pine tree here on this hill overlooking the garden and the white house where two children, a little boy and a little girl, are always happy—all the year around, just as we are, in the winter, spring, summer and autumn.”

And the two small pine trees decided they would try their hardest to grow and see as many lovely things as their grandfather and grandmother saw each year.

OCTOBER 22: Jack Frost’s Evening

“Jack Frost, and the Frost Brothers,” said daddy, “were off for a good time. ‘We’ll have the most wonderful party,’ said Jack Frost.

“‘What will we do?’ asked the Frost Brothers. They were always ready to do anything Jack suggested, but they never thought of the things to do first.

“‘We’ll celebrate,’ said Jack Frost.

“‘What will we celebrate for?’

“‘Because the wind has gone to sleep and we can do our work in peace. Oh, such work as we’ll do!’

“‘First you say we’ll have a celebration, and then you say we’ll work. Whatever do you mean, Jack Frost?’

“‘I mean,’ he said cheerily, ‘that we’ll have both a celebration and that we’ll do wonderful work too. For work and play are all the same to me. I feel like singing a song about it.’ And off he started singing, dancing around as he sang these words:

I’m so happy, I’m so gay,
I like to work, I like to play.
Whichever it is I do not mind,
So long as the wind is still and kind.

“They put many of the flowers to sleep for the winter. Then the Frost Brothers helped Jack Frost make his wonderful pictures and this was what they called the celebration. They worked all night, and when morning came, people looked out and saw their windows covered with frost. ‘Jack Frost must have been around last night,’ they said.”

OCTOBER 23: Beans and Peas

A can of beans and a can of peas were talking. They had just been opened and had been poured into large bowls in the kitchen. “Last summer,” said the peas, “a young man came from the city. He wanted to work in the garden, he said.

“Well, of all the funny workers he was the funniest! But the funniest of all—that is—it was the funniest to us, was that he didn’t know us at all.”

“He didn’t know you,” exclaimed the beans.

“No,” grinned the peas, in their vegetable way, “he didn’t know whether we were flowers or vegetables. He looked at us from a little distance away and he said:

“‘Are these flowers or vegetables?’”

“Think of that,” exclaimed the beans.

“Yes, he didn’t know peas,” said the peas.

“Well,” said the beans, “we’ve heard of creatures who didn’t know beans, but we’ve never heard of creatures who didn’t know peas.”

OCTOBER 24: Tiger West’s Food

“Tiger West,” said daddy, “had been off on a number of trips with his cat friends who lived down the street.

“Now Tiger West lived in great grandeur. He had a special bed of cushions and a blanket to curl under. He had a rug of white, soft, fluffy material which he could lie upon whenever he wanted. And he wore a beautiful bow to match his mistress’ gown.

“His master was a very rich man, and Tiger West was used to the best of food. But he had missed adventures and when he became friendly with the cats down the street he certainly did have enough. He narrowly escaped having horrid cold water thrown on him from an upper window one time, because he had been getting some goodies out of an ash tin. ‘Meow,’ he said to himself, ‘what a joke it would be if the master could see me with my whiskers quite dirty and my beautiful fur ruffled up. Well, I know how to make myself look like a gentleman cat when I am ready to go home.’

“Days passed and Tiger West still went on trips with his cat friends. One day there was to be a meeting on the back fence of the cats of the neighborhood, and Tiger West was asked to be present. Now, Mr. Black Cat was very different looking from Tiger West. Mr. Black Cat’s fur was not handsome, and he had a thin look, not at all becoming to a cat. He looked as though he had to hunt for his food and had to exercise entirely too soon after eating. Tiger imagined he must have been chased away after every meal he took.

“Still Mr. Black Cat was a leader in the cat neighborhood. He was President of the Night Singing Club, Vice-President of the Ash Can Visitors, Secretary of the Hunt Mice Club, and Treasurer of the Garbage Guild. He was always chosen as the judge of all the trials held in the cat neighborhood and for this reason he was always called ‘Your Honor.’

“Now it made Tiger West very much annoyed to hear such a common cat called by such a fine name. ‘Do you like strawberries and cream?’ he asked.

“‘Never ate any,’ said Mr. Black Cat.

“‘I do,’ said Tiger West, ‘and I eat them in and out of season. My master always gets them for me, or else he gets something else that is nice for my breakfast with cream.’

“‘It doesn’t satisfy my hunger to hear what you have had to eat,’ said Mr. Black Cat.

“Still Tiger West wanted to show that he amounted to something and was better than Mr. Black Cat. ‘I never eat any kind of meat on a chicken but the tenderest white meat,’ he said. ‘And I am particularly fond of ice-cream. I like all the best food, and I get it too.’

“Mr. Black Cat raised his back and snarled. ‘This cat,’ he said, ‘tries to be superior to us. Let’s put him out of the club.’

“The cats were chasing Tiger West now, but he got away from them and back home. ‘How foolish I was,’ he said to himself as he began to drink a bowl of rich milk, ‘to leave a home like this for such terrifying adventures. But my curiosity is satisfied, and now I will stay home and live in luxury as I should.’”

OCTOBER 25: Autumn Leaves

“Ah,” said the autumn leaves, “now is the time of the year for our great and wonderful party.”

“Are you going to have one soon?” asked Mr. Wind.

“We hope to have one very, very soon,” said the leaves as they blew about.

“The reason I asked,” said Mr. Wind, “was because I did not want to have any other engagement on the day that you give your party. It would be the sort of a party I would enjoy and I trust you will invite me.”

“Well,” laughed the leaves, “we couldn’t very well have the sort of a party we want without you. We want your help in the races and jumps and scampers. We need you to say, ‘Ready, Set, Go.’ We could never go without you, Mr. Wind. And so we talked about this party right before you, hoping you would show a great interest.”

And Mr. Wind came to the party and helped to make it a huge success.

OCTOBER 26: Blackie’s Escape

“A little girl named Doris,” said daddy, “was devoted to her pet dog, Blackie. He had long black curly hair and was her constant companion.

“Wherever Doris went, Blackie followed. He took long walks with her, and when she stopped to gather ferns and lovely wild flowers, Blackie would romp through the fields, playing and chasing his shadow, sticks, and sometimes his tail!

“One day Doris was very busy. She was getting ready for a magic lantern show she was going to give for some of her little friends that evening.

“Blackie went out alone. He thought at first he would take a long scamper over the hills and then he decided that he would go and see some of the other dogs in the village where Doris lived. He thought perhaps they would like to take a run, and it would be so much more fun to have companions. He knew his mistress would not be able to leave the house for she had told him so, and Blackie always understood.

“He went up into the village and before he had met any of his special friends he came across a big bone. He had met several dogs he knew well enough to sniff at and wag his tail to as he went by, but he was waiting to see some of his really good friends when he happened upon the bone.

“‘This looks good,’ he said to himself. ‘I do believe I’ll take it home and spend the afternoon munching on the bone.’

“Blackie ran home and into the side yard. What a time he did have, but it was not long before Doris saw him.

“‘What, back again?’ she said. And Blackie wagged his tail. ‘Maybe I’ll get through in time for a little scamper.’

“Of course Blackie knew perfectly well what a scamper meant and he barked delightedly.

“‘What have you got there?’ asked Doris as she noticed the bone.

“Somehow it had a peculiar look and a very peculiar odor and in a moment Doris thought of poison. That was always the danger about bones that were found. She thought to herself, as she took the bone and looked at it, that there have been people cruel enough to put poison around on bones so dogs would eat it.

“She threw the bone away and though Blackie looked very much disappointed he knew that it must be quite a horrid bone if his mistress wouldn’t let him have it. For she knew how much he loved bones and would never take it away from him if she didn’t have to do so.

“‘I think I’ll be able to leave now,’ said Doris. For the bone still worried her and she thought perhaps it would be good for Blackie to have a run.

“Blackie was very happy again, but when they were a little way out of the village, Blackie didn’t seem to want to run, and he stopped every few moments to eat grass. Dogs usually do that when they are feeling ill.

“Again Doris thought of the bone and how worried she was. Blackie didn’t want to run, and was so unlike himself.

“Pretty soon she decided to go home and Blackie seemed very glad of that. She telephoned her little friends and said that the magic lantern show would be put off for Blackie was ill.

“How badly they all felt, for they knew how much she loved Blackie. But she didn’t forget about the other little dogs. She told all her friends to watch their pets, for she imagined a cruel person who wanted to poison dogs was around.

“During the evening Blackie grew worse! Oh, how sick he was! He was so hot, and Doris kept sponging his head with cool water. He would look at her out of his brown eyes and tell her how grateful he was, and he would try to say that he did not want to leave his mistress—life had been so happy for him.

“‘Oh, Blackie,’ whispered Doris, as she bathed his head, and as her tears rolled down on his black shaggy hairs, ‘would they kill little dogs who are people’s pets—just because they are so mean and don’t know what it is to understand and love an animal? And they put the poison around anywhere so that the good are just as apt to eat it as perhaps one dog who is naughty.’

“But Blackie got well, and perhaps the cruel person heard about it, for there was no more dog poisoning in that village.”

OCTOBER 27: A Talk with the Sun

“A little boy named Melville,” said daddy, “had heard that day that every one should make hay while the sun was shining.

“‘Make hay while the sun shines,’ was what Melville had been told. The one who had told him this was his teacher in school.

“How could any one make hay in the winter time and the sun shone in the winter time as well as in the summer time? he thought.

“He wondered about it more and more as he felt the warmth of Mr. Sun shining into his window. He was sitting curled up in a big arm chair.

“How he wished he could ask Mr. Sun what it meant. Of course he could ask his teacher to-morrow. There must be some meaning to it, or some catch to it which he didn’t understand.

“Mr. Sun looked very pleasant and as though he would be quite willing to tell Melville if only Melville knew how to ask him so he would hear.

“How nice and warm Mr. Sun was. More and more sleepy did Melville become, and after a few moments he was sound asleep. Then it seemed as though Mr. Sun came and sat on the window sill. ‘It is true,’ said Mr. Sun, ‘that one can only make hay when the season allows it, and the season doesn’t allow it when it is winter, most assuredly.

“‘But the expression, “Make hay while the sun shines,” has nothing to do with the seasons.

“‘It is simply an expression meaning to take advantage of the good weather or the good time or the good season and prepare for ones which aren’t so good.

“‘For example, when daddies and mothers are well and strong they try to save a little money for the days when illness may come. That is making hay while the sun shines, for they’re saving during the time when they get a chance to save.

“‘When children study when they’re young they’re making hay while the sun shines for they’re taking advantage of the opportunities they have which will make them wise when they’re men and women.