Chapter III: Part 3

“‘Then, you see, the family were ambitious, and somehow we became kitchen cats, and we lived on milk and good food.’

“‘But how did you ever come here?’ asked Nobility.

“‘Because my little master wanted to make some money to buy a bicycle. He thought perhaps I’d win a prize at a small Show which was given at that time. He fed me up, put a ribbon around my neck, and had me sit on a purple cushion. I won a prize and I’ve been winning them ever since. I was bought for a great deal of money, and I make a lot! But what does that mean to me? Nothing! All I want to say is that if only I knew Grown-Up talk I’d say to all these people that they could admire me if they wished but to please remember my sisters and brothers when the summer comes again.’”

FEBRUARY 20: The Queer Pets

“A funny old woman,” commenced daddy, “lived all alone. Her chief delight in life was to have all the chickens, geese and ducks she could, and let them walk anywhere they pleased. They could go right into the parlor or into the kitchen, whichever suited their fancy. Luckily, for the good of the parlor, they really preferred the kitchen. All the food was there, and they liked to eat better than anything else.

“Now, this old woman was very peculiar, too, and she looked it. But the funniest thing about her was that all the animals she had were queer looking too. The geese seemed to be a little different from any other geese. The ducks had even more hideous feet than most ducks have, and they were all of rather strange colors.

“One day not very long ago there flew around the neighborhood a strange looking bird. He seemed to be quite alone.

“But soon, to every one’s surprise, they saw him playing with the strange looking geese, ducks and chickens that belonged to the old woman. He never wanted to fly in the house, but they saw that she brought out water and crumbs to him. And the old woman welcomed with joy one more strange creature.”

FEBRUARY 21: Harry’s Composition

“Harry was a very clever little boy,” daddy said. “The teacher of the class to which Harry belonged had had all the pupils write original compositions to recite at the Washington’s Birthday entertainment.

“The day before the entertainment (at which, of course, all the mothers and daddies of the children were to be present) a rehearsal of everything was to take place. It was Harry’s turn to recite his composition. As he got up on the platform his legs were shaking, and every one saw how nervous he was.

“He began, then he faltered, and then he broke down and sobbed. Harry, the hero of the school, was crying. Could it be true? The pupils looked at him with pity. What could be the trouble, they asked themselves.

“‘Teacher,’ he finally said between his choking sobs, ‘I didn’t write that composition. I cheated. I copied it out of an old book I found. I’m not worthy to recite on Washington’s Birthday.’

“And then he rushed from the platform down to his seat, and, putting his head in his hands, he cried and cried.

“‘You’ve done a thing worthy of George Washington’s Birthday, Harry,’ said the teacher. ‘You’re not able to act a lie, and because you are truthful you will still recite the composition, giving the name of its real writer.’”

FEBRUARY 22: Father of His Country

We all know the old answer to the question of “Who was George Washington?”

Many a time have we gaily answered the question as we’ve pounded fists on the table:

“First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.” And at the end of that we’ve had a nice little winding up of pounding.

There is hardly a place, it seems, that in some way is not connected with Washington. Perhaps at one time or another he had made his headquarters there, or a chair is preserved carefully because Washington sat in it!

At Mount Vernon, where Washington lived, one can see the very rooms through which Washington walked, his bed-room, and the very four-poster bed in which he slept. And around the house are the grounds which Washington loved and through which he wandered, down to the banks of the Potomac River.

Time and time again George Washington faced difficulties of a bitterly hard nature. But he never flinched.

Time and time again Washington saw his men suffering or deserting. But Washington suffered with them and he never lost courage.

Time and time again Washington was doubted; jealous groups tried to work against him. But Washington went straight on, doing as he should and not stooping to “play favorites” or to be a “favorite.”

There was the time, too, when the country he loved doubted him, and showed him cruel ingratitude. But Washington did not turn from his course. It was the hardest of all to bear but he was the Father of his Country and—his children did come back to him.

And then—when everywhere people were singing his praises, shouting them, exclaiming them, Washington never lost his head.

He never let his own little inner feelings of likes and dislikes keep him from being fair.

Always fair, always just, always true to the country whose government he really made, he is the Father of his Country in truth.

After the Revolutionary War, as after all wars, the country was in a frightfully upset state and the people were the same. Then it was that Washington held together the country, made its government, and slowly but steadily brought order out of the most frightful disorder.

In those days people traveled by stage-coach; cities were small and far apart, the country was spread out and rumors and prejudices were hard to overcome.

But all of these tangled threads and oh, so tangled were they, Washington unraveled!

His Christmas Days, too—often how unlike Christmas they were! One was spent at Valley Forge when everything was frozen and the men went forth seeking food. Another was spent at New Windsor where the suffering from the cold had been intense, but there was brightness that day because of the arrival of a great wagon filled with shirts and warm clothing for Washington and his men. And yet another Christmas was that when the famous crossing of the Delaware River took place.

Washington—whom historians all call very great.

Washington—the Father of his Country!

FEBRUARY 23: The Stamp Traveler

“I am very superior,” said the Postage Stamp. “I travel all over the world. My family have always traveled. We don’t stay in one place—of course sometimes we do—but more often we go away. Now and again our little one-cent brothers go about the town, but we, the noble two-cent stamps, how we travel.”

“You don’t travel any more than we do,” said the Envelope upon which the stamp was stuck fast.

“I disagree with you,” said the Stamp.

“That makes no difference to me,” said the Envelope. “But if you disagree with me, why don’t you leave me?”

“I can’t,” said the Stamp.

“Of course you can’t, you poor dear,” said the Ink which had made the address on the envelope. “You’re stuck to the Envelope, and no matter how hard you quarrel you still have to stick.”

“Well, I’d like to know if you don’t have to stay on too,” said the Stamp.

“Ah, but I have fun when I’m being put on. Sometimes I make a nice smudgy spot, and then the Creature who has been writing with me does not know what to do.

“The Creature will argue like this, ‘Now shall I let the Envelope go as it is, or shall I address a fresh one? There is something queer about this Ink.’ Then it is that I chuckle. ‘No,’ the Creature continues, ‘I think I will not notice the smudgy spot. Maybe the persons getting it will think that the rain has made it look so badly—rain often gets at a letter.’

“And so the Creature blames it on the rain, and I go off quite free.”

“That’s not to your credit when you’re guilty,” said the Envelope.

“We mustn’t quarrel,” said the Postage Stamp, “as now we’re off for a trip. The man is putting us in a bag. Then we go on a train—then to a new Post Office, and at last we reach the place for which we started.”

“Yes,” said the Ink, “the place I have marked with my ink!”

FEBRUARY 24: How Rowdy Shared His Home

“Rowdy was a beautiful and very handsome bulldog. He had a lovely white throat, too, and when he went out into the street he wore a fine big collar, which made him look very distinguished,” said daddy, “and he belonged to a little boy named Alfred. Alfred’s mother was a very rich lady, and Rowdy had all the comforts that any dog could possibly ask for. He slept in Alfred’s room in a beautiful basket.

“Alfred and Rowdy were really inseparable companions. Alfred was not a very strong little boy. He couldn’t join in all the sports that other little boys enjoy. Because of Alfred’s ill health he and Rowdy were all the better companions.

“Alfred had a phonograph, which he used to play a great deal. Rowdy would sit before it, so delighted at the music. He’d put his head first on one side and then on the other. Of course Alfred would talk to him and ask him how he was enjoying the music. Rowdy would wag his tail to show he thought it was fine.

“In the afternoons Alfred and his mother used to take drives in a lovely big open Victoria. One afternoon it was beautifully bright and sunny. Alfred’s mother said:

“‘We’ll go for a nice long drive to-day.’

“‘Rowdy!’ called Alfred, for Rowdy was fast asleep on the sofa.

“Rowdy jumped up eagerly as if he knew something pretty nice was going to happen.

“‘Rowdy, how would you like to take a drive? Speak and say if you would like it.’

“So Rowdy wagged his tail and gave a bark as if to say, ‘Charmed!’ Rowdy’s best collar was put on, and off they started. They had not gone far before they passed a poor, pathetic little waif dog. Rowdy was not snobbish and proud as some dogs might have been, brought up in all the comforts he had always had. Instead he seemed to feel very sorry for the little waif dog and whined sadly. Then he tried to jump out of the carriage.

“‘Do you want to take the little waif dog driving?’ said Alfred to Rowdy. And Rowdy showed as well as he could that he would like that tremendously.

“They took the poor little homeless dog back with them and gave him good food and a nice home. Rowdy seemed to be glad to give such happiness to a little friendless dog, and he seemed to feel that it was giving the dog rare pleasure to have a master like Alfred.”

FEBRUARY 25: The Tired Eagles

“In the house where Kenneth lived there was a chair which had always fascinated him. It was a very, very old chair, and Kenneth’s mother and daddy were very proud of it,” said daddy to Jack and Evelyn. “Kenneth’s daddy had bought it at a sale of old and curious things. It was a Roman chair, and on either side were two heads of eagles. These four heads in all always made Kenneth wonder, for they looked so very life-like. He used to imagine that even little wooden eagles must get very tired of always being just the same. And late one afternoon, sitting in the chair he fell asleep.

“‘You’re terribly tired, aren’t you?’ said the first eagle, who suddenly seemed to be looking at him.

“‘Yes, I’m a little tired,’ Kenneth admitted.

“‘Well, you’re not as tired as we are,’ said the second eagle.

“‘No, indeed!’ said the third eagle. ‘You’re only tired because you’ve played so many games. We’re tired because we’re always still.’

“Kenneth listened eagerly, because he’d so often thought just what he was hearing. ‘Yes,’ said Kenneth very sympathetically, ‘I should think you would be very dull. I’ve often thought that. Have you been there a long time?’

“‘Oh, ages and ages!’ replied the fourth eagle, who up to this time had not spoken. ‘We were very old before your daddy got us. We’ve been on this chair so long. We can’t remember how long. And what makes us feel so sad is that we are called eagles and should fly and yet are forever glued to this chair.’

“‘Kenneth, Kenneth,’ cried Kenneth’s mother, ‘it’s long past bed-time!’

“‘Oh, I am not so tired as the eagles are!’ said Kenneth. And Kenneth’s mother wondered if he was talking in his sleep.”

FEBRUARY 26: The Squirrels’ Peanut Hunt

“A little girl named Polly,” began daddy, “lived near a park. In this park were a great many squirrels. They were principally gray, with great, long bushy tails, and they were very tame. Polly had often fed them peanuts, but she thought it would be lots of fun to have a real peanut hunt. So she ran around as quickly as she could, hiding the peanuts from her bag.

“First one very old fat squirrel found three peanuts hidden under a rock.

“He called to the other squirrels and waved his bushy tail in the air, trying to say, ‘There are peanuts if we will hunt for them!’

“The squirrels didn’t stop to eat the peanuts after they discovered that there were so many hidden. They just kept on getting more and more until finally they had succeeded in finding them all.

“Then they began to carry the peanuts to their little homes, and they looked so happy, just as if they were free from cares or worries for days to come, for, of course, they didn’t have to worry about meals for ever and ever so long with the wonderful supply they now had on hand.”

FEBRUARY 27: The Game of Manners

“I must tell you a story about the game of good manners which they play in a large public school in a big city,” said daddy. “They are let into the secret that it’s a lesson, but it is a play-time lesson and they have it in connection with their gymnasium and play-time work, though it doesn’t take the place of recess.

“And they grow to understand their teachers better, who are teaching them the game of manners and they get on so much better when both teachers and pupils understand each other and really like each other.

“For example, they hear a story of a little boy who didn’t want to wash his hands or face and who became so dirty that he found himself without any companion except a pig.

“After they have heard such a story they all act it out, one taking the part of the dirty little boy, and the others of the people he met who wouldn’t play with him or have anything to do with him, or invite him into their homes, or anything nice like that.

“And they take turns in having the story about a boy and about a girl.

“They hear a story of a very rude boy or girl and of how he grew up into a cross man or woman, and they hear of his adventures and what horrible times he had making others miserable as well as himself.

“Then they act out these stories in their classes where they have dramatics and different ones take the parts of the bad child or the unmannerly child or the unmannerly grown-up, and of all the people whom these met with in their adventures.

“And oh, what laughter there is when a boy makes a mistake in acting his part of the teacher and in being very unlike the teacher and more like himself which of course is quite natural. Yes, the game of good manners is a great and successful game in this school where there are three thousand and six hundred boys and girls.”

FEBRUARY 28: Naughty Julius

“There is nothing more dreadful to my mind,” said daddy, “than a little boy who is mean to other children not so big and strong as he is. I once knew a little boy like that and will tell you about him this evening.

“The little boy’s name was Julius.

“A family came to live one day in the house opposite where Julius lived. The house had been vacant for a long time, so Julius was delighted when he found he was to have neighbors. What was his disappointment, though, to find that the family opposite consisted only of a mother, daddy and a little sick boy named Hugh. He was cross when he saw Hugh’s little pale face at the window opposite. He would laugh at him until he saw the tears trickle down Hugh’s face and he would turn away from the window.

“One day Julius’ mother came to him and said, ‘Julius, it is very cruel to make fun of a little sick boy, and I will tell you what is the trouble with Hugh.

“‘Hugh had his right foot frozen last winter, and he has had to have it taken off. To-day he is going out for the first time on his crutches,’ concluded his mother.

“Julius kept very quiet, but inwardly he was planning something very mean to do. He waited around for some time, and still no sign of Hugh. At last he saw him, so he shrieked from the window, ‘Hello, tenderfoot!’

“Hugh was bound he would be brave, so he beat back the tears. Julius rushed downstairs and out into the street.

“Just at that moment a fast motor-car came along. Julius did not see it, but Hugh did, and as his little voice was too weak to rise above Julius’ laughter he hobbled on his crutches and pulled Julius out of the way just in the nick of time. Oh, how frightened Julius was! And his escape from some terrible injury seemed marvelous.

“In a flash he saw what it would have meant to him to have no football, no skating, no sports, and the little crippled Hugh he had laughed at and who had so much to bear had saved him.

“Hugh forgave Julius, and they became fast friends from that time, and Julius never forgot that Hugh had saved his life.”

FEBRUARY 29: The Whistling Boy

“I am going to tell you a story,” said daddy, “about a whistling boy. It is a true story too. The boy was asked to a party and he went.

“All the children were playing games—follow the leader, prisoner’s base, blind man’s buff, hide and go seek, still-pond-no-more-moving, and many other games.

“They asked him if he wanted to play and he put his hands in his pockets and whistled. Then they had supper and they asked him if he liked creamed chicken and he whistled.

“They asked him if he liked ice-cream and he whistled. And as he whistled the same three notes whenever he was asked anything they didn’t know whether he liked ice-cream or not.

“They gave him some supper when everything was passed around and he whistled when he took his plates and his cup of cocoa. When he had finished, without saying a word to any other children he got up, put his hands in his pockets once more and whistled.

“The children began to giggle, for they thought he was such a funny boy, and a funny boy he was. He had been rather spoilt and he hadn’t really learned to play with other children.

“They felt very sorry for him, but still he wouldn’t say a word or do anything. They had asked him to the party because he had just come to the town to live and they thought he must be lonely.

“Well, when he got home he felt very badly, as many shy people do who have been rude because they were so shy they didn’t know what to say, and so did the wrong thing.

“He cried when he was going to bed. And he was much ashamed of himself, for he thought it was a dreadful thing for a boy to cry.

“After a while he went to sleep, and in his sleep the Dream King came to him.

“‘I’ll help you,’ said the Dream King, ‘and I will not let you behave as badly as you did this afternoon if I can help it. For listen, Boy. If you whistle again instead of talking and playing I will take away your tongue for a whole month and you won’t be able to make any sound.’

“And the dream seemed so real to the boy that he tried his best to act as other boys, and he succeeded too.”

MARCH 1: Lucy’s Tonsils

Now, there were two tonsils and they had made their home in Lucy’s throat.

Tonsils always make their homes in throats. They do not care for other kinds of homes.

They are all alike in that way.

Now people are very different. Some people like to have their homes in country places. Others like to have their homes in big cities where there are crowds and crowds of people.

Still others like to have their homes in seaside places, so they can be neighbors of dear old Mother Ocean.

But tonsils like to make their homes in throats. And these twin Tonsils were in Lucy’s throat.

One Tonsil was named Ton Tonsil and the other was Tom Tonsil.

“Hello, Ton,” said Tom, “are you up to mischief?”

“Indeed I am,” said Ton. “I’m causing trouble. How about you?”

“Doing all I can think of and I’ve a good many pranks left to play, too,” said Tom. “I tell you what, we have a loyal and faithful little friend in Susy Sore Throat. She’s a mean one.

“She’s a good playmate for us. She’s going to be with us to-day. Gracious me, it’s surprising how Susy does turn up, and half the time no one knows from where she comes.

“She’s going to bring her little half-brother along with her—you know—Ronald Raw Throat. They’re very fond of being together.”

“I think we’ll have a fine party,” said Ton Tonsil. “I feel puffed up with excitement already.”

“So do I,” said Tom.

“I tell you Lucy’s throat is a fine home for us,” said Ton.

“Yes,” said Tom, “it’s gorgeous. We have had lots of room to grow big with pride, and we have. We’ve grown big with Tonsil pride.

“They say it’s not nice for Tonsils to grow so proud because they’ve nothing to be proud of—but gracious me, that is just the point.

“Things that have no reason to be puffed up and proud are usually the kind that are most conceited.

“And those creatures who are modest and not conceited are usually the ones who can do things. You’ll almost always find it is that way.”

“That’s the way it usually is,” said Ton. “Well, we mustn’t talk any more. We must get bigger and bigger and just let Lucy know we’re making ourselves quite at home in her throat.

“In fact, she needn’t think she has any rights to her own throat. We’re the ones with rights.”

“And don’t forget us,” said the little Adenoid Cousins. “Don’t forget us.”

“We won’t,” said the Tonsil Twins. “We won’t forget you.”

Along then came Susy Sore Throat and Ronald Raw Throat, and Carrie Cold came too, and so did Clarence Cough. Oh, they all came and had a party in Lucy’s throat.

Well, they liked the party so much that they came again and again. Sometimes they had little parties and sometimes big parties.

One day, however, Lucy decided to let her Tonsils know that they could not make their home any longer in her throat.

So she went to the big doctor who had promised to take them out and who had told her that she would get rid of those wretched little Twins.

It wasn’t pleasant to think of getting rid of the Twins. They wouldn’t come out by a mere kind word. No, they had to be cut out. Harsh ways had to be used with them. But Lucy was brave—and she knew that once she got rid of those wretches her throat would never again be the place for the Tonsil parties.

So the big doctor took the Tonsil Twins out and their Adenoid Cousins along with them, and the Tonsils wept red tears as they left Lucy, but they said each to the other:

“It was all our fault for behaving as we did!”

MARCH 2: Lucy’s Visitors

The Tonsil Twins had been taken away from Lucy’s throat and no longer did they make their home there and give the horrible parties they had been giving for so long a time. And, while Susy Sore Throat was leaving, nice visitors came to see Lucy.

A most attractive little toy wooden bunny came. His ears could be moved up and down and a most roguish look he would have when one ear was up and the other down.

Lucy gave him chicken broth and he was extremely pleased.

If he had not been afraid his wooden face would have cracked he would surely have smiled. For it was pleasant indeed when one was only a little wooden bunny rabbit to be given chicken broth.

It was most superior chicken broth, too. Oh, yes, for it had been made for Lucy and was made so as to give her lots of extra strength.

Besides the toy bunny a rag doll came to see Lucy. Yes, a very lovable sweet rag doll came to visit her.

She wore a little knitted hood on her head and a little sweater and a knitted scarf to keep her warm.

And she had a pair of warm knitted shoes. She wore her outside jacket, too, over her sweater, and she took along her little apron, so she could wear that when she played, so as not to hurt her good dress.

Oh, yes, the rag doll was going to play with Lucy and have an excellent time.

Then many members of the game family came to call on Lucy. They, too, came ready for play. Yes, there is nothing in the world that a game is more ready for than a good play.

Then people came to see Lucy, too, and congratulate her on the fact that the Tonsil Twins and the Adenoid Cousins had left.

A lovely gray felt bunny and a brown felt monkey always were with Lucy. They had always belonged to her and, though new visitors came, they did not leave her. The monkey put his arm around the bunny and with his other arm on the pillow by Lucy he looked most comfortable.

He hadn’t left her when she had gone to have the Tonsil Twins out. He had been such a comfort. Of course, when they were actually to be taken out he had to stay behind, but he was with her just as long as he could be and he joined her again as soon as he could.

“Well,” he was saying to the gray rabbit, “I’m laughing up my sleeve.”

“How can you do that?” asked the rabbit. “You haven’t any sleeve and you aren’t laughing up your arm. You’re not even turning your mouth in that direction.

“What do you mean by saying that?”

“Oh, it is just an expression,” said the monkey. “When Creatures say they’re laughing up their sleeve it does not really mean that they’re holding open their sleeve and saying:

“‘Ha, ha, ha,’ up it. But it means they’re laughing inwardly or to themselves or so no one can see their laughter. That is what the expression means.

“So, you see no one can see my laughter, but I’m laughing all right at the good joke played on those wretched Tonsil Twins!”

Just then there came another visitor. This time it was the prince of desserts—Prince Ice-Cream. Proudly the Prince came in on the best and most royal of saucers and just at that moment Susy Sore Throat left for good and all.

MARCH 3: The Homesick Puppy

Daddy had a story about a little dog that he knew would please both the children.

“Would you like to hear of a little dog who was homesick?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Evelyn, “we would love to hear about it—that is, if he didn’t die of homesickness.”

“No, indeed,” said daddy, “this little dog didn’t die of homesickness, for he was sent home again and then was perfectly happy.

“He was the pet puppy of his mother, and he had told the man who had sold him to a little girl that he didn’t want to go.

“The man who sold him thought that the little girl would give him such a nice home, and so she did, but the little puppy wanted more than just a nice home. He wanted his mother.

“Of course the little girl hadn’t hesitated a moment about buying him, for he was a beautiful little Boston bull, and she promised him that she would make him happy.

“Now, when the little girl reached home with her puppy she gave him a great big bowl of the most delicious warm milk and a good puppy biscuit. But the puppy wouldn’t touch the milk and biscuit.

“At bedtime the little girl showed the puppy his basket, which was nice and soft and comfortable. She thought that after a good night’s rest he would be hungry for his breakfast and feel better.

“But morning came, and the puppy still refused to eat. And, would you believe it, hours passed, and the puppy still would not eat.

“Then the little girl decided that the only thing to be done was to take her beautiful puppy back to his mother.

“She ordered her pony cart to be ready for a certain hour, and off she started, holding the puppy by her side.

“When the puppy came near his home and began to see familiar sights it was all she could do to keep him in the cart, and when they were right by his home she could not hold him, for with a bound he was out and frisked and jumped over his mother, and she did the same, looking as if they would almost kill each other with joy.

“‘I guess he had better stay home,’ said the man.

“‘Yes,’ answered the little girl, ‘this is where he belongs.’”

MARCH 4: Lady Ethel

“I want to tell you a story this evening of the horse called Lady Ethel,” said daddy.

“One time Lady Ethel’s master took a long ride far out into the country away from where people lived.

“He felt quite ill after he had ridden a long way, and all of a sudden he got quite dizzy and fell.

“Lady Ethel pulled him out of the road and off to one side so no one taking the same road would go dashing over him by mistake.

“And then she went back home, all the distance alone, and neighed so that the people came out with her and found her master.

“He was quite ill after that, for he had been feeling poorly when he had started out on his ride, but if it hadn’t been for Lady Ethel he wouldn’t have had the chance to have been taken home and put back to bed and nursed back to health.

“He said he was grateful to all who helped him get well, but the one he was most grateful to of all was the faithful Lady Ethel.

“And every day while he was ill they led her under his window and she neighed happily after he had called out with as much strength as he could:

“‘Hello, my faithful, fine Lady Ethel!’”

MARCH 5: The Soup

“We’re going to be mixed together, I hear,” said the tomato.

“You don’t say so,” said the milk. “Well, we will be chummy, won’t we?”

“Yes,” said the tomato. “They’re going to make cream of tomato soup. It’s supposed to be quite delicious. And when we’re both well cooked they will mix us together and season us up very fine and we’ll be eaten as the first thing at the meal. Yes, soup is very apt to take the lead. It’s a leader, soup is.”

“Good,” said the milk. “But how silly to call it cream of tomato soup, if they’re going to use me. I’m milk, I am.”

“Oh, well,” said the tomato, “let them have their little airs and graces. And maybe when you’re mixed with me you’re every bit as good as cream. Who knows!”

MARCH 6: Elephant Ways

“Why did you have your toe-nails cut, your skin oiled, and your feet sand-papered?” asked Sally of an elephant in the Zoo.

“One question at a time please,” said the elephant. “I can’t answer all three at once, for then the answers would be all jumbled up. Besides, I don’t know how to say more than one word at a time.

“My nails were cut because they needed it. And, come to think of it, I can answer all your questions at once. My feet needed to be sand-papered and my body needed to be oiled. My skin required it, and so the keeper looked after me, as he did after my friends here.” This he said waving his trunk.

“But what do you do when you are not in the Zoo?” asked Sally. “They don’t have sandpaper and nail scissors in the jungles, do they?”

“Ah, that is where you do not understand, and where the keeper does. In the wilds I can cut my nails on the great rocks. They keep them short. Here I cannot do it myself, and so the keeper has to do it for me. And I get the oil for my skin in the swamps when I’m free, and my feet are kept hard by the ground and rocks. We do not need the keeper’s scissors and so forth when we are free, for old Mother Nature looks after those things for us.”

MARCH 7: The Marbles

“The Marbles,” said daddy, “were very proud because they had been used so much by boys and girls—especially by boys.

“Then, too, the Elves had played marbles, as years before they had found out about them and thought they were lots of fun to play with.

“‘You are nothing but an ordinary Marble,’ said one large and very blue Marble to a little Marble.

“‘But I am useful for playing. And I joggle along and roll much better than you do. You are so big. You are quite awkward!’

“‘I’d feel pretty badly,’ said the big Marble, ‘if I were as cheap as you. You cost next to nothing. In fact, you didn’t even cost a cent. Not one whole cent!’

“The Marble rolled along a little way as if it couldn’t be too near the cheap Marble.

“‘But a cent bought me,’ said the little Marble.

“‘Yes,’ said the big Marble proudly, ‘it bought you and also a number of other marbles, too. You were one of five for a cent. One cent bought you and four others! Now, as for me! well, it took the whole of five cents to buy me!’

“‘I know it,’ said the little Marble sadly.

“‘My Master only bought me yesterday,’ said the big Marble. ‘His friends have not seen me. They’ll trade everything for me! Gracious—they’d trade dozens of little Marbles just for me! I cost five cents!’

“The children had arrived, but they did not seem to want to trade everything for it! One of them said,

“‘It is a beauty, but then it is not nearly so nice to play with as the smaller ones; besides, if I gave up a lot of small marbles for that big one I’d never be able to have a real game.’

“And all the other children said just the same thing.

“They played and they played. But the big Marble was so mad that it rolled away crookedly and no one thought so much of it.

“After the children had finished playing and had taken their marbles, and after the Master of the big Marble had put it away with the smaller ones, the little Marble which had been bought with four others for a cent said,

“‘Well, you may be handsome and big. But you are not nearly such fun as we are. Sometimes the cheap things are the most fun. It doesn’t mean because you cost five cents that you can give more pleasure.’

“‘I’m glad I can’t be used all the time like you all are,’ said the big Marble. ‘I am too fine for little Marbles, anyway.’

“But all the little Marbles were happy because they were the best for the children’s games.”

MARCH 8: Tomatoes’ Advantages

“The Vegetables,” said daddy, “had been put into the cellar for the winter. There were the Potatoes, the Apples for cooking, Carrots, the Squash family and many others. As they were talking the cook came down in the cellar. ‘Well,’ said she to herself, ‘it’s nice to get something from the hot-house once in a while. I get so sick of these everlasting winter vegetables and apples that we keep in the cellar. It’s nice to have a few Tomatoes for a change.’

“Down she put a box with bright red Tomatoes—just from the hot-house.

“‘Well, Vegetables,’ said the Tomatoes, ‘how do you do?’

“‘We’re quite well,’ said the Vegetables and Apples, who were rather quiet right now.

“‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to you, though I’m pretty different from you,’ said the biggest Tomato of all.

“‘And why shouldn’t you be?’ asked Mr. Potato. ‘You have been in a hot-house, spoilt and petted. You’d be queer if you weren’t superior. With sun and warmth of course you have a fine color!’ And the Tomatoes agreed that they had had unusual advantages.”

MARCH 9: The Old Woman and the Pot of Daffodils

“A little girl named Laura,” said daddy, “had been quite ill. One day she was wondering if she would ever feel like herself again, able to do things and to play around. She was sitting up by the window in a big chair. She was looking out, feeling very sad and forlorn, when suddenly she saw a funny old woman who looked just like a witch stop by the window and then walk right into the room.

“The funny old woman spoke at once.

“‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Instead, you see this pot of daffodils I am carrying?’

“‘Yes,’ exclaimed Laura. ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’

“‘I am so glad you like them,’ continued the old woman, ‘for they are for you.’

“‘For me?’ repeated Laura. ‘For me?’

“‘Yes,’ said the old woman. ‘When the spring comes I take a walk each day, carrying with me a pot of daffodils. When I see some one sitting in the window of a house looking sick and longing to go out I just go right in and leave my pot of daffodils, for they are better than any spring tonic, to my mind.’

“And the yellow flowers smiled at Laura and bobbed their pretty heads, saying, ‘We’ll make you well.’

“And, sure enough, they really did more toward making Laura well than anything else. How could she help but feel better with the bright flowers smiling at her and cheering her up?”

MARCH 10: The Tick-Tock Twins

“Hello, twin Tock,” said Tick, and Tock answered, just as quickly as anything:

“Hello, Tick.”

They never got tired of saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock.” They were the two clock twins, as you may have guessed, but sometimes between their words to each other, sometimes between saying to each other “Tick” and “Tock,” they talked.

Of course they would only say a few words at a time and those would be said so very quickly we could not understand them, and anyway Tick and Tock only talk for each other.

They just speak to each other all day long, as the time goes on.

And they don’t stop at night, but as it would be very hard to understand their story without leaving out all the ticks and the tocks we will hear it with those left out.

Really it was like this.

“Hello, Tick.”

“Hello, Tock,” and the “Hello” would be said very quickly so no one else could hear it.

“Nice-Tick.”

“Nice-Tock.”

“Day-Tick.”

“Day-Tock,” and so on and on, never forgetting the tick and the tock.

“We’re such happy twins,” said Tick.

“Yes,” said Tock, “and we never forsake each other. If one of us can’t go on, the other won’t go alone. There is never a tick without a tock following right on behind.”

“Ah, you’re so loyal, Tock,” said Tick.

“And so are you,” said Tock.

“There are many clock twins,” said Tick.

“Many,” agreed Tock.

“Every clock has us,” said Tick.

“Every one,” said Tock.

“And if the clock stops, they stop too.”

“Of course,” said Tock.

“One would never go without the other,” said Tick.

“Of course not,” said Tock.

“It’s nice,” said Tick, “to be so loyal, very nice and very unusual. Think of how we can always wait for the other, and then follow after!”

“We’re each always following the other,” said Tock.

“I’m glad,” said Tick, “I’m not a boy and you’re not a girl. Then when we grew up we’d be sent to different schools, and one of us would go into business and the other might marry and keep house. Dear me, it’s much nicer to be the clock twins. We’ll never be separated.”

MARCH 11: The Fig

“I’m mad,” said the Fig.

“What are you mad about?” asked the Apple.

The Fig and the Apple were in the fruit dish together, along with an orange or two and a bunch of grapes.

“What are you mad about?” the rest of the fruit asked.

“Yes, you’d better tell us,” said the Apple. “I’m sure it will make you feel much, much better.”

“I don’t know whether it will or not,” said the Fig.

“Why don’t you think it will?” asked the Apple.

“Because it might make me cry, and some one might call me a cry baby.”

“My dear Fig,” said the Apple, “no one could ever call you a cry baby, because even if you cried you’re not a baby.”

“But I’ve heard big boys and big girls called cry babies, and they weren’t babies,” said the Fig.

“All very true,” said the Apple, “but they behaved as babies and once they had been babies. That is, each one of them had once been a baby. It would have been impossible for them to have been more than one baby I suppose.”

“We suppose so, too,” said the rest of the fruit, as it moved in the fruit dish a little.

“And,” continued the Apple, “they were behaving as though they hadn’t grown up into boys and girls by crying over some silly little thing.

“You see, Fig, you have never been a baby. You have been a little fig, but never a little baby. So you couldn’t be a cry baby, though you might be a cry fig, or a cry little fig. I’m not sure about that.”

“That wouldn’t sound so badly,” said the Fig. “I will have to tell you what has made me mad, and what may make me cry at any moment.”

“Tell us,” said the Apple.

“Imagine,” said the Fig, “I heard people speak of a person they knew was mean and horrid and unfair and all that was dreadful as not being worth a fig. Oh, that was cruel, cruel.”

“I am so glad you told the story,” said the Apple, “for you are being unhappy for no reason at all. When any one says that a person isn’t worth thinking about and he wouldn’t give a fig for that person, it doesn’t mean an insult to the family of figs, but is simply an expression people have used for a long, long time.” And the Fig was happy again.

But the Fig was more delighted when a lovely child came by the fruit dish and taking the Fig said, “I simply love figs.”

MARCH 12: Happy Compton

“In the first place,” said Happy Compton, “I’m a dog. I’m not any special breed. I’m not what is known as a thoroughbred, but they say I’m brighter than a great many thoroughbreds. I’m glad they think I’m bright, and that they like me.

“I was a little waif dog first of all. Louise and Ada had been promised a dog. Their daddy had told them that the first chance he had he would go and buy them a dog. Then I came along, a lonely, homeless little waif dog.

“They took me in and fed me and loved me and made me warm and happy.

“When their daddy asked them about the dog he was to buy for them Louise said:

“‘Such dogs as those, in kennels, which are for sale, will get homes, for they will be in good condition, but this is a homeless little dog and I’d rather have him. He will be happy here and he will be loved here. No one could love him more than I do.’

“‘Except the way I love him,’ said Ada, and to prove how much she loved me she put me down by her on the pillow and covered me up and then Louise stroked my head and I went off into the dreamland of dogs.

“They both loved me so right away and they still love me so, and I know how much they always will love me.

“Because they could see how happy I was to be no longer homeless and miserable they called me Happy. It’s such a nice name, and they have given me their last name, too—Happy Compton. Isn’t that fine?”

MARCH 13: Ice Box and Furnace

Now the furnace and the ice box were both in a big cellar. The ice box was some distance away from the furnace, but still they were in the same cellar. The ice box was near a door, which was by some steps. These steps led up to the kitchen of the house and every one came down to the ice box to get out the food which was going to be used and the milk and all such things which belong in an ice box.

Of course, half of the year the furnace wasn’t doing anything, and in the winter time the ice box did not have nearly so much ice given to it.

“I feel sorry for you,” said the furnace. “Here you are so cold and you haven’t even enough warmth about you to make the ice melt quickly as it does in the summer time.

“You have to be so cold always; even in the winter you have to be cold. That is the saddest of all. In the summer I’m not so hot myself but as soon as a cold day comes I am ready to be warm.”

“Ah, furnace, you mustn’t boast too much,” said the ice box. “I’ve heard the family having great trouble with you. There are days, sometimes the cold, cold ones, too, when you won’t burn. I’ve even known you to go out sometimes.

“And oh, how you have made the family shiver. You have made them fuss over you.”

“And why shouldn’t they fuss over me?” asked the furnace. “I’m the furnace, I am; the great and warm and powerful furnace. I keep the whole house warm. I keep all the people in it warm.”

“But you don’t keep them warm when you go out and when you go slowly and when you won’t burn nicely,” said the ice box.

“That is to show that I won’t let any one think I’m so unimportant that I don’t have to be noticed and fussed over.”

“It shows that sometimes you are very mean, furnace. Important and great and wise and clever creatures don’t have to be fussed over. They’re above it.”

“Look here, young ice box,” said the furnace, “I don’t want any rules from you. You are a fine thing to talk about a creature keeping warm. What warmth do you ever give to any one, I’d like to know?”

“You’re right, furnace, I don’t give any warmth. But I am not supposed to, and you are. I am supposed to keep the ice and to make folks cool in the hot summer and make the food keep nice and fresh and cool. I do my work, I do. And you should do yours, you should.”

“I do it all right, never fear,” said the furnace, though it knew that many a time it had behaved badly. But now it was mad and it went for all it was worth and the ice box chuckled and said to itself, “The poor people have been saying how cold they were and how badly the furnace was behaving. Now the furnace is mad and will behave by burning and raging for all it is worth.”

And the furnace burned angrily and furiously and how nice and warm the people kept on that cold winter’s day!

MARCH 14: The Pet Dogs

“There were five dogs,” said daddy, “who belonged to a boy who was named Jack.

“Brutus was the largest of all. He was a big Newfoundland dog. Next came Bogi, another Newfoundland dog, but not so large as Brutus.

“Third came Patty, an Irish terrier. Then came Ouji, a cocker spaniel, and last came Susy, a little fox terrier. When they all stood together they looked like a flight of stairs, and just as though one could walk from Susy right up to Brutus.

“‘Ah,’ said Patty, ‘I see something coming my way.’

“All the other dogs looked and Patty said, ‘There is a bug and I’m going to catch it.’

“But the bug said to itself, ‘I’ll play a joke on that dog.’ And the bug did play a joke, a very mean joke.

“Patty snapped at the bug and then was about to swallow it when she had gotten the bug on her tongue, when what should that mean bug do but turn itself over so that it attached itself to Patty’s tongue, and so Patty couldn’t swallow it or eat it or anything!

“Then Brutus had a fine idea. He ran for Jack, for he had seen Jack go to a near-by field to play baseball.

“He ran just as hard as he could and when he reached the field he didn’t even notice the baseball which had just been hit with the bat.

“The boys were awfully frightened for a moment as they thought Brutus might get hit by accident with the hard ball, and they called out to him, but Brutus wasn’t thinking of being afraid of anything.

“But luckily the ball didn’t hit Brutus, and Brutus went right on up to his master, barking, and showing by his eyes that he wanted to have Jack follow him.

“‘I guess Brutus wants me for something,’ said Jack, ‘for he wouldn’t come to the baseball field if it weren’t for something important.’

“So Jack ran quickly home, following Brutus. There he found Patty with the bug on her tongue and feeling most uncomfortable.

“Jack quickly took the bug off and then Patty no longer looked sick and miserable.

“She jumped up on Jack and wagged her tail and her eyes looked very glad and happy as she tried to thank her master. And then she did quite the sweetest thing ever a dog did. She suddenly seemed to know that Brutus was the one who had done everything.

“Jack had come quickly when Brutus had called him, for Jack was always so good to his pets, and Jack had been able to take the bug off her tongue because he had nice useful hands.

“But Patty knew that it was Brutus who had gone for Jack, and Brutus who had brought him back so quickly.

“And Patty went over to Brutus, looking so small beside the great big Newfoundland dog and she licked Brutus’ paws and rolled over on the grass, saying to Brutus that she was a very grateful, happy, little dog.

“And then, for a special treat, every one of them had a bone, and Jack gave himself a piece of cake!” ended daddy.

MARCH 15: Biddle’s Trick

“Biddle the cat,” said daddy, “was very thirsty and he wanted to get a drink of milk.”

“‘Look,’ one of the family suddenly exclaimed. And from the study they could see a light in the pantry.

“When they went into the pantry there was Biddle on the pantry shelf and he had just pressed with his paw the electric light button—so the light had gone on!

“‘Do you want something, Biddle?’ one of the family asked, after they had all exclaimed at the wonderful thing which Biddle had just done.

“Biddle purred, and looked at the ice box, and they got some milk for him.