Chapter XXXVII: Good-By, Mary Frances. Come Again! 325 (3)

Tiny rubbed her tiny little eyes with her tiny little hand, and looked about her in amazement. She was very near the cottage she had so much admired. “I’d love to peep in the windows,” she thought, “but it would be so rude. I guess I’ll walk over toward the fountain.”

“Oh, here comes a hand-organ and a little monkey!” Tiny put her hand in her pocket to find a penny, but all she found there were three chestnuts, each no bigger than a period. “Poor little monkey!” said Tiny as he came up to her, lifting his hat, “you must be tired. I wonder if you’d like these nuts.”

The monkey smelled of the nuts, lifted his hat, looked at his master, and nodding his thanks, began to eat them.

“He no tired,” said the Italian organ-grinder. “He work only two hours a day.”

“Good!” said Tiny. “Does he play the rest of the day?”

“He play, play, play,” smiled the man, and passed down the street.

“My,” thought Tiny, as she walked along, “I wish I had taken some money with me this morning. If I had a nickel, I’d buy some bananas from that banana-man’s fruit-stand. I certainly am hungry.”

“Want banan’s?” inquired the man as she stood looking at his wares.

Tiny nodded. “I haven’t any money,” she said, trying to keep from crying.

“Never mind,” smiled the man, “I had little girl once. She gone. She die. I give banan’s you.” He handed her a half-dozen bananas no bigger than pencil points.

“Oh, thank you,” said Tiny. “I’ll never forget how kind you are.”

But the man was on his way down the street before she finished.

She felt much better after eating and stood for quite a while watching the little fountain play and splash.

Away in the distance she heard a dog bark, and at the edge of the village she saw a tiny newsboy and with him a tiny dog, no bigger than a capital letter. Under his arm he carried tiny newspapers no bigger than postage stamps.

“Not much news in such a tiny paper!” thought Tiny, watching the fountain splash. “Some day I’ll buy one to see what it says.”

Suddenly she realized it was getting dark; people passed by her and went into the houses. She felt very lonely and a little frightened. “Oh, dear,” she thought, “I do wonder where I’ll sleep to-night? I wonder if it’s against the law to sleep on the park benches?” She went over and sat down on one. “I guess I’ll try sleeping here, anyhow.”

She was just going to stretch out, when she saw a policeman coming toward her just as fast as he could walk.

“Come, come!” he said. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you around here before! What’s your name? Where do you live?”

“Please, Mr. Policeman”--Tiny tried to keep her voice from shaking--“my name is Tiny and I’m lost.”

“Tiny! Tiny! Tiny what? What’s your other name?”

“They call me ‘Tiny girl’,” said Tiny.

“Tiny Girl!” grunted the policeman. “Girl! I’ve never heard of a Mr. Girl or a Mrs. Girl around here! Oh, I know--I understand now--you’ve run away from home--that’s what you’ve done!”

“Oh, no, sir,” began Tiny, but the policeman took her hand, and walked toward the town hall.

“You’ll have to sleep over there to-night,” said he, pointing to the building, “in care of the police matron; and in the morning we’ll see what we can find out. Children that run away we always put in the lock-up.”

They were inside the door now, and the policeman rapped three times on the tiny table. Out came the police matron. Tiny thought she looked rather severe.

“Matron,” said the policeman, “I found this little girl on one of the park benches. She cannot tell me where she lives--she says she’s lost and that her last name is Girl--Tiny Girl. You know there is no family of the name of Girl in this whole town. Put her to sleep in a bed and if anything turns up to-night to show who she is, I’ll let you know. In the morning we’ll investigate. Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Officer,” said the police matron.

“Come,” she said to Tiny, “let me wash you and comb your hair, and give you some bread and milk. I’m certainly sorry such a little girl should be a runaway. Your clothes show you have a careful mother.”

“I didn’t run away,” sobbed Tiny; “I tell you I didn’t!”

“How did you come here, then?” asked the matron, stopping combing her hair.

“I was a big, real girl,” said Tiny, “and--and I was walking in the woods, with my mother’s permission, when a bird flew ahead of me and he beckoned me to come on. I wandered and wandered and I came to this place. I stepped on the walk, and--and--and--I--melted into the tiny little thing I am--so there! How I wish I had my mother----”

“Oh, what a story! What an awful story!” cried the police matron. “Stop right away! We don’t allow children to tell lies here!”

“It’s not a story,” began Tiny, but the police matron dragged her to a tiny bedroom, and undressed her and put her to bed.

“You will have your supper in bed,” said she, “then I’ll be sure of where you are!” And she brought a bowl no bigger than a cherry-stone full of bread and milk for Tiny’s supper.

At first Tiny couldn’t eat a mouthful, but she was really very hungry, and finally she ate it all up.

“Mother will find me somehow,” she thought, as she slipped out of bed and knelt to say her prayers.

_Tiny is Adopted_

The next morning Tiny was awakened by a knock at her door.

“Good morning,” smiled the police matron. “I have a delightful surprise for you.”

“Good morning. What can it be?” cried Tiny. “Did my mother----?”

“You’ve nearly guessed,” nodded the police matron, helping her put on her shoes and stockings. “You’re going to have a mother, for a dear old lady--Mrs. Bountiful--wants to adopt you.”

“To adopt me? Why, I thought all adopted children lived in orphanages.”

“Oh, my, no!” exclaimed the police matron. “Children that run away are often----”

“I didn’t run away!” Tiny stamped her tiny foot. “I tell you I didn’t.”

“Come, come,” said the police matron, “you don’t want me to tell your new friend that you have a bad temper and tell stories.”

Tiny certainly did not, and as she was now washed and dressed she went down-stairs with the police matron.

“Here she is, madam,” said the police matron very politely as she led Tiny to where the dearest bit of an old lady was sitting.

“Oh, you dear child!” exclaimed the tiny lady. “You’ve had no breakfast, have you?”

“I just got up,” whispered Tiny, not liking to let her think that the matron had been neglectful.

“Well, well,” smiled the little old lady, “we’ll soon see to that. I have my automobile outside. Good-by, Mrs. Matron.” And taking Tiny by the hand she went out.

“This is my son,” said the little old lady, as they walked up to the car. “He can drive an automobile beautifully. Shake hands with Tiny, Martin.”

“How do you do?”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Martin, lifting his tiny cap.

“Let us drive right home,” said his mother. “This dear little girl hasn’t had any breakfast.” They climbed in, and away Martin drove, down the street through the village park, past the fountain, over to the edge of the village, up to--where do you think?--right up in front of the cottage which Tiny had first seen in the little village.

“Oh, isn’t it a beau-ti-ful home!” she cried.

“How glad we are that you like it,” said the little lady. “Welcome to Rose Cottage.”

“Walk--right--in--Welcome--to--Rose--Cottage,” cried a new voice as they entered. It was a shrill, nasal voice.

Tiny looked around, but saw no one. “Look! I’m--right--here,” cried the voice again.

The little lady laughed. “All right, Polly,” she called, and Tiny saw in one corner of the room a pretty green-and-red-and-yellow poll-parrot.

She wanted to go nearer and pet him, but his mistress hurried her to the breakfast table.

“Let--us--take--a drive,” called out Polly presently.

“Why, yes, let us. Shall we go now, Martin?” asked Mrs. Bountiful.

“Yes, Mother,” smiled the big boy.

“Take--us--all,” called Polly, “Take--us--all--don’t--forget--the--monk.”

“Why,” asked Tiny, who had been very quiet, “what does he mean?”

“He means,” laughed the little lady, “that we take Martin’s pet monkey and Polly for a drive quite often--and they are both very much spoiled.”

“Oh, how lovely!” cried Tiny. “Have you a monkey, too?”

Martin brought the monkey, and his mother took the parrot, and they all got into the automobile.

“Where do we go first, Mother?” asked Martin.

“Will you excuse me, dear,” the little lady asked, “if I whisper? I want to surprise you.”

Tiny nodded and smiled, as his mother leaned over to reach Martin’s ear.

They drove along the park and over into the business part of the village, up to the livery-stables and stopped.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the liveryman said.

“Bring him out,” nodded the little lady, and the man disappeared into the stables.

Soon he led out the dearest little brown-and-white Shetland pony--no bigger than a cricket.

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Tiny. “I’d like to kiss him!”

The little old lady laughed delightedly.

“He’s yours,” she cried. “Get out and try to ride him.”

Martin helped her into the wee saddle, the liveryman gave her a tiny whip and the pony cantered all the way down the street and back again.

“Oh, I never thought I’d own a real live pony,” sighed Tiny, patting the little thing’s neck. “It seems too good to be true.”

“Let us go down to the candy shop,” said Tiny’s fairy godmother.

The candy shop wasn’t far away and when they drew up outside, Martin fastened the pony to the lamp-post. The little old lady took Tiny into the shop.

“Here, dear,” she said, opening her purse, “are two dollars. Spend them both. You can have all the candy and ice cream you want.”

So Tiny ate five plates of ice cream and three boxes of candy.

“It was splendid,” she said to the little lady when they’d gotten home. “I’d like to kiss you for all these lovely times.”

“I’m so glad, dear motherless child,” said the little lady with tears in her eyes.

“But I’m not motherless--” began Tiny.

“There, there, we’ll forget about that,” interrupted her new mother.

That night she tucked Tiny into bed quite early.

I must tell you about Tiny’s bedroom. All the woodwork and furniture were white. On the floor was a rose-colored carpet, with a border of pink and white roses and green leaves. At the windows were white curtains with pink roses along each edge. On the little white bureau was a tiny set of golden brushes and combs and boxes and bottles, and in a gold vase on the dressing-table was a very beautiful bouquet of tiny real roses.

Everything was so sweet that Tiny used up nearly every word of praise she knew, and she fell asleep before the little lady had finished tucking her in bed.

It must have been near midnight when Tiny was awakened very suddenly by an awful pain.

She cried out loudly for her mother.

The little lady hastened to her room.

“You poor dear!” she cried. “Martin shall go immediately for Doctor Curum.”

Martin was back with the doctor before Tiny realized he had started.

“Well, well,” said the doctor, looking Tiny over, “this young lady has been having too good a time--eh?”

“Oh, Doctor,” cried the little old lady, “will she die? It is my fault. I gave her too much candy.”

“Don’t worry,” smiled the doctor, quickly opening his case. “These medicines will cure her.”

“I will stay with you, dear,” said the little lady, after seeing the doctor to the door.

Tiny soon fell asleep and did not wake until early daylight.

“My, I feel all right,” she thought, stretching her little arms over her head. “How glad I am! But what smells so queer? I believe it’s smoke! Oh, it is! Something’s on fire!”

She sprang out of bed. The little lady had fallen asleep in the tiny white rocking-chair on the other side of Tiny’s bed. She looked so sweet in her rose kimono with a sweet smile on her lips, that Tiny hadn’t the heart to waken her.

“How tired she must be,” thought Tiny. “I’ll find out where the fire is first.”

She slipped into her clothes, and was soon out-of-doors. She saw immediately where the fire was--over on the next avenue, where smoke and flame were coming out of the roof of a building.

_Tiny Discovers a Fire_

“Oh, oh,” thought Tiny, “what shall I do? I know!” as she spied the pony in the stable where Martin had put him the night before. “I’ll ride over to the fire-house and tell them, and then I’ll ride to the house and warn the people.”

“Do your best, Love Trot,” she whispered to the dappled pony.

He pricked up his ears, and picked up his feet, and in no time to speak of Tiny was at the fire-house.

Just as she reached the door, a big dog (at least it seemed big to Tiny, for it was almost the size of Love Trot) came around the corner of the building. He raised up his head and barked as he ran toward her.

Tiny was so scared that she quickly jumped on the pony and was going to ride away, when a window of the fire-house opened and a man called out:

“Don’t be afraid, little girl, that’s Big Jim, the fire dog. He helps with all the fires. He won’t bite you. Lie down, Jim.”

Jim spread himself down at the pony’s side, wagged his tail, and looked up at Tiny with big brown eyes which seemed to say he was sorry he frightened her.

She soon explained her errand and was riding at full speed to the house that was on fire.

Down the street clanged the engine drawn by the beautiful little fire horses. Then came the hose-wagon, and then all the firemen with the ladders, and Big Jim, who was riding as though he were the most important member of the fire company.

Meanwhile, the little lady awoke. She sniffed the air and opened her eyes.

“Tiny,” she said, “how are you, dear? It seems to me I smell smoke. Doesn’t it to you?”

She looked at the bed.

“Where has the child gone?” she cried. “All her clothes are gone, too!”

“Martin! Martin!” she called. “Martin, get right up, and go to the police station in the town hall. Tiny has run away--has run away again!”

“All right, Mother,” answered Martin from his room. “I’m already dressed, I’ll ride the pony right over there.” But Trot was gone, and Martin ran all the way.

“Why, why didn’t you take your automobile and chase after her?” asked the policeman when Martin told him the story. “That’s the best thing to do now. I’d go help you--but I’m needed at the fire. You’d better start right away, you don’t want to lose any time.”

“Oh, yes,” answered Martin, “I know. I know. I’ll go right home and take out the car--but where do you think I had better chase to first?”

“Inquire of the first person you meet,” called out the policeman.

Martin and his mother were soon in the car, but there were few people on the street, as nearly all had gone to the fire.

“Drive on a way,” said the distracted little lady. “Drive anywhere. It’s better than sitting still.”

They hadn’t gone very far before they saw Tiny riding Trot toward them.

“Were you worried?” she called, hailing them from a distance. “I went to the fire-house to warn them of the fire.” She explained it all to them as she came up to the car; how she wakened, and smelled the smoke, and how she didn’t like to waken the little lady, and how she saw Trot fastened in the stable, and how she rode him to the fire-house.

“Dear, dear girlie,” said the little lady. “How brave you are! I’m so glad you didn’t run away again.”

“I never ran away,” answered Tiny. “I never, never ran away!”

“We know you did once, dear,” said the little lady; “but we’re trying to forget that.”

XIX

TINY HAS MORE ADVENTURES

“IT seems to me,” said the little lady, a few days after the fire, “that it would be nice for you to start in school, Tiny dear. I met Miss Spectacles yesterday, and she asked me whether I was not going to send you soon. ‘I don’t want the truant officer to inquire into the case,’ she explained.”

“Oh, nothing could please me better!” exclaimed Tiny. “I love you dearly, but it would just be splendid to know some children.”

Martin and the little lady took Tiny in the automobile to the schoolhouse, which was the most delightful school building Tiny could imagine. It stood on the center of a green lawn. All kinds of swings and games were arranged in the playgrounds. The little lady introduced Tiny to her teacher.

“I’m glad to have so brave a child under my care,” smiled Miss Spectacles, “for I’ve heard all about Tiny and the fire.”

Tiny blushed and stood on one foot. “It didn’t seem very brave to me,” she said, “but I’m glad you think you’ll like me.”

After the little lady had gone, the teacher showed Tiny to a desk and gave her lesson-books. Tiny studied the lessons well, and when recess-time came was quite ready for play.

The children stared at her a good deal, for no doubt they too had heard about the fire, and many had seen her on her pony; but she was so friendly in her manner that the girls soon overcame their shyness and began to talk with her.

There was one particularly pretty girl who was especially nice to Tiny, and gave her half her apple to eat. There was another little girl whose mother combed her hair in one braid at the back of her head. Just as she started to talk with Tiny, one of the boys came along, and pulled the little girl’s hair.

“Hello, Piggy,” he said. “Hello, Piggy. Piggy-wiggy, Piggy-wiggy.”

“Oh, dear,” said the little girl, “I do wish they wouldn’t call me names.”

“For shame!” Tiny called to the boy. “It is dreadfully rude for you to call names. I won’t like you one bit if you call names.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the boy. “I don’t care! Piggy-wiggy wears a pig-tail.”

“Never mind, dear,” said Tiny. “I believe I can make him stop.”

Then the bell rang.

After school Tiny went to the boy. “Listen,” she said, “what’ll you take to stop calling names?”

“What’ll I take?” repeated the boy.

“Yes,” said Tiny, “will you promise to stop if I give you ten cents?”

“Nope,” said the boy. “It’s too much fun.”

“Will you take a quarter?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” said Tiny, “that’s all I have. I spent all the rest of my money for ice cream and cake.”

“Say,” said the boy, “are you offering for honest?”

“Certainly,” said Tiny.

“Well, then, I’ll take a ride on your pony to stop. How about that?”

“Oh--” began Tiny, “I----”

“I’ll always call her Piggy if you don’t,” said the boy.

“How far?” asked Tiny.

“Far’s I want to go,” answered the boy.

“I’ll let you know to-morrow,” said Tiny, for that was the last thing she wanted to pay, and she was worried.

“I’m afraid school doesn’t agree with our Tiny,” said the little lady to Martin that evening, “she is so quiet.”

Tiny, who was playing the pretty white piano, turned.

“I was thinking, dear lady,” she said, and she told of Piggy-wiggy.

“Humph,” said Martin. “That’s easy. Let me know who that fellow is and I’ll stop him.”

“Can’t you manage better than that, son?” asked his mother. “Why not let the boy ride Trot when you and Tiny are nearby in the car, and can see that he is treated right?”

“That’s a splendid idea,” cried Tiny, kissing the little lady. “Will you, Martin? I know the boy is just crazy to ride the pony.”

So a plan was agreed upon, and the boy did have a ride on Love Trot, and he did stop calling the little girl names, and Tiny had the joy of knowing she had made two people happy.

_Tiny Saves a Baby’s Life_

“Tiny,” said the little lady after school the next day, “don’t you want to run over to the grocery shop and get some sugar for the pudding?”

“Indeed I do,” laughed Tiny; “there’s nothing I like better than pudding, you know.”

The grocerman was very pleasant and Tiny noticed he gave her extra good weight.

“Shall I send it home for you, Miss?” he asked as his grocery wagon drove up.

“No, thank you,” said Tiny, “I’ll carry it,” and the wagon drove on.

As Tiny reached the corner, she saw a baby toddling across the street.

“I wonder that baby’s mother lets it go out alone,” thought Tiny.

Just at that minute the grocer’s horse and wagon dashed around the corner. Tiny saw in a moment what would happen if somebody didn’t run to the baby, so dropping her bag of sugar, which burst open and spread all over the ground, she ran as fast as she could and was just in the nick of time to drag the baby out of the way of the wagon.

“Bless me! Bless me!” panted the policeman, running up. “I hurried as fast as I could. If it hadn’t been for this little girl,” he continued to the baby’s mother, who was now crying, “that baby would---- Why, it’s the little girl that ran away! How do you do?”

“I didn’t run away,” sobbed Tiny; “I didn’t.”

“Well, well,” said the policeman, “I guess we can begin to forget it by this time. After the fire warning and this----” But Tiny was hurrying away to the store to get more sugar.

“I do hope they won’t worry at home,” she thought.

“That’s the girl,” said the grocer’s boy as Tiny went into the store. “She was just in time.”

He had been telling about the near-accident.

The grocer couldn’t thank Tiny enough for saving the baby’s life, and he asked her to ride in the grocery wagon so that she would get home sooner.

“I was so afraid you would worry, dear lady,” she said as she told the story, “and I spilled all the sugar--every bit.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so thankful you were not hurt,” said the little lady, “that I would give a hundred bags of sugar--you, dear brave little heroine,” as she took her on her lap.

“My mother,” began Tiny, “was something like you and----”

“Hush, dear,” said the little lady, smoothing her hair.

“You like to go to school, don’t you?” she asked to change the subject.

“My, I never enjoyed school so much in all my life,” said Tiny.

“Oh, you used to go, of course, didn’t you?”

“Always,” said Tiny, “my father was--” and her voice began to sound full of tears.

“Strange,” said the little lady to herself. “Very strange why she ran away. Maybe we’ll find out some day. I’ll inquire again if the police have found out anything more about her.”

_Tiny Goes Shopping_

The next morning Tiny took her pig-bank from the mantel and began to count her money.

“Wasn’t your mother dear to give me all this spending money, Martin?” said Tiny to Martin as he came into the room. “I do wonder how much there is; won’t you please help me count it?”

“Seven dollars and eighteen cents,” counted Martin, laying down the last coin. “My! that’s a lot of money, Tiny. What are you going to do with it?”

“Oh, Martin, don’t tell, please. Oh, it must be a secret! I do want it to be a surprise!”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me,” said Martin; “but what’s the secret?”

“Why, Saturday is your mother’s birthday, and I’m going to buy her a present.”

“Grand. What will you buy?” he asked.

“I really don’t know,” said Tiny, “but I’m going shopping this afternoon after school. I’ve had permission to get out early, because I told Miss Spectacles about the surprise.”

“Wasn’t that kind of her!” said Martin.

“People are often kinder than they seem,” said Tiny.

Just as she put the bank in its place on the mantel, Mrs. Bountiful came in. “Why, dear,” said she, “what a saving little girl you are; I haven’t given you any money in a long time; here is a dollar.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Tiny, “but you have been so good to me, I don’t like----”

“Never mind, dear,” said the little lady. “Come, it’s time to go to school.”

“I’ll be ready in a minute, as soon as I get my books.”

“Here is a banana for recess,” said Mrs. Bountiful, following her and kissing her good-by.

On her way out as Tiny passed the mantel, she quickly slipped her bank into her school-bag.

“Good-by, all,” said she.

She could scarcely wait for the time to come for her to go shopping, and it seemed almost a week until Miss Spectacles nodded her head that she might be dismissed.

On her way to the store, she would put her hand in her school-bag every once in a while to see if the bank was safe.

She had been to the Globe Department Store with Mrs. Bountiful more than once.

“What shall I buy?” she thought.

Just then she noticed a cute little china cat. She picked it up. “That’s certainly cute,” she thought, “but not very useful,” so she put it down and picked up a little stuffed dog. “Neither is that,” she concluded and put it down.

“Do you wish anything?” asked the saleslady politely.

“No, thank you,” replied Tiny.

She picked up several funny little images, and was so much interested that she did not notice that any one was near until she heard a voice, a man’s voice, speaking to the saleslady in an undertone: “I’ve been watching that child for some time, Miss Sellum; please keep an eye on her.”

“Oh, I don’t think she’d take anything, Mr. Knockem,” replied the girl.

Tiny looked around. No one was in sight except the pretty saleslady and a tall, haughty-looking man.

“I wonder who they mean?” thought Tiny. “Oh, they must mean me because I touched those things,” and she burst into tears.

“I never stole anything in my life--not a single--thing--ever,” she sobbed. “I’m Mrs. Bountiful’s--little--girl----”

“Mercy!” exclaimed Miss Sellum.

“Pardon me, Miss,” begged the floor-walker--for that was who Mr. Knockem was, and right scared he was, too, for Mrs. Bountiful was one of their best customers. “I didn’t mean any harm. Can I be of assistance to you?”

“Why, sir,” said Tiny, drying her eyes, “it’s all right--I shouldn’t have touched anything, I know, but--I’m trying to select a present for Mrs. Bountiful’s birthday. It comes Saturday, you see----”

“Oh, that’s it, that’s it, is it?” asked a new voice. It was so kind, and full of joy that Tiny knew she’d like its owner before she looked up at the kindly, bald-headed gentleman who had joined them.

“Leave the little miss to me, Mr. Knockem,” he said.

“Oh, certainly, Mr. Storem; certainly, sir,” said the floor-walker.

“Well, my dear,” said the stout gentleman, “I believe I can help you. I know Mrs. Bountiful quite well. The other day she was in the store inquiring for vanity hand-bags.”

“The kind all filled with golden powder boxes, and mirrors, and coin holders?” asked Tiny eagerly.

“Yes,” smiled Mr. Storem, “and here they are at this counter. Miss Prettyman, will you show those bags to Miss----”

“My name is Tiny, sir,” said the little girl, much pleased with the lady, who brought several bags for her to see.

“How much is this?” she asked, selecting a charming violet one, lined with dainty flowered silk.

“Five dollars,” said Miss Prettyman. “I’ve sold bags for years, but I never saw so lovely a one at that price.”

“I’ll take that, please,” said Tiny, reaching into her school-bag for her bank.

“Oh, dear,” she cried, “how am I going to get the money out of my pig?”

You should have heard Mr. Storem laugh. “Well, well,” he said, “I guess I’ll have to help you.”

So he helped Tiny “fish” out the five dollars.

Just then some one called him away.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Miss Tiny,” he said.

When the cash girl returned with the parcel, the saleslady handed it over to Tiny just as if she were grown up.

“Gee,” exclaimed the cash girl, “ain’t she swell, Miss Prettyman, with the owner of the store escorting her around!”

“Is he? Does he own this store?” asked Tiny, wide-eyed.

“Yes, Miss Tiny,” said Miss Prettyman.

Just at that moment Mr. Storem returned.

“Is there anything else, Miss Tiny?”

“Oh, I don’t like to trouble you, sir,” began Tiny.

“Tut! Tut! Don’t mention it, little one,” said he. “The gentleman who just called me told me you are the little girl who warned the people about the fire, and saved the baby’s life. It is an honor to do anything to help you.”

Tiny blushed. “Thank you. Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, please show me where I can get some beads to make a necklace for Mrs. Bountiful.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Storem. “Right this way.”

Tiny selected some beautiful beads, and Mr. Storem helped her again in getting the money from her bank.

“Mrs. Bountiful will love the necklace if I make it,” she said. “She told me it is the kindness and the thought more than the costliness of a gift that counts. My own mother always----”

“Your own mother!” exclaimed Mr. Storem. “Your own! Isn’t Mrs. Bountiful your mother?”

“Why, no, sir,” exclaimed Tiny.

“I read it in the Tinytown News. I read about a little girl who ran away,” interrupted Mr. Storem.

“I didn’t,” said Tiny. “I didn’t run away, but nobody believes me.”

“I do, dear,” smiled the big man. “I do!” and Tiny loved him for it.

“Good-by!” she said, “and thank you! Thank you more than I can tell you.”

It was rather late when she reached Rose Cottage, but the little lady had been called out to see a sick neighbor, so she was able to hide her gifts away. Finally Saturday came. Tiny wrapped her gifts in tissue paper and tied them with blue ribbon, and laid them on the breakfast table at Mrs. Bountiful’s place.

The little lady was delighted. She opened the bag and took out the purse and powder box and examined them and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Oh, you made the necklace yourself? Isn’t it lovely, my dear?” she sighed. “You are just such a darling, loving, thoughtful little girl as I always dreamed of for my own daughter.”

“Put on your finery, Mother,” said Martin, handing her the bag and throwing the necklace over her head.

“My present,” exclaimed Martin, “is in my room,” and, excusing himself, he brought a pretty hand-carved tea-table.

“I made it for you myself, Mother.”

“Was there ever such a happy old lady as I!” cried Mrs. Bountiful, putting her arms around both the children.

“Was there ever one who gave other people so much happiness?” asked Tiny.

_Tiny’s Mother Finds Her_

“I wish I could tell mother about everything,” thought Tiny as she walked along the road to school. “My, what perfectly lovely times I have had, and how dear the little lady is; but I do miss mother. How frightened she must be!”

A tear dropped from her eye.

“I won’t cry, though,” she thought. “Mother surely will find me! I know she’s looking everywhere!”

Just then she noticed a tiny little bird in the branches of the tree overhead.

“Wick--wick!” he sang.

“Oh, you pretty little thing,” cried Tiny.

The bird flew to a low bush, Tiny following. On and on they went, until Tiny was surprised to find herself at the end of the town.

“Why, I’m almost lost again,” she thought, “I better turn back.”

“Wick--wick!” sang the bird, as he alighted on a tree just outside the town.

To Tiny’s amazement, he was no longer a little bird, but the same big golden-winged woodpecker that she had followed into the forest when she left home. She was just about to run after him when a shadow fell across the roadway and she looked up.

“Mother!” she cried. “Oh, Mother!”

For the shadow was that of her mother who had gone out into the woods to look for her.

She stretched out her tiny little arms, but she was so very small her mother didn’t see her.

“Oh, Mother, here I am,” she cried, running toward her.

She stepped off the edge of Tinytown, and in a second she was her own self again, as big as ever.

How she laughed and cried and hugged and kissed her mother. Then she told all about Tinytown--just as I’ve told you, and showed her the lovely little Rose Cottage, the town hall, the school house, the church, the fire-engine house and the shops.

“Mother, they were all so perfectly dear to me I hate to leave them,” she said.

“Why, Tiny, girl,” laughed her mother, “we can visit Tinytown again, now we know where it is--then you can always keep your friends.”

“Yes, and I can explain to them, Mother dear, how they were mistaken, and I didn’t run away.”

But when Tiny and her mother came to look for it a few days later, Tinytown was gone. The Story People had taken it for their own.

* * * * *

“What a sweet story!” exclaimed Mary Frances, when the Story Lady finished.

“Yes, it is a sweet story,” she returned, “and we were so glad to get it, and the town, too. It shows our children how the children of other countries live.”

“Aren’t you tired after telling so many stories?” asked Mary Frances.

“Oh, no, I never grow tired of hearing and telling stories; but I like to hear you talk. Won’t you tell me something from your country?”

“Yes--let me see. All I can think of is a little poem about a robin and a buttercup.”

“Do let me hear it.”

So she recited--

THE ROBIN AND THE BUTTERCUP[B]

Down in the field, one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
Save one, who tried to hide herself,
And drooped that pleasant weather.

A robin, who had flown too high,
And felt a little lazy,
Was resting near a buttercup,
Who wished she were a daisy.

For daisies grow so trig and tall!
She always had a passion
For wearing frills around her neck,
In just the daisies’ fashion.

And buttercups must always be
The same old tiresome color;
While daisies dress in gold and white,
Although their gold is duller.

“Dear Robin,” said the sad young flower,
“Perhaps you’d not mind trying
To find a nice white frill for me,
Some day when you are flying?”

“You silly thing!” the robin said,
“I think you must be crazy;
I’d rather be my honest self
Than any made-up daisy.

“You’re nicer in your own bright gown,
The little children love you;
Be the best buttercup you can,
And think no flower above you.

“Though swallows leave me out of sight,
We’d better keep our places;
Perhaps the world would go all wrong,
With one too many daisies.

“Look bravely up into the sky,
And be content with knowing
That God wished for a buttercup
Just here, where you are growing.”

[B] Sarah Orne Jewett.

“Oh, thank you,” said the Story Lady, “I like that. You must write it down for me. To-morrow you shall have a lot of stories.”

STORIES TOLD THE SECOND DAY

THE MAGIC MASK.--THE CLOSING DOOR.--TOM GOES DOWN THE
WELL.--GLOOMY GUS AND THE CHRISTMAS CAT.--PATTY AND HER PITCHER.

STORIES TOLD THE SECOND DAY

XX

THE MAGIC MASK

WHEN all the Story People were assembled, the Story King in his place, Mary Frances in the seat of honor beside the Story Queen, the Ready Writer at his table with pen in hand, the Story Lady began to tell one story after another. Even the clock ticked softly, as if listening, and no sound was heard except the sweet music of her voice as it ran from story to story, until five in all were told.

* * * * *

Many years ago, a little prince was born in a rich country across the sea. He had long been wished for, and great was the rejoicing throughout the land when he came.

As you may suppose, he was given everything he wanted. Indeed, if he were denied anything for a moment, he would set up so great a cry that the servants would run in haste to bring him what he desired; and if he were opposed by any one he would frown and stamp his foot, and throw himself into such a rage that his whole face would become ugly and distorted, and the little children would run in fear from him.

When he grew up, he delighted to fight; and nothing pleased him better than to put on his armor and helmet and ride forth at the head of his army.

He won many, many victories, and his country grew richer and stronger than it had ever been before.

By and by the time came when his father, the king, died, and the prince took his place. Then he wished for a queen, and began to think of a beautiful princess he had met in one of the cities which he ruled over. And the more he thought about her, the more anxious he was that she should become his wife. No one else was half so fair and lovely to his eyes.

So one day, he made up his mind to go to see the princess. He bade his servants deck him out in regal splendor, and put on him his royal robes and his jeweled crown.

“How do I look?” he asked his valet. “Did I ever appear more handsome?”

“Oh, no, your majesty,” replied the valet. “If you will look in the long mirror, you will see that.”

When the king looked in the glass, he saw a wonderful reflection. His robe was of velvet and satin in royal purple and green, jeweled, trimmed, and embroidered--nothing was wanting in the costume. Then he saw his own face--all seamed with frowns and hard, cruel lines.

“Oh,” he thought, “such a face will frighten the lovely princess! What shall I do? She will never be willing to marry me!”

And he sent all his servants away, and sat down in a fit of melancholy; or, as some people say, “in a fit of the blues.”

For hours he just sat and glowered. Once a page approached him to say that his luncheon was served, but he told him to be gone before he ordered his head chopped off. You can imagine how fast the page ran away. When the page told the other servants, they said, “We must not go near him until he rings for us when he comes out of his angry mood.”

After a while the bell did ring, and in fear and trembling the valet went to see what the king wished.

“Tell the groom to saddle my best steed and have it at the palace steps within ten minutes, and do you undress me and put me in my riding suit.”

Quickly the change was made, quickly the horse was saddled, quickly the king was mounted and riding away.

“No!” he thundered, when the groom rode up to attend him on his journey. “No one comes with me! I ride alone!”

Through forest and dale, through valley, stream, and over stubble the king rode, on, and on, and on, until he came to the home of the enchanter, Herlo.

Thrice he knocked at the door, and a deep voice bade him enter.

“Good-day, Enchanter,” said the king, lifting the latch and entering; “I have come on a most important errand.”

“I know your errand,” replied Herlo; “you wish to gain the princess Viola for a wife, and you fear she will not love you enough to marry you.”

“How can she, when she sees my face?” said the king. “I have come to ask your help. Is there anything you can do for me?”

The enchanter stopped to think, then he raised his head and told the king, “Yes; I have a plan, but it needs your own help. I can change your features if you will do as I tell you.”

The king was very glad, and he promised to do everything the enchanter bade him do.

“Very well,” said Herlo. “I will make you a magic mask of thinnest wax. It will be exactly the shape of your face, and no one will know that you are wearing it except yourself. I will paint it with my magic paint so that your features will look kind and pleasant, instead of fierce and stern. I will fasten it upon your face so that you need never take it off.”

“Make it”--said the king, “as handsome and attractive as you possibly can, and I will pay you any price you ask.”

“This I can do only with your help,” Herlo explained; “only on this one condition--that you keep your own face in exactly the lines I shall paint. One angry frown or one cruel smile will crack the mask apart and ruin it, and I can never replace it.”

Now the king wanted the princess for his queen more than anything else he had ever wished for, so he said, “Yes, I promise. Tell me what I shall do to keep the mask from cracking.”

“You must not lose your temper,” the enchanter told him. “You must think kind thoughts. You must try to make your people happy. You must help them, not by fighting, but by building libraries and schools and hospitals. You must see that there are none of your subjects in want; you must try to relieve all suffering, even of animals. You must follow this rule:

Help the weak if you are strong;
Love the old if you are young;
Own a fault if you are wrong;
When you’re angry, hold your tongue.

“Call here again within ten days, and the mask will be ready. Good-by.”

So the king rode away with happiness in his heart.

The ten days passed slowly enough, and he could scarcely wait for the last day to come. Early in the morning, he again rode alone to the home of the enchanter.

The magic mask was ready, and Herlo tried it on the king’s face. It fitted exactly, but it transformed his countenance. Gone was the ugly scowl; gone, the frown between his eyes; gone, the thin, straight, sullen lips. In their stead were pleasant smiles; and kind, tender eyes; and merciful, unselfish lips.

And again the king rode away with happiness in his heart, for Herlo had shown him his face in a glass.

The next day, he rode with his retinue of courtiers to the home of the lovely princess, and she thought him all that could be desired, and promised to be his wife.

And one wonderful day in the springtime they were married. Two years sped quickly away in great joy and happiness, for the princess found her husband to be even more kind and forbearing than she had thought he would be. The servants never could understand what had happened to change the king. Instead of being frightened by his presence, they were only too glad to serve him, and his royal household was the happiest in the world.

You would think that the king would have then been satisfied, wouldn’t you? But he was not quite satisfied, for one thing troubled him.

When the queen would smile in approval of his kindness, and his self-control, he would think, “I wish I had not deceived my dear wife. I wish she knew my own self.”

At last he could bear it no longer, and so one day he rode for the third time to the home of the enchanter, Herlo. And again Herlo met him at the door. The king said:

“O Herlo, I have come to you to ask you to take back your magic mask. I cannot wear it any longer, because I cannot bear to deceive my dear wife who thinks me so kind and good. Better the truth than to deceive so true and kind a person as my queen.”

“I warn you,” replied Herlo, “that if I once take off the magic mask, you can never have it replaced. Think carefully before I remove it.”

“Yes,” said the king, “I know, and I have weighed the question carefully. It is better to be my own true self than to live behind a false face. Better that the queen should despise me than to live under false pretenses and have her love when unworthy.”

So the enchanter took off the mask, and bade the king good-speed.

You can imagine how the king felt as he rode home this time; how he dreaded looking into his glass, although he knew he must do so before he entered the presence of the queen; and how he feared that what he most prized in this world was about to be lost--his wife’s loving trust in him.

But can you imagine his joy when he looked into the glass and saw his own face--for his own face was handsomer than the mask! The ugly frown and the wicked, cruel lines were gone, for his face had been molded into the exact likeness of the mask; and when he came into the presence of his wife she saw no difference in him. He was the husband she had always so much honored and loved.

* * * * *

“And they lived happily ever after,” finished the Story Lady. Then after a slight pause, she went on: “Now we will have a little goblin story.”

XXI

THE CLOSING DOOR

THERE was once a little girl, who had a dear little room, all her own, which was full of treasures, and was as lovely as love could make it.

You never could imagine, no matter how you tried, a room more beautiful than hers; for it was white and shining from the snowy floor to the ceiling, which looked as if it might have been made of a fleecy cloud. The curtains at the windows were like the petals of a lily, and the little bed was like swan’s down.

There were white pansies, too, that bloomed in the windows, and a dove whose voice was sweet as music; and among her treasures she had a string of pearls which she was to wear about her neck when the king of the country sent for her, as he had promised to do some day.

This string of pearls grew longer and more beautiful as the little girl grew older, for a new pearl was given her as soon as she waked up each morning; and every one was a gift from this king, who bade her keep them fair.

Her mother helped her to take care of them and of all the other beautiful things in her room. Every morning, after the new pearl was slipped on the string, they would set the room in order; and every evening they would look over the treasures and enjoy them together, while they carefully wiped away any specks of dust that had gotten in during the day and made the room less lovely.

There were several doors and windows, which the little girl could open and shut just as she pleased, in this room; but there was one door which was always open, and that was the one which led into her mother’s room.

No matter what Little Daughter was doing, she was happier if her mother was near; and, although she sometimes ran away into her own room and played by herself, she always bounded out at her mother’s first call, and sprang into her mother’s arms, gladder than ever to be with her because she had been away.

Now one day when the little girl was playing alone, she had a visitor who came in without knocking and who seemed, at first, very much out of place in the shining white room, for he was a goblin and as black as a lump of coal. He had not been there more than a very few minutes, however, before nearly everything in the room began to look more like him and less like driven snow; and although the little girl thought that he was very strange and ugly when she first saw him, she soon grew used to him, and found him an entertaining playfellow.

She wanted to call her mother to see him; but he said:

“Oh! no; we are having such a nice time together, and she’s busy, you know.”

So the little girl did not call; and the mother, who was making a dress of fine lace for her darling, did not dream that a goblin was in the little white room.

The goblin did not make any noise, you know, for he tiptoed all the time, as if he were afraid; and if he heard a sound he would jump. But he was a merry goblin, and he amused the little girl so much that she did not notice the change in her dear room.

The curtains grew dingy, the floor dusty, and the ceiling looked as if it might have been made of a rain cloud; but the child played on, and got out all her treasures to show to her visitor.

The pansies drooped and faded, the white dove hid its head beneath its wing and moaned; and the last pearl on the precious string grew dark when the goblin touched it with his smutty fingers.

“Oh, dear me,” said the little girl when she saw this, “I must call my mother; for these are the pearls that I must wear to the king’s court when he sends for me.”

“Never mind,” said the goblin, “we can wash it, and if it isn’t just as white as before, what difference does it make about one pearl?”

“But mother says that they all must be as fair as the morning,” insisted the little girl, ready to cry. “And what will she say when she sees this one?”

“You shut the door, then,” said the goblin, pointing to the door that had never been closed, “and I’ll wash the pearl.”

So the little girl ran to close the door, and the goblin began to rub the pearl; but it only seemed to grow darker. Now the door had been open so long that it was hard to move, and it creaked on its hinges as the little girl tried to close it. When the mother heard this she looked up to see what was the matter. She had been thinking about the dress which she was making; but when she saw the closing door, her heart stood still with fear; for she knew that if it once closed tight she might never be able to open it again.

She dropped her fine laces and ran towards the door, calling, “Little Daughter! Little Daughter! Where are you?” and she reached out her hands to stop the door.

But as soon as the little girl heard that loving voice she answered:

“Mother! Oh, Mother! I need you so! My pearl is turning black and everything is wrong!” and, flinging the door wide open, she ran into her mother’s arms.

When the two went together into the little room, the goblin had gone. The pansies now bloomed again, and the white dove cooed in peace; but there was much work for the mother and daughter, and they rubbed and scrubbed and washed and swept and dusted, till the room was so beautiful that you would not have known that a goblin had been there--except for the one pearl which was a little blue always, even when the king was ready for Little Daughter to come to his court, although that was not until she was a very old woman.

As for the door, it was never closed again; for Little Daughter and her mother put two golden hearts against it and nothing in this world could have shut it then.

* * * * *

As the story ended, the Story Lady paused while the clock ticked twice, and then said, “Next we will have a funny story about a silver teapot.”

XXII

TOM GOES DOWN THE WELL

“I SEE it, I see it!” cried Tom eagerly, balancing himself perilously over the well-curb. “It’s down at the bottom!”

“Did you suppose it would float?” asked Bess, with a touch of scorn in her tones.

“Let me see,” cried Bob, pushing forward.