Little Miss Dorothy

CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE ROSEBUD CALENDAR.

WHEN Ray was only a baby he would hold the woolly lamb that grandma had brought him in his chubby little fists, saying, “I love oo, lamb,” and there was a great colored ball that he liked to roll across the floor and say, “Oo ball, tum back, tum back.” Then he would run and catch it and hold it up to his dear little dimpled chin.

But when he grew to be quite a little man and could walk from room to room it pleased him to sit in the big chairs, look at the pictures and talk to them all by himself. There was one small picture card on his papa’s desk that Ray liked very much. It was the picture of a golden-haired girl standing beside a large vase, with a bunch of roses in her hand and a wreath of rosebuds on her head.

“I think she looks just like my cousin Dorothy,” said Ray, “only she wears her dress right down to her slippers and Dorothy’s dress is short.”

His mamma had told him that the picture girl was little Miss Calendar, but Ray liked to call her Rosebud.

One afternoon Ray was feeling rather tired. He sat all curled up in his papa’s easy-chair at the desk.

“Please, Rosebud, I wish you would talk to me,” said Ray wistfully, looking at little Miss Calendar with tired eyes.

The picture-girl smiled at him and whispered, “How do you do, Ray?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” answered the little boy; “but I didn’t know that you knew me.”

“Didn’t you?” replied Rosebud. “I know you very well indeed.”

“That seems strange,” said Ray; “how do you know me so well?”

“I see you every day and hear your mamma talking to you,” was the answer.

“Yes, of course you do, I never thought of that,” said Ray. “Perhaps you see everything I do.”

“I do indeed,” replied the picture-girl; “that is, I see everything you do in this room.”

“You must excuse me for throwing all the books on top of you when I was putting my papa’s desk in order. I hope it did not hurt you.”

“Of course I don’t like to have books thrown at me, it hurts my feelings,” said Rosebud sweetly.

“I wouldn’t do that for anything and I shall be more careful,” added Ray.

“Do you ever play?” asked the little boy thinking what a sweet little playmate Rosebud would be.

“O yes, when I’m not busy.”

“What do you do when you are busy?” asked Ray with curiosity.

“Well, you see,” said Rosebud, “all the days of the year are numbered right under my feet, and when people come in to see my calendar I smile and hold up my roses, so that they may know that it is a beautiful day and smile also.”

“But suppose it isn’t a beautiful day,” said the boy; “suppose it happens to be dark and rainy.”

“But every day is beautiful and if it is a little dark I try to look all the brighter.”

“I don’t like rainy days very well,” said Ray, “but perhaps they are nice.”

“Indeed they are,” answered Rosebud; “how bright the flowers look after a shower! And the dear rain washes everything, you know.”

“Rainy days are good, I forgot about the flowers and things,” said Ray and then added quickly, “If you were not busy now you might play with me.”

“I’ll tell you a story,” said Rosebud, “if you would like to hear me.”

Ray was delighted to hear a story and sat very still while Rosebud began:—

Once upon a time there was a little brown mouse whose name was Nibble. He built himself a snug house not far from the coal-bin in a nice warm cellar. Every day he attended to his household duties, called at his grocery store (the pantry up-stairs) and then went out for a quiet walk. One day he met Mrs. Ratt, who lived across the street, and he stopped to have a friendly chat with her.

“How do you like your tenants?” asked Mrs. Ratt.

“Very much indeed,” replied Nibble. “They are so exclusive that they won’t even tolerate a cat. Of course that shows their good sense, because of all creatures I do dislike cats, they are so——”

“Grasping,” sneered Mrs. Ratt.

“Yes,” assented Nibble, “and nosy, if I may use a vulgar expression.”

“And sly,” quoth Mrs. Ratt, shaking her head.

“Yes, indeed,” replied Nibble, “if those horrid cats had their way they would drive us out of existence.”

“Well, thank goodness, I’m not annoyed by the ill-bred creatures,” he added with a satisfied blink.

“No,” sighed Mrs. Ratt, “you are rich and prosperous while I have to scratch for a bite to eat.”

Nibble gloried in his good fortune, so he told Mrs. Ratt about all the good things he had to eat, and to crown this air of plenty he invited Mrs. Ratt and all her family to a party the following night. Then they parted and Nibble went home to arrange his house in neat order for his guests.

He had some fine old cheese and was going to make a rarebit for his friends, but he got so hungry that he ate it all up, and on the night of the party he found that he had but one cracker and a piece of an old shoe. He was disappointed, because he wanted to impress Mrs. Ratt with his abundance. He had just made up his mind to go to the grocery store before she came when he heard a little squeal outside his house, and on opening the door there stood Mrs. Ratt and all her children.

“Good evening,” said Mrs. Ratt, “I’m afraid we are a little late, but the fact is I’m rather timid, you know, and waited until it was quite safe.”

“You did perfectly right,” said Nibble. “I’m afraid you live in a very dangerous locality.”

“I should say so,” replied Mrs. Ratt, and she raised her eyes in horror. “There have been no less than five hold-ups within the last week, all my relations too,” she added with a squeal.

“Who is the desperado?” asked Nibble.

“Who should it be but our ancient enemy,” groaned Mrs. Ratt, shaking her head. “A precious pair of rascals by name Thomas and Maria, they are the terror of our peaceful community.”

“Horrors!” exclaimed Nibble, “those two midnight prowlers!”

“Yes,” sighed Mrs. Ratt, “not only committing deeds of violence, but disturbing the whole neighborhood with their orgies.”

“Well, well,” said Nibble, “there’ll be an end to it some time,” and Mrs. Ratt added quickly, “Yes, if there isn’t an end to us first.”

“I wonder people put up with their behavior!” exclaimed Nibble.

“Put up with it!” echoed Mrs. Ratt, with scorn, “they like it and encourage those cats in their evil doing. Why, only the other day I happened to be peeking through the blinds and there stood a man stroking this same notorious Maria and calling her pet names.”

“The idea!” said Nibble, “and what did she do, the pampered thing?”

“Why, even then, she had her back up about something,” was the answer.

“Suppose we think of something more pleasant to talk about,” ventured Nibble, in his sweetest tones, “these cats grate on my nerves.”

Just then the baby rat cried out, “I’m hungry,” and Nibble had to give him the only cracker to eat.

“Now, what shall I do?” thought Nibble; “there isn’t a thing in my house except that old shoe, and that will only sharpen their appetites.”

All at once a new thought struck him and he said, “I have a little surprise in store for you, my dear Mrs. Ratt; instead of having the party in my humble place, I thought we might go up-stairs where there is more light and air.”

“How delightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Ratt, while Nibble added, “Of course we will be just as quiet as possible to show the folks that we do not hold our gatherings after the manner of those ill-bred cats.”

“Certainly,” assented all the rats, and they followed their host out of the cellar and up the stairs so quietly that you would never have heard them.

They had supper in the pantry, and a most tempting repast it was! Crackers, cheese, apples, lump sugar and a delicious morsel of mince pie.

“How thoughtful your tenants must be!” said Mrs. Ratt, “this pie is really good.”

“Just like mother used to make,” said Nibble with a wink.

“But what have we here?” cried Mrs. Ratt, smelling a stone jug.

She got the stopper off and after taking a deep whiff exclaimed: “Elderberry wine as I live!” Then she raised her eyes and said: “Ah, Nibble, you are indeed blessed with the good things of this life!” Nibble waved one of his front feet as much as to say, “This is really nothing at all, you know,” when all at once those young rats knocked over the jug of wine. It made a terrible noise and very soon footsteps were heard approaching the pantry. In a second Nibble had started with all his friends behind him and never stopped running until he reached his house in the cellar quite breathless with excitement.

No sooner did he get in bed than he heard a terrible squeal in the street and he knew that something dreadful had happened to Mrs. Ratt and her family.

As he never saw them again he had strong suspicions that Thomas and Maria had added another crime to their long list of misdeeds.

Whether it was owing to the elderberry wine or the hasty flight, Nibble slept very sound that night and all the next day.

After that he felt better, and one morning he ventured to peep out.

Imagine his surprise when there sat a bold, bad cat looking at him.

“Good morning,” said Maria, pleasantly.

“How do you do?” returned Nibble with great dignity.

“O, won’t you come and play with me?” asked Maria in her most coaxing tones.

“No, thank you,” said Nibble, “I’m too busy.”

Thus sang Maria, and then laughed long and loud, but even this little serenade would not tempt Nibble from his cosy house.

“You are the handsomest mouse in these parts,” said the cat.

Nibble pricked up his ears; he did love to be flattered, and whispered, “Think so?”

“I’m sure of it,” answered Maria; “and if it was not for the fact that you’ve lost your tail you’d be the prince of fine fellows.”

“But I haven’t lost my tail,” declared Nibble; “it is very long indeed.”

“I can hardly believe that,” said Maria, “because the other day when you went up-stairs to the pantry I could not see any tail.”

“Did you see me the other day going into the pantry?” asked Nibble in surprise.

“O yes, indeed!” answered the cat.

Now this statement of Maria’s was not true, as she had never seen Nibble until that moment, but the foolish little mouse believed it, and thought if the cat did not hurt him on that other day she would not now.

“I’ll just run across the cellar and then you can see for yourself what a nice tail I have,” said the vain Nibble.

That was all the cat wanted. She caught Nibble and that was the last that was seen of him.

When Rosebud had finished this story she danced all around on her dainty toes. Then she glided slowly forward and backward, making low courtesies to the little boy. After a while her steps became faster and faster. She shook her pretty curls and beckoned to Ray, and before he knew it he was dancing too.

Rosebud took his hand, and together they danced all around the room.

The strangest part of it was that they danced over chairs and tables as lightly as if they were not there. O it was delightful, and Ray felt that if there had been a window open they would have danced right out and up to the blue sky. At last they stopped a minute, and just then there was a step in the hall and somebody opened the door.

It was Ray’s dear mamma who had missed her little boy and had come to find him.

“O mamma!” exclaimed Ray, “I want you to meet my little playmate.”

Ray turned to find Rosebud, but she was not there. Then he looked behind the chairs and in every corner but he could not find her.

He was just beginning to feel very much disappointed when he happened to looked on his papa’s desk. There was Rosebud in her old place on the picture standing with her bunch of roses and smiling at him.

CHAPTER III. THE BOY IN THE TEAPOT.

ON Aunt Polly’s table stood a blue china teapot. Such a pretty little teapot it was, with strange leaves and figures all over it, and right in the center was a queer little boy with two great birds, one on each side of him. He was dressed queerly too, not at all like the little boys you know. He wore a loose sack with very wide sleeves and a broad sash that went under his arms. His trousers were very wide and he had on the dearest little slippers with curled up toes.

Ray liked to look at Ah Lee (that was the teapot boy’s name) and wondered about him. And as our little boy often visited Aunt Polly he became very well acquainted with the strange little boy in the teapot.

One afternoon his auntie had company and Ray was among the guests. After having a cup of delicious tea, made in the blue china teapot, everybody looked at Ray and then stole softly into the parlor.

He was lying on his back on an old-fashioned lounge, his hands under his head, thinking about the teapot boy.

Imagine his surprise when all at once somebody said, “I think I’ll go home this afternoon.”

“Excuse me,” said Ray, who was not quite sure, “did you speak, Ah Lee?”

“Yes,” answered the boy in the teapot, “I’m going to take a flying trip home. Would you like to come?”

“Thank you,” said Ray, “I would like it very much, if you don’t stay too late.”

“Come along then,” replied Ah Lee, stepping down from the teapot and the two great birds with him. He jumped on the back of one of the birds and said to Ray, “Follow me,” and almost before he knew it, Ray was on the back of the other bird flying through the air behind the teapot boy. They flew over houses and high church steeples, over the tree-tops and telegraph poles, over deep woods and open green meadows. At last they came to a very large lake.

“Let us fly down here and water our birds,” said Ah Lee, beginning to descend on his great bird. Ray did the same, and when they were near enough to the water the birds put their long bills into it and took a deep drink. Then they rose into the air again and continued their journey over the land and over the sea.

“Is it very far?” asked Ray, as they flew along faster and faster all the time.

“We are almost there,” answered Ah Lee, and in a very few minutes they began to descend down, down, down, until they touched the ground.

The boys got off the birds and Ray looked about him. He had never seen such queer sights before. The people around him looked just like Ah Lee.

Almost before he knew it, Ray was on the back of the other bird flying through the air behind the teapot boy.—Page 32. Little Miss Dorothy.

They were dressed in soft, bright-colored silks and had long braids of straight black hair.

Ah Lee took Ray’s hand and they walked along till they came to a queer little house with a garden.

“Now you sit here and wait for me,” whispered Ah Lee, and he went into the house while Ray waited on a small black stool. He thought the flowers were very pretty about him, and he was just going to take one when a voice called out, “The Princess comes to the garden!” Ray turned to see who had spoken and beheld a little girl, who smiled at him and held a fan behind her ear. She asked him who he was and whence he came and when he had told his story she said:

“My name is Yan Lu and I attend the Princess.”

“How I would like to see her!” exclaimed Ray.

“Then follow me,” said Yan Lu. “I will hide thee behind a great plant and thou canst see the Princess when she comes.”

Ray followed Yan Lu and as they went along he could not help looking at her feet. Such tiny feet he had never seen! They were so small that she could hardly walk. She took little mincing steps and rested a great many times, looking behind at Ray and smiling.

“Are your shoes too tight?” asked our little boy, feeling sorry for Yan Lu and glad that his own shoes were so comfortable.

But Yan Lu looked down at her little feet and only laughed and then glanced slyly at Ray and laughed again. He began to think that perhaps they did not hurt her, she laughed so much about it.

Ray noticed that her hair was all done up in rolls and had great pins sticking through it.

“She is really a very odd little girl,” thought Ray.

They came to a large plant and Yan Lu told Ray to stand behind it. Then she waved her fan to him and took her little mincing steps again and walked off. In a few seconds Ray saw a procession coming. He kept very still, and as it came nearer he saw that four tall men were carrying a sort of chair in which a little girl was sitting.

“That must be the Princess,” thought Ray, and just then he caught sight of his little friend Yan Lu who walked behind the chair.

When they reached the spot where Ray was hiding the four tall men placed the chair on the ground and the little Princess arose and stepped out of it. She waved her hand and the men took the chair and walked away. Ray was not afraid of the Princess, but still he did not want her to see him, so he kept as still as a mouse behind the great plant.

She looked all round and suddenly peered through the leaves at Ray. Their eyes met and the little Princess said softly, “Peek-a-Boo!”

Ray could not help smiling, but he quickly stepped to the other side of the plant. The Princess did the same and, smiling through the leaves, whispered again, “Peek-a-Boo!” Then Ray came from behind the plant and stood face to face with the Princess and Yan Lu.

“Won’t you please tell me your name?” asked Ray, and the little Princess replied:

“Why, my friend, I have told it to you twice. My name is Peek-a-Boo.”

“Are you carried in that chair all the time?” asked Ray, and Peek-a-Boo replied:

“Most of the time; you see my feet are so small that I cannot walk very well, they are smaller even than Yan Lu’s.”

“What a pity,” cried Ray; “I hope they will grow bigger.”

“O no, little boy; they are all bandaged up so that they cannot grow!”

“It must hurt,” replied Ray.

“Well, perhaps it does a little,” said Peek-a-Boo with a giggle; “but in my country it is considered very nice for girls to have tiny feet.”

“My cousin Dorothy is a little girl like you,” remarked Ray, “and her feet are almost as large as mine.”

Both girls gave a little shriek at this piece of news and Peek-a-Boo said, “O-o-o! that must be dreadful!”

“O, no, it isn’t,” answered Ray quickly; “I think it is fine to have feet that you can run and jump with.”

Yan Lu laughed aloud and Peek-a-Boo giggled behind her fan.

“Would you like to play?” asked Peek-a-Boo suddenly.

Before Ray could answer Yan Lu whispered something to the Princess and she said, “Truly I forgot it is the great kite-flying day and my grandfather flies a ship.” She turned to Ray and said, “Come quickly.” He followed the two little girls down the garden path and all at once he saw the queerest sight. A number of people, old and young, were flying kites.

They were very much interested in it and Ray had never seen such queer-looking kites before. They were all sorts and sizes, and all at once Peek-a-Boo clapped her hands and cried, “There is my grandfather with his great ship.” Ray looked and saw an old man with a kite shaped like a great ship, and he was running hither and thither with it like a boy.

It was fun for Ray to watch him and he grew so excited that he ran to the old man and asked if he might help.

After much effort the great kite rose in the air and everybody seemed pleased. Ray watched a small boy whose kite was so far up in the air that it looked like a tiny white speck. All at once the boy began to draw down the kite, and when he caught it Ray saw that it was in the shape of a great fish.

When he had seen all the queer kites Yan Lu whispered:

“You must be hungry, come with me and get some dinner.”

Peek-a-Boo remained near her grandfather viewing the kites, while Ray followed Yan Lu into the house and sat at a table right beside his old friend Ah Lee. A small bowl was placed before him and two little wooden sticks. Ray forgot where he was for a minute and started to drum with them, but Ah Lee gently touched his foot and Ray remembered that it was not polite to drum on the table.

Ray had a dish of chop suee and a tiny cup of black tea which tasted very good indeed.

As they arose from the table he could hear voices singing in another room and it sounded just like this:—

It sounded so funny to Ray that he laughed aloud, but Ah Lee shook his head and Ray said quickly, “Please excuse me.”

“Are we going home soon?” asked Ray, as they went into the garden.

“Yes,” answered Ah Lee, “we are going now.” He took Ray’s hand and they ran quickly to the spot where the great birds were waiting for them.

Just as they jumped on the birds, Ray saw Yan Lu and the little Princess Peek-a-Boo waving their fans and saying “Good-by, come again from the land of big feet.”

Ray smiled at the two little girls and rose in the air on his bird.

In another minute he was flying; over lakes and rivers, mountains and valleys, and far over a great deep ocean where large ships were sailing.

Ray held on to his bird with all his might when they were flying over the dark water so that he would not fall.

Again they flew over steeples and house-tops and reached Ray’s country. Right down to Aunt Polly’s house flew the birds, but how they got into the house and how Ah Lee and his great birds got back to their old places on the teapot, and how Ray found himself on the lounge, I leave you, my dear little readers, to guess.

However, it was all done so quickly that nobody knew what had happened except Ray and the Boy in the Teapot.

CHAPTER IV. THE BRONZE WOMAN.

THE bronze woman held a brown jar on her head and stood on a rug in Dorothy’s parlor. One night just before bedtime Dorothy sat on the rug and tried to talk to the bronze woman, but she remained very silent, so after awhile Dorothy said “good night” and went with her nurse to bed. When she was alone, all tucked nicely in her little white bed she felt a draft of cold air blow right in her face and at the same time her window opened. There stood the bronze woman on the window-sill with her brown jar on her head looking at Dorothy.

“Where are you going?” asked the child, watching the woman in the moonlight.

“I’m going for water,” was the answer almost in a whisper.

“Can I help you?” asked Dorothy, who was a dear little maid, willing to help everybody.

“No, thank you,” said the bronze woman, “I am used to carrying it, but I’ll give you a ride on my head.”

“How good that would be!” exclaimed Dorothy, and she got into the jar which held her nicely and away she went with the bronze woman.

Her head came up to the top of the jar and she could look up at the stars and moon and wondered if she were going up to them.

But they did not seem to be going towards the sky as they passed along through the air. After awhile it grew so very dark that Dorothy could not see where she was going. However, she was not at all afraid, as she was safe in the brown jar, and enjoyed the queer ride very much. It seemed a very long time to her before it grew light again, but at last it was brighter, and the bronze woman stopped and sat down on the ground.

“Now, little girl,” said the bronze woman, “you may run about and play, while I go for the water.”

Dorothy was very glad to come out of the jar, because her legs were a little cramped. For several minutes she ran about, jumping and skipping to limber them up. At last she stopped and found herself on the bank of a very wide river. There was something that looked like a great black fish on top of the water, and Dorothy going nearer, saw that it was a crocodile. She had a picture of it at home, and papa had told her all about it.

While she was looking, a great many crocodiles, large and small, appeared on the surface of the water, and then came to the bank and sat in a row. Dorothy hid behind a small tree and watched them, and very soon more crocodiles came out of the water. Last of all, a long crocodile appeared, and he took a seat facing all the others.

“Why, it looks just like a school,” said Dorothy to herself, and in a few minutes she saw that it really was a school.

“It seems so funny to see crocodiles at school,” said the little girl, and she crept softly a little nearer. One large crocodile sat apart from the others with a great dunce-cap on his head.

Suddenly the teacher opened a book and said to the first crocodile, “Spell your name.”

“C-r-o-c-k-o-d-i-l-e,” spelled the crocodile who sat in the No. 1 seat.

“Wrong,” said the teacher. “Who can spell it?”

“I can,” said Dorothy, jumping up from her hiding-place. She forgot all about being afraid, and stood before the crocodiles and spelled the word correctly. It was Dorothy’s pet word and she often spelled it for papa.

“That is right,” said the teacher, “and you may stand at the head.”

The poor little crocodile who failed had to go to the foot of the class. He began to cry so hard that Dorothy felt very sorry for the poor thing and almost wished that she had not taken his place, but a great crocodile who stood beside her whispered in her ear:

“Those are only crocodile tears, you know,” and Dorothy felt better.

“Now tell me, what is the shape of the earth?” said the teacher to a small crocodile.

“Flat,” was the answer, and the teacher said, “very flat.”

This did not seem just right to Dorothy, and she was trying to think where she had heard that the earth is round. All at once it came to her mind that mamma had told her.

“The earth is round like an orange,” said Dorothy, jumping out of her place.

“It isn’t,” shouted a great fat crocodile, “the earth is flat and I’ll prove it.”

When he stood the whole school groaned, and the teacher said: “Sit down,” in a terrible voice. Somebody tried to pull the fat crocodile down in his seat, and several mud-balls were thrown at him. There was a great uproar for several minutes, and the teacher jumped up calling “order.”

“What a very unruly school,” thought Dorothy, and just then the teacher turned to her and said:

“How much are five and five?”

“Five and five are ten,” answered Dorothy promptly.

“Wrong,” said the teacher; “next.”

But before the crocodile could answer, Dorothy said in great excitement:

“If you please, Miss Crocodile, five and five are ten, because five and five couldn’t be anything else, you know.”

Then all the crocodiles giggled and the teacher looked very cross. But Dorothy stood very straight and said:

“Just look at my fingers,” holding up her dear little hands. “I have five fingers on this hand, and five on the other, and now I’ll count them.” She did it very nicely, and then said: “Now, don’t you see that five and five are ten?”

“But, little girl,” replied the crocodile teacher in a very solemn voice, “perhaps to boys and girls, five and five make ten, but to crocodiles five and five make——”

“Trouble,” shouted the crocodile with the dunce-cap on, who had been watching something else all the time.

At this word the whole school darted into the river, and not a trace of them could be seen. Dorothy looked around to see if she could find the cause of their hasty flight, and she beheld five little brown men, with long spears, dancing in the moonlight. Behind them came five others, and they all danced up to the edge of the river, waving their spears over their heads. Suddenly they stopped, and looking into the water gave a deep grunt saying:

“They have gone again.”

Dorothy kept very quiet, and the little brown men did not seem to notice her at all. After a while they danced away and were soon out of sight.

No sooner had the little men disappeared than Dorothy heard a great noise, and almost immediately a baby elephant came running up to her. He stared at Dorothy and began crying “boo-ho-o-oo!” in a most heart-rending manner. Dorothy sat on the ground, and tucking her night-dress under her toes, said: “What are you crying for?”

“I’ve lost my mamma,” cried the elephant louder than ever.

“You’re a big baby,” said Dorothy scornfully.

“What do you mean?” roared the elephant in a very angry voice.

“I mean you’re the largest baby I’ve ever seen,” answered Dorothy, smiling.

“Say what you mean,” said the elephant gruffly. Dorothy did not like to see anybody crying, not even a baby elephant, so she tried to talk to him.

“Excuse me,” said Dorothy, “but haven’t I seen you before—at the circus, you know.” She regretted the words as soon as spoken, because the elephant set up such a terrible roar and cried louder than ever.

“You never saw me at the circus,” he cried between sobs and boo-hoos, “it was my brother.”

“Well, never mind,” replied Dorothy cheerfully; “all babies, I mean elephants, look alike to me.”

Just then another elephant came along and Dorothy was glad to see that he was laughing. He stood right beside the crying elephant and he laughed so heartily that his sides shook. It was a very funny sight. Dorothy did not know just what to do, so she remained perfectly quiet and looked at them.

After a while the laughing elephant stopped a minute and making a very funny face, he said to the crying elephant:

“Tan’t oo find oo mammer?” Then he gave Dorothy a very naughty wink and laughed again. Dorothy could not help smiling at him. Suddenly he rolled on his back and the crying elephant ran away as fast as he could. Dorothy was very glad when he had gone and hoped he would find his mamma.

However, she was so very much interested in the funny elephant that she forgot about the other. The good-natured elephant did all kinds of wonderful tricks for her, laughing all the time. He stood on his head and put his hind feet right up in the air. Dorothy clapped her hands, and asked the elephant to do it again.

All at once he caught the little girl in his trunk and placed her carefully on his back. They trotted around and Dorothy had a splendid ride. Then he put her on the ground and tramped away. “O do come back!” she called after him, but just then the bronze woman with her jar appeared. “Did you get the water?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes, my child, and I carried it to my master’s house, now you must go home.” Dorothy got snugly into the jar again and the woman placed it on her head. Away they went through the still air towards home, and when they reached it the bronze woman tucked Dorothy in her little bed and left her.

CHAPTER V. THE FAIRY BELL.

THERE was a pretty little silver bell on papa’s desk, but the children never knew that it was a fairy bell until one summer afternoon.

It all happened in this way. They had been playing school and Dorothy was the teacher. She said:—

“When I ring this bell once you must sit up straight and when I ring it twice you must stand!” They played all the afternoon, and the teacher romped with the pupil and they both rang the bell until they were tired of it. All at once, as they sat in the great leather-covered chair, the bell began to ring itself, but instead of the little tinkle, tinkle, it sounded just like joyous wedding-bells.

The children rubbed their eyes and looked at the little silver bell, and there right on the top of it stood a beautiful little fairy with silver wings and a dress that shone like silver.

She smiled at the children and said. “You rang for me and I am here.”

“Who are you, please?” asked Ray.

“I am the fairy of the silver bell and my name is Tinkle.”

“Where do you live?” said Dorothy timidly.

“I live in Prince Jingle’s country, but when anybody rings for me I come to attend.”

“How I would love to visit Prince Jingle’s country!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Wouldn’t you, Ray?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Ray, “it would be fine.”

“Very well,” said the fairy, “you shall go. Take hold of the tongue of the bell with both hands and don’t let go till I tell you.” The children did as the fairy told them and in a few moments they were moving through the air under the silver dome of the bell.

“Don’t be afraid, children,” cried the fairy, “I am sitting on the top and will guide you safely.”

“Thank you,” said Ray, “what fun this is! Be careful, Dorothy, to hold on tight.”

All at once they stopped. The children felt something hard under their feet, and the fairy Tinkle said, “Come out, children, and go where you please.” Then she disappeared and the children looked around to see their new surroundings.

“I suppose this is Prince Jingle’s country,” said Ray; “let us walk through it.” Just as they started to walk, they heard the most beautiful bells ringing. It was like sweet music and far clearer and prettier than any chimes. In a short time they came in sight of a beautiful silver castle. Silver coaches and carriages were standing outside and lovely ladies were walking into the castle on the arms of handsome men.

“We must go in the castle, too,” said Ray.

But Dorothy exclaimed, “O dear, I couldn’t, because I’m not dressed nice enough.”

“Never mind that,” said Ray, “come along.”

“O, no,” cried Dorothy, “I’m not going, because I’ve nothing to wear.”

“Bother,” said Ray, “you girls are always saying that; do you ever feel that you are dressed nice enough?”

“N—no, I don’t think we ever do; still, if I had on my best dress, I’d go in.”

“Well, if you won’t come, I’m going alone,” returned Ray, and he started off and left Dorothy standing there.

“O Ray, come back! come back!” called Dorothy. “I’ll go with you.” But Ray was so far ahead that he never heard his little cousin calling, and the last Dorothy saw of him he was just going into the castle. Dorothy felt so badly to think that she was left alone she sat on the silvery ground and began to cry. Then a very queer thing happened. The first tear that rolled down Dorothy’s cheeks congealed into a tiny solid silver ball, and fell in her lap.

Dorothy stopped crying and gazed at the tear that had become a silver ball. She took it up in her hand, and all of a sudden it began to grow larger and larger. Then it changed a little in shape, and almost before Dorothy knew it her silver tear-drop had turned itself into the dearest little silver bell you ever saw.

“How pretty!” exclaimed Dorothy, and she rang the tiny bell that had been made from a tear-drop in her own blue eye.

It gave the prettiest little tinkling sound in the world and she liked it so well that she rang it again and again.

Suddenly there appeared before Dorothy a beautiful fairy in a shimmering gown of silvery gray.

“I am sorry you had to ring so many times for me,” said the fairy, “but I was busy dressing Princess Bell and I could not get here sooner.”

“I did not ring for you,” answered Dorothy, “but I am very glad you came.”

“Whenever that bell is rung I come,” said the fairy. “Pray tell me what I can do for you?”

The thought struck Dorothy that perhaps the fairy could give her something pretty to wear, and then she would go into the silver castle.

“If you please, good fairy, I would love to go to the castle, if you would help me with a pretty dress.”

“Certainly,” answered the fairy, and she touched Dorothy lightly on the shoulder. Instantly Dorothy’s white pinafore changed into a silvery robe all spangled and dazzling in its beauty.

Then she touched Dorothy’s ankle ties and they became silver slippers with a satin rosette on each one.

“O, thank you,” said the happy little girl, looking down at her beautiful dress.

“You are very welcome,” returned the fairy, and then added, “Shall I call a chariot?”

“If you please,” said Dorothy, who wasn’t quite sure what it was, but had a strong feeling that she wanted it. The fairy blew a tiny silver horn and immediately there appeared a silver chariot drawn by four silvery white ponies. A coachman and a footman in silver livery attended Dorothy, and before she knew it she was sitting in the beautiful chariot driving over silvery roads.

She felt so happy that she wanted to sing, but just then the chariot stopped at the entrance to the silver castle and Dorothy jumped out and walked up to the beautiful door.

When she was inside a scene of fairy splendor presented itself to her astonished eyes. Beautiful ladies—each one a Princess—were dancing with brave, handsome men,—each one a Prince, and the music was just like sweet bells, all ringing in tune.

Dorothy stood a minute and then the bravest Prince in the room came up to her and said:

“I am Prince Jingle. May I have the pleasure of dancing with the most beautiful guest in my castle?”

Dorothy took his arm with one of her most winning smiles, and the next minute she was dancing around the room with the Prince.

“It’s lovely,” thought Dorothy. “If only Ray could see me now I don’t think he would run off and leave me.”

“I don’t think he would either,” said the beautiful Prince.

“O,” said Dorothy surprised, “I was only thinking—I didn’t speak, you know.”

“I know you didn’t speak in words,” answered the Prince, “but your face spoke.”

“I didn’t know I could speak with my face,” cried Dorothy, smiling to herself, and she thought, “I don’t believe I can, either.”

“O, yes, you can,” said the Prince, with a merry laugh, and Dorothy blushed to think that he knew just what she thought.

“I wonder how he can tell what is in my mind,” thought Dorothy, but she said nothing.

“It’s the easiest thing in the world to tell what is in a little girl’s mind,” said the Prince, “you can see it in her face, I tell you.”

“Will you please tell me how?” asked Dorothy, who was very much surprised to find that the Prince seemed to know exactly what she was thinking about all the time.

They stopped dancing and the Prince said:

“A little girl’s face is a mirror and shows all her thoughts.”

“I don’t quite understand,” replied Dorothy; “do you mean that you can tell what kind of little girls we are, by our faces?”

“That is just what I mean,” answered Prince Jingle. “Come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

Dorothy followed the Prince down the long hall until he stopped at a door that opened into a road.

“Must you go outside to prove it?” asked Dorothy, who was loath to leave the beautiful castle.

“Yes, indeed,” said Prince Jingle; “we don’t have anything like that in our castle.”

At last the Prince stopped in front of a large building. Over the entrance it read in large letters

POUT & CