Chapter II: Preface (2)

Little white snowdrops! I pray you arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
Daffodils! Daffodils! say, do you hear?
Summer is coming, and springtime is here!”

—MRS. EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.

THE WOLF AND THE STORK

A greedy wolf got a bone stuck in his throat. Try as he would, he could not get the bone out. At last he lay down to die, as he thought. But just then a stork came that way.

“Good day, Mr. Wolf,” said the stork, kindly.

But the wolf could not answer a word.

The stork soon saw what the matter was, and with his long beak pulled the bone out of the wolf’s throat. Without a word, the greedy wolf sprang up and went on with his dinner.

The stork, who was very hungry, began to pick up a few morsels of meat.

“Be off with you!” snapped the wolf. “How dare you touch my meat!”

“Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?” said the stork.

“Thanks!” answered the wolf, “did I not let you draw your bill out of my jaws in safety? It is you who should be thankful.”

THE INDIAN MOTHER’S LULLABY

roe buck

pap poose

Man i tou

slum ber ing

breezes

prai rie

Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, little pappoose,
The stars come into the sky;
The whip-po’-will’s crying, the daylight is dying,
The river runs murmuring by.

The pine trees are slumbering, little pappoose,
The squirrel has gone to his nest;
The robins are sleeping, the mother bird’s keeping
The little ones warm with her breast.

The roebuck is dreaming, my little pappoose,
His mate lies asleep at his side;
The breezes are pining, the moonbeams are shining
All over the prairies wide.

Then hush-a-by, rock-a-by, little pappoose,
You sail on the river of dreams;
Dear Manitou loves you, and watches above you,
Till time when the morning light gleams.

—CHARLES MYALL.

HOW MRS. WHITE HEN HELPED ROSE

(y ond er)
p ond

(c atch)
scr atch

ques tion

sur prised

(p ush)
b ush

(ever)
cl ever

si lent ly

sud den ly

(h ard)
y ard

(for ward)

earth

worm

chirped

A beautiful rose tree grew in the garden. Every morning she smiled up at the golden sun. But one morning when the sun rose, he was surprised to see that his friend, the rose, drooped sadly. He sent one of his warm rays down to earth to find out what the matter was.

“Dear Rose,” said the bright sunbeam, “why do you droop and look so sad?”

“Ah, me!” sighed the rose, “I am so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating my leaves, and he will not crawl away.”

The sun felt very sorry for the rose. “I will not shine,” he said, “until Rose is happy.” So he hid behind a dark cloud.

The wind came hurrying along. “Father Sun,” he cried, “why are you not shining to-day?”

“Ah, me!” answered the sun, “dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. I will shine no more until Rose is happy.”

“I, too, am so sorry,” whispered the wind. “I will blow no more until Rose is happy.” So saying he dropped to the earth and was still.

A bird was surprised when the wind stopped.

“Mr. Wind,” he called, “why have you stopped blowing?”

“Ah, me!” sighed the wind. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more and I will blow no more until Rose is happy.”

“I, also, love Rose,” sang the bird; “and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.” He flew away silently to his nest in the oak tree.

“It is not night,” said the old tree; “why are you not flying and singing, little bird?”

“Ah, me!” chirped the bird. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.”

“That is all very sad,” whispered the tree. “I shall drop no more acorns until Rose is happy.”

Soon the squirrel came to gather some nuts. But he could find very few.

“Dear Tree,” he chattered, “please drop down some acorns.”

“No,” answered the tree. “I cannot, now.”

“Why not?” asked the squirrel.

“Ah, me!” rustled the tree. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, and I will drop no more acorns until Rose is happy again.”

“And I will work no more,” chirped the squirrel. “I will run away to my nest in the old hollow tree.”

On the way to his home the squirrel met Mrs. Brown Duck.

“Good morning, Mr. Squirrel,” quacked the duck. “Why are you not working this morning?”

“Ah, me!” replied the squirrel. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, Oak Tree will drop no more acorns, and I will work no more till Rose is happy.”

“Then I will swim no more,” said Mrs. Brown Duck. And she waddled off to the barnyard. There she met Mrs. White Hen.

“Why do you look so sad, Mrs. Duck?” said the hen.

“Ah, me!” quacked the duck. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, Oak Tree will drop no more acorns, Squirrel will work no more, and I will swim no more until Rose is happy again.”

“Indeed! Indeed!” cackled Mrs. White Hen. “Pray tell me how stopping your work will help Rose. If you wish Rose to be happy, you must do something for her. Come with me.”

Away hurried the hen and the duck until they came to the rose. The old hen asked no questions. She did not even take time to say “Good morning.” But she cocked her head first on one side, then on the other, searching through the leaves of the rosebush with her bright little eyes. Suddenly she darted forward. “Snap!” went her bill, and the worm was swallowed.

“There, Mrs. Duck,” clucked the hen, “see how I have helped Rose and at the same time got a nice breakfast for myself.”

At once the rose looked up toward the sun and smiled. Thereupon the sun began to shine.

“If I had only thought,” said the sun, “I might have burned that worm with my hot rays.”

“And I might have blown him away,” whistled the wind, springing up suddenly.

“If I had only thought,” sang the bird, “I might have had a nice fat worm for breakfast.”

“And so might I,” quacked the duck as she waddled away toward the pond.

The oak tree shook down a great shower of acorns, and the squirrel hastened to gather them. They, too, wished they had thought of some way to help Rose.

But the clever old white hen said nothing at all.

THE SANDMAN

truth

shoes

(oak)
cl oak

The Sandman comes across the land,
At evening, when the sun is low:
Upon his back a bag of sand—
His step is soft and low.
I never hear his gentle tread,
But when I bend my sleepy head,
“The Sandman’s coming!” mother says,
And mother tells the truth, always!

I guess he’s old, with silver hair,
He’s up so late! He has to go
To lots of children, everywhere,
At evening, when the sun is low.
His cloak is long, and green and old,
With pretty dreams in every fold—
His shoes are silken, mother says,
And mother tells the truth, always!

He glides across the sunset hill,
To seek each little child, like me:
Our all-day-tired eyes to fill
With sands of sleep, from slumber’s sea.
I try my best awake to stay,
But I am tired out with play;
“I’ll never see him!” mother says,
And mother tells the truth—always!

—MARIE VAN VORST

BILLY BINKS

(d art)
st art le

c ast les

h urr y
p urr

(f elt)
m elt

pres ent ly

en tered

blazed

di rect ly

ter ri ble

dis ap peared

(pl ace)
f ace

(eight)
n eigh ed

(sm ile)
m ile

waul

trav eled

fin ished

hor ri ble

front

ter ri fied

re mem ber

(d ance)
pr ance

(st ar)
f ar ther

(r oof)
h oof

(r oar)
s oar

en e mies

for tune

sau cers

prom ise

broom

Once upon a time a little boy named Billy Binks set out to seek his fortune. He traveled alone for many a weary mile, but at last he met a little gray pony.

“Where are you going, Billy Binks?” neighed the pony.

“I am going to seek my fortune,” said Billy Binks.

“May I go, too?”

“If I take you, will you help me win my fortune?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I will carry you on my back and kick all your enemies with my hard hoofs.”

“Very well, you may come along.”

Then they went on a little farther and met a cow.

“Where are you going, Billy Binks?” mooed the cow.

“I am going to seek my fortune,” answered Billy Binks.

“May I go, too?”

“If I take you, will you help me win my fortune?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I will moo, and toss your enemies on my sharp horns.”

“Very well, you may come.”

When they had walked on a little farther they met a dog.

“Where are you going, Billy Binks?” barked the dog.

“I am going to seek my fortune,” answered Billy Binks.

“May I go, too?”

“If I take you, will you help me win my fortune?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I will bark, and bite your enemies with my sharp teeth.”

“Very well, you may come.”

After walking a little farther they met a cat.

“Where are you going, Billy Binks?” mewed the cat.

“I am going to seek my fortune,” answered Billy Binks.

“May I go, too?”

“If I take you, will you help me win my fortune?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I will purr, and scratch your enemies with my sharp claws.”

“Very well, you may come.”

They continued their journey and presently met a raven.

“Where are you going, Billy Binks?” croaked the raven.

“I am going to seek my fortune.”

“May I go, too?”

“If I take you, will you help me win my fortune?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I will croak, and peck your enemies’ eyes out with my sharp beak.”

“Very well, you may come.”

On and on they walked till at last they entered a deep, dark wood. All day they journeyed through this forest, which grew denser and darker as night came on.

“We are near a clearing in this wood,” croaked the raven, who had been soaring above the treetops. “Let us keep right on.”

Suddenly all were startled by a bright light, the brightest any of them had ever seen. It flashed out through the trees directly in front of them. It fairly dazzled and blinded them. Then it as suddenly disappeared, and left them standing terrified in the pitch-black darkness of the night.

Again the light flashed out, and again disappeared.

“What can it be?” asked Billy Binks, hoarsely, as soon as he could find his voice.

“Perhaps it is a lamp,” mewed the cat.

“No, it is too bright for a lamp,” answered Billy Binks.

“It might be a house on fire,” barked the dog.

“No, if it were, we could see the light all the time; and besides, there is no house here. I have flown this way before,” answered the raven.

“It may be a lighthouse,” said Billy Binks.

“No,” replied the raven, “the sea is miles from here. You all keep still while I fly over the treetops and find out what it is.”

Billy Binks and his animal friends kept ever so quiet, while the raven flew up and quickly disappeared in the darkness. It seemed hours before he returned.

“Oh, my friends,” croaked the raven, alighting in their midst at last, “you never saw such a sight! There’s the most horrible, monstrous hob-goblin over there in the clearing. He has a nose as long as a broomstick—”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Billy Binks and his friends.

“—Eyes as big as saucers and as green as the sea—”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Billy Binks and his friends.

“—And a mouth big enough to swallow us all!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Billy Binks and his friends.

“He has a great fire blazing among some rocks. That is the light you saw. When he walks in front of it you cannot see the light. That is why you thought it disappeared.”

“I see! I see! I see!” said Billy Binks and his friends.

“He is busy melting gold, and he has piles of gold and jewels hidden in his cave—”

“Ah, ha!” laughed Billy Binks, as he climbed bravely upon his gray pony.

“His cave is full of nice plump field mice—”

“Mew! Mew!” cried the cat, as she scrambled up behind Billy Binks.

“In the bushes back of the cave live many rabbits—”

“Bow-wow!” barked the dog, as he bounded toward Billy Binks.

“Near the cave is a large green meadow, with the sweetest grass and the coolest brook in the world—”

“Moo! Moo!” lowed the cow, as she, too, hurried up beside Billy Binks.

“And there is a tall tree that will make a fine home for me,” finished the raven, as she flew over Billy Binks’s head.

“Come on, friends,” whispered Billy Binks, boldly. “It is time to win my fortune. Remember you have all promised to help me.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll help. And I think I see my fortune, too,” answered each of the animals, now as bold as Billy Binks.

Softly, quietly, and slowly they crept through the forest. Presently they came to the clearing. There stood the ugly, black hob-goblin, bending over his fire. His back was turned toward them.

“Now!” shouted Billy Binks, and they all rushed at the terrible monster.

The raven dashed into his face and pecked at his large green eyes.

The cat scratched great gashes in his long nose.

The dog bit him, and the horse kicked him.

The enraged cow rushed upon him with lowered head, caught him on her horns, and tossed him as high as the treetops.

Then the cow began to bellow.

The dog began to howl.

The cat began to waul.

The raven began to caw.

The pony began to prance.

And Billy Binks began to shout with all his might.

Such a frightful din that old hob-goblin had never heard! He picked himself up from the sharp rocks where he had fallen, and dashed away with might and main through the forest. If he hasn’t stopped, he is running still.

“Ho, ho!” cried Billy Binks, springing from the gray pony and running to the mouth of the cave. “This heap of gold and this pile of jewels will do for my fortune. If you carry them safely home for me, Pony, I will build you a beautiful stable, and you shall have a full crib of oats before you all the rest of your life. That will be your fortune.”

“This cave, full of good, plump mice, is my fortune,” called the cat, as she pounced on the first unlucky mouse.

“All these rabbits shall be my fortune,” barked the dog, as he set off in hot haste after a fleeing bunny.

“And this green meadow is my fortune,” mooed the cow, as she began to crop the sweet grass.

“Who could have a better fortune than this?” croaked the raven, flying to the top of a tall tree.

So Billy Binks said “Good-by” to his friends, and left them each with his fortune. He quickly bagged the gold and jewels, threw them across the pony’s back, and mounting, hurried off homeward.

The pony smelled oats all the way, while Billy Binks saw castles and lands on all sides.

WHEN THE LITTLE BOY RAN AWAY

(s ist er)
tw ist ed

wan der ed

aw ful

(r oam)
f oam ing

ech o

(under)
th under

par ents

trun dle

When the little boy ran away from home,
The birds in the tree-top knew,
And they all sang, “Stay!” but he wandered away
Under the skies of blue.
And the wind came whispering from the tree,
“Follow me, follow me!”
And it sang him a song that was soft and sweet
And scattered the roses before his feet
That day, that day,
When the little boy ran away.

The violets whispered, “Your eyes are blue
And lovely and bright to see,
And so are mine, and I’m kin to you,
So dwell in the light with me.”
But the little boy laughed, while the wind in glee
Sang, “Follow, follow me!”
And the wind called the clouds from their home in the skies
And said to the violet, “Shut your eyes!”
That day, that day,
When the little boy ran away.

Then the wind played leapfrog over the hills
And twisted each leaf and limb;
And all the rivers and all the rills
Were foaming mad with him;
And ’twas dark as the darkest night could be,
But still came the wind’s voice, “Follow me!”
And over the mountain and up from the hollow
Came echoing voices with, “Follow him; follow!”
That awful day,
When the little boy ran away.

Then the little boy cried, “Let me go, let me go!”
For a scared, scared boy was he.
But the thunder growled from a black cloud, “No!”
And the wind roared, “Follow me!”
And an old gray owl from a tree-top flew,
Saying: “Who are you-oo? Who are you-oo?”
And the little boy sobbed, “I’m lost away!
And I want to go home where my parents stay.”
O, the awful day
When the little boy ran away!

Then the moon looked out from a cloud and said:
“Are you sorry you ran away?
If I light you home to your trundle bed,
Will you stay, little boy, will you stay?”
And the little boy promised—and cried and cried—
He never would leave his mother’s side,
And the moonlight led him over the plain;
And his mother welcomed him home again.
But, O, what a day
When the little boy ran away!

HOW THE BEAN GOT ITS BLACK SEAM

(ea gle)
ea ger

(h ush)
cr ush

mo ment

quar rel

coun try

(r ope)
h ope

(m ean)
b ean

gur gling

four

pour ing

sew ed

hul lo

cru el

tor rent

both er

a las

in stant ly

Once upon a time there was a poor old woman living in a village of a far country. She had gathered some beans and was making ready to cook them. She built a fire of sticks, but, as these were damp, they did not burn well. So she thrust in a handful of dry straw. Now the flames leaped up, and the sticks snapped and crackled in the blaze.

A live red coal flew out of the fire, fell on the ground beside a straw, and lay there smoking. Just then a bean dropped from the pot which the old woman was filling, rolled away, and came to rest close to the coal and the straw.

“Hullo, Mr. Coal,” said the straw. “How you smoke! Are you frightened? Where did you come from?”

“I just sprang out of that fire,” answered the coal. “Had I not jumped just as I did, I should now be nothing but ashes. My, look at that blaze!”

“I, too, jumped in the nick of time,” spoke up the bean. “That cruel old woman was just pouring me into the pot when I leaped over the edge, and here I am.”

“Yes, here you are, silly thing,” broke out the coal and the straw together. “But what are you going to do? As soon as the old woman turns around she will spy you, then back you’ll go into the pot. It’s hotter now than when you left it.”

“Don’t bother about me; think of yourselves,” answered the bean, angrily. “When the old woman picks me up, she’ll tread on you, Mr. Coal, and crush your life out. And you, Mrs. Straw, she’ll stick into the blaze. It’s hotter there than in the pot.”

“Come, come,” said the straw, softly, “let’s not quarrel. Let’s be friends and stick together. Perhaps we can save ourselves yet.”

“You are quite right, Mrs. Straw,” said the coal.

The bean said nothing, but she listened eagerly to the plans of the two others. These soon agreed to travel together to a far country, where they hoped to find their fortune. They set out without delay, and the bean rolled along behind.

Soon the three travelers came to a little gurgling brook. It seemed to them a mighty rushing and roaring torrent.

“Oh, dear, what shall we do now?” asked the bean, speaking for the first time since the journey began. “We can never get across these awful waters. Hear them thunder down the rocky cliffs!”

“Don’t worry, little Bean,” said the straw, proudly. “I’ll help you and Mr. Coal across in a twinkling.”

Thereupon the straw laid herself across the stream. She was just long enough to reach from bank to bank.

“Now walk over the bridge, Mr. Coal and Miss Bean,” called the straw.

The coal hastened on to the straw bridge while the bean watched in wonder. All went well until the middle of the stream was reached, when the bridge bent so low under the weight of the coal and the waters thundered so loudly that the coal stopped in fright.

The coal stood still for only a moment. But, alas, that was a moment too long.

The dry straw smoked, burst into a tiny flame, and broke in two. Down fell the coal into the water below and was instantly drowned. The burning straw bridge also fell into the water, which put out the flames, and the two pieces of straw went floating away down stream.

All this the little bean saw, watching safely from the bank. And she thought it the funniest thing that ever happened. So she laughed and she laughed—until she burst!

This would have been the end of little Miss Bean, had not a tailor passed that way just then. He was sorry for the poor bean, so he picked up the two parts tenderly, and quickly sewed them together. But the thread that he used was black. And ever since that time some beans have a black seam around them.

FRIENDS

(tw ist)
wh ist ling

ferns

North

com fort ed

gent ians

North Wind came whistling through the wood
Where the tender, sweet things grew—
The tall fair ferns and the maiden hair,
And the gentle gentians blue.
“It’s very cold! Are we growing old?”
They sighed, “What shall we do?”

The sigh went up to the loving leaves.
“We must help,” they whispered low.
“They are frightened and weak, O brave old trees!
But we love you well, you know.”
And the trees said, “We are strong—make haste!
Down to the darlings go.”

So the leaves went floating, floating down,
All yellow, and brown, and red,
And the frail little trembling, thankful things
Lay still, and were comforted.
And the blue sky smiled through the bare old trees,
Down on their soft warm beds.

—L. G. WARNER.

HELP ONE ANOTHER

(m outh)
s outh

splen did

(m ount ain)
f ount ain

“Help one another,” the snowflakes said,
As they cuddled down in their fleecy bed.
“One of us here would not be felt,
One of us here would quickly melt;
But I’ll help you, and you help me,
And then what a splendid drift there’ll be.”

“Help one another,” the maple spray
Said to its fellow leaves one day;
“The sun would wither me here alone,
Long enough ere the day is gone;
But I’ll help you, and you help me,
And then what a splendid shade there’ll be.”

“Help one another,” the dewdrop cried,
Seeing another drop close to its side;
“The warm south wind would dry me away,
And I should be gone ere noon to-day;
But I’ll help you, and you help me,
And we’ll make a brook and run to the sea.”

“Help one another,” a grain of sand
Said to another grain close at hand;
“The wind may carry me out to the sea,
And then, oh, what will become of me?
But come, my brother, give me your hand,
We’ll build a mountain and then we will stand.”

And so the snowflakes grew to drifts;
The grains of sand to a mountain;
The leaves became a summer shade;
The dewdrops fed a fountain.

THE DROWNING OF MR. LEGHORN

(g irl)
wh irl

point

waul

mat ter

(s ea)
r ea son

arm
f arm

heav y

(c ane)
v ane

else

horse

perch

One day Mr. Leghorn, the rooster, and Mrs. Leghorn, the hen, were out walking. They came to a wide, deep brook. Mrs. Leghorn, who was light and quick, flew safely across; but Mr. Leghorn, who was heavy and slow, fell, splash! into the water.

Mrs. Leghorn was sure Mr. Leghorn was drowned. So, without turning to see, she flew screaming and cackling toward the farmyard.

“What does ail you, Mrs. Leghorn? Why are you screaming and cackling so loudly?” asked the Wind-Mill as Mrs. Leghorn flew past.

“Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned. That’s why I am screaming and cackling so loudly,” replied Mrs. Leghorn.

“What a pity! I’ll swing my arms and creak. That’s the best I can do for poor Mr. Leghorn.” And the Wind-Mill fell to swinging his arms and creaking with all his might.

When the Big Barn Door heard the Wind-Mill creaking and saw him swinging his long arms, he called out, “What ails you, Wind-Mill? Why do you swing your arms and creak so?”

“Why, Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned, and Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling. That’s why I swing my arms and creak,” answered the Wind-Mill.

“Poor Mr. Leghorn, poor Mrs. Leghorn!” said the Big Barn Door. “I’ll slam and bang. That’s the best I can do.” And the Big Barn Door fell to slamming and banging with all his might.

The Old Red Ox heard the Big Barn Door slamming and banging, and cried out, “O, Big Barn Door, why are you slamming and banging so?”

“Reason enough,” answered the Big Barn Door. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; and Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking. That’s why I am slamming and banging so.”

“How sorry I am,” said the Old Red Ox. “I’ll paw the ground and bellow. What else can I do?” And he fell to pawing and bellowing with all his might.

“What is the matter, Old Red Ox?” asked the Watch Dog. “Why are you pawing and bellowing so?”

“Matter enough,” answered the Old Red Ox. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking; and Big Barn Door is slamming and banging. That’s why I am pawing and bellowing so.”

“O dear me,” said the Watch Dog. “I’ll bark and whine. That’s all I can do.” And he fell to barking and whining with all his might.

The Old Gray Horse heard the Watch Dog barking and whining, and said, “What is the matter with you, Watch Dog? Why do you bark and whine so?”

“Wouldn’t you bark and whine if you could?” answered the Watch Dog. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking; the Big Barn Door is slamming and banging; and the Old Red Ox is pawing and bellowing. That’s why I am barking and whining.”

“The poor things!” said Old Gray Horse. “I’ll prance and neigh. What more can I do?” And he fell to prancing and neighing with all his might.

The Weather-Vane looked down from his high perch and saw the Old Gray Horse prancing and neighing. “What’s the trouble, Old Gray Horse?” he called out. “Why are you prancing and neighing so?”

“Trouble indeed,” answered the Old Gray Horse. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking; the Big Barn Door is slamming and banging; the Old Red Ox is pawing and bellowing; and the Watch Dog is barking and whining. That’s why I am prancing and neighing so?”

“O dear, O dear,” said the Weather-Vane, “what shall I do? I’ll whirl and point. That’s all I can do.” And he fell to whirling and pointing with all his might.

Pussy Cat looked up and saw Weather-Vane whirling and pointing. “O, Weather-Vane,” she cried out. “Why do you whirl and point so?”

“Because I can do nothing else,” answered the Weather-Vane. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking; the Big Barn Door is slamming and banging; the Old Red Ox is pawing and bellowing; the Watch Dog is barking and whining; and the Old Gray Horse is prancing and neighing. That’s why I am whirling and pointing so.”

“O, how sad!” said Pussy Cat. “I’ll waul and squall. That’s the best I can do.” And she fell to wauling and squalling with all her might.

At this moment, when Pussy Cat was wauling and squalling, when the Weather-Vane was whirling and pointing, when the Old Gray Horse was prancing and neighing, when the Watch Dog was barking and whining, when the Old Red Ox was pawing and bellowing, when the Big Barn Door was slamming and banging, when the Wind-Mill was swinging his arms and creaking, when Mrs. Leghorn was screaming and cackling, Mr. Leghorn flew to the highest rail on the fence and crew,

“Cock-a-doodle-doo,
What’s the matter with you?”

THE STARVING OF MRS. LEGHORN

po lite

seized

bun dle

bas ket

dis tance

praise

stretched

of fer ing

shrieked

fi nal ly

faint ly

fierce ly

doz en

smart

bunch

wool

eas y

own

Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn often went nutting. Mr. Leghorn was very polite and kind to Mrs. Leghorn. He ran about searching everywhere for nuts. When he found one he would call to Mrs. Leghorn, who would hasten to him. Then he would pick up the nut, roll it over and over, lay it down, and pick it up again a dozen times, all the time telling Mrs. Leghorn what a very nice nut that was, what a good hen she was, and how smart he was to find nuts for her. At last he would drop the nut before Mrs. Leghorn, who would peck it once or twice to make sure that all Mr. Leghorn had said of it was true, and then swallow it whole, without once offering to share it with Mr. Leghorn.

One day Mr. Leghorn found a very large nut, the largest nut he had ever seen. How proudly he called to Mrs. Leghorn! It took him a long time to tell all about that big nut and how he had found it, to praise Mrs. Leghorn’s goodness, and to brag about his own smartness. But finally he finished and turned the nut over to Mrs. Leghorn. She seized it greedily and was about to swallow it, but—it wouldn’t go down! She tried again and again, she stretched her beak wider and wider, but it was no use. The nut was too large.

Mr. Leghorn, who had been watching Mrs. Leghorn from a little distance, became alarmed.

“O, my poor Mrs. Leghorn,” he cried, “what shall I do? You can’t eat that nut; you’ll surely starve. What shall I do?”

“Run and ask Mr. Wise Owl,” said Mrs. Leghorn. “He can tell us what to do.”

So away ran Mr. Leghorn to the Wise Owl, screaming with all his might.

“O, Mr. Wise Owl,” he cried, “my poor Mrs. Leghorn is starving. She can’t swallow the big nut. What shall I do?”

“Who, who, who?” hooted the Wise Owl, blinking his great round eyes.

“Mrs. Leghorn, my Mrs. Leghorn, my own dear Mrs. Leghorn,” fairly shrieked Mr. Cock. “She can’t swallow the big nut. She will starve. Can you tell me what to do?”

Mr. Wise Owl stared straight ahead a moment—it seemed an age to Mr. Leghorn—then answered slowly, “Yes, Mr. Leghorn, I can tell you what to do. But you must first bring me a mouse.”

Away rushed Mr. Leghorn to Pussy Cat. “My good Miss Pussy Cat,” he cried, “dear Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Will you please catch me a mouse? I want it to take to Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, Mr. Leghorn,” answered Pussy Cat, “I will catch you a mouse, but you must first bring me a saucer of milk.”

Off flew Mr. Leghorn to Mrs. Mooly Cow.

“Dear, kind Mrs. Mooly Cow,” he said, “poor Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Will you please give me a saucer of milk? I want it to take to Miss Pussy Cat, who is going to catch me a mouse for Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, Mr. Leghorn,” answered Mrs. Mooly Cow, “I will give you a saucer of milk, but you must first bring me a bundle of corn.”

Away sped Mr. Leghorn to the Farmer.

“O, Mr. Farmer,” said Mr. Leghorn, “Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Please will you be so kind as to cut me a bundle of corn? I want it to take to Mrs. Mooly Cow, who is going to give me a saucer of milk for Miss Pussy Cat, who is going to catch me a mouse for Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Leghorn,” said the Farmer, “I will cut you a bundle of corn, but you must first bring me a new coat.”

Off hastened Mr. Leghorn to the Tailor.

“O, Mr. Tailor,” cried Mr. Leghorn, “Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Won’t you please give me a new coat? I want it to take to Mr. Farmer, who is going to cut me a bundle of corn for Mrs. Mooly Cow, who is going to give me a saucer of milk for Miss Pussy Cat, who is going to catch me a mouse for Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, Mr. Leghorn,” answered Mr. Tailor, “I shall be very glad to give you a new coat, but you must first bring me a pound of wool.”

Away hurried Mr. Leghorn to Mrs. Sheep.

“O, good Mrs. Sheep,” he said, “Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Do, please, give me a pound of wool. I want it to take to Mr. Tailor, who is going to give me a new coat for Mr. Farmer, who is going to cut me a bundle of corn for Mrs. Mooly Cow, who is going to give me a saucer of milk for Miss Pussy Cat, who is going to catch me a mouse for Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“To be sure, Mr. Leghorn,” said Mrs. Sheep, “I will give you a pound of wool, but you must first bring me a bunch of clover.”

Away ran Mr. Leghorn to the Farmer’s Wife.

“O, good, kind Farmer’s Wife,” cried Mr. Leghorn, “Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Won’t you, please, pull me a bunch of clover? I want it to take to Mrs. Sheep, who is going to give me a pound of wool for Mr. Tailor, who is going to give me a new coat for Mr. Farmer, who is going to cut me a bundle of corn for Mrs. Mooly Cow, who is going to give me a saucer of milk for Miss Pussy Cat, who is going to catch me a mouse for Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, yes,” answered the kind Farmer’s Wife, “I will gladly pull you a bunch of clover, but you must first bring me a dozen eggs.”

Mr. Leghorn fairly flew back to Mrs. Leghorn, who was still trying vainly to swallow the large nut. He seemed to forget all his politeness.

“Where’s your nest, Mrs. Leghorn, where’s your nest? Tell me this instant!” he shrieked.

Mrs. Leghorn had never told any one where her nest was. That was her secret; and she would not have told her secret now—not even to keep herself from starving—had she not been so frightened at Mr. Leghorn, who stood glaring at her fiercely. She thought he had gone mad and would do her harm. So she answered faintly,

“Under the corner of the barn.”

Away to the corner of the barn rushed Mr. Leghorn, where he found Mrs. Leghorn’s nest full of eggs. He took a dozen in a basket and hurried off to the Farmer’s Wife, who pulled him a bunch of clover, which he carried to Mrs. Sheep, who gave him a pound of wool, which he took to Mr. Tailor, who gave him a new coat, which he brought to Mr. Farmer, who cut him a bundle of corn, which he carried to Mrs. Mooly Cow, who gave him a saucer of milk, which he took to Miss Pussy Cat, who caught him a mouse, which he carried to Mr. Wise Owl.

“There, Mr. Wise Owl,” cried Mr. Leghorn, quite out of breath, “there’s a nice fat mouse. Now tell me what I shall do for poor Mrs. Leghorn, who is starving because she can’t swallow the big nut.”

“Who, who, who?” cried Mr. Wise Owl, staring sleepily at the fat mouse.

“Mrs. Leghorn, she is starving!” screamed Mr. Leghorn, now quite angry. “She can’t swallow the big nut. You said you would tell me what to do.”

“O, yes,” said Mr. Wise Owl, “to be sure, that’s easy. Just go and find Mrs. Leghorn some smaller nuts.”

MR. AND MRS. LEGHORN TO THE RESCUE

o cean

chas ing

urged

(c atch)
scr atch

(pl ace)
p ace

(p ast)
m ast er

(p ond)
be y ond

(ch ild)
w ild ly

scarce ly

(f eel)
h eel

(sm art)
st art

(own)
un kn own

af ter noon

Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn went for a stroll one afternoon. They had never been far from home and they soon came into unknown places. But they wandered on and on, chasing grasshoppers and crickets, and now and then stopping to scratch for a worm, until they finally came to the bank of a frog pond.

“Look, Mrs. Leghorn,” said Mr. Leghorn, “there’s the ocean, the wide, blue ocean that we have heard so much about.”

“Indeed it is,” answered Mrs. Leghorn. “Could you believe we had come so far!”

Splash!... _Splash!_

“What was that?” cried Mrs. Leghorn.

“What was that?” cried Mr. Leghorn.

“Help me out! Help me out!” came a deep voice from the pond.

“Me, too! Me, too!” came a little, peeping voice from the same place.

“Why, that’s our good master and his little boy,” cried Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn together.

“They’ve fallen into the ocean!”

“Help me out! Help me out! Me, too! Me, too!” came again from the pond.

“Yes, good Master, yes,” screamed Mr. Leghorn, “we’ll help you. But what shall we do?”

“Bring a rope! A rope!” came the answer.

“A rope, a rope!” cried Mr. Leghorn. “O, where shall we find one?”

“Just beyond! Just beyond!”

Mr. Leghorn ran wildly along the bank with Mrs. Leghorn following close on his heels. They looked to the right, and they looked to the left; they looked up, and they looked down; but no rope could they see.

“Hurry up! Hurry up!” came from the water.

“O dear, O dear!” cried Mrs. Leghorn.

“O, where is that rope?” cried Mr. Leghorn.

“Follow your nose! Follow your nose!” came the voice.

At that, Mr. Leghorn flew along faster than ever. Mrs. Leghorn could hardly keep in sight of him. But no rope could they find.

“Hurry up! Hurry up!” came from the pond and urged them on, whenever they began to slacken their pace.

“Going down! Going down!” came the deep voice.

“Me, too! Me, too!” came the peeping voice.

“O, they are drowning, they are drowning!” screamed Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn.

“Let ’em drown! Let ’em drown!” came the voice.

“What!” cried Mr. Leghorn.

“What!” cried Mrs. Leghorn.

“Better go home! Better go home!” called the deep voice.

Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn stood staring at each other. They could scarcely believe their ears.

“Go to roost! Go to roost!” came the voice.

Mr. and Mrs. Leghorn began to look silly. The sun had set and it was growing dark. They turned about and started off homeward.

“You’re fooled! You’re fooled!” sounded after them as they left the banks of the pond.

“He told the truth that time, even if he is only a frog,” said Mrs. Leghorn.

Vocabulary

Most of the words used in the preceding books of the Aldine Series are used frequently in this Second Reader. They are not listed in this vocabulary, however; here are given only the words used for the first time in this book. The number at the left of a word refers to the page on which the story begins in which that word is first used. New words are listed in the text immediately before the lesson in which they are used.

A

36. about
53. above
163. across
16. afraid
172. afternoon
21. age
160. ahead
151. ail
151. alarmed
138. alas
65. already
8. among
8. angry
36. animal
46. ant
151. arm
5. ash
77. astray
133. awful
16. awoke

B

91. ballad
115. bang
16. bank
26. bark
84. barn
160. basket
138. bean
26. bear
160. became
46. began
12. begged
21. believe
26. bellow
172. beyond
6. black
117. blazed
160. blinking
138. bother
62. bow
160. brag
53. branch
81. bravely
26. breathes
102. breeze
138. bridge
16. brook
117. broom
145. brown
94. build
160. bunch
160. bundle
26. burrowed
107. bush
138. burst
46. buy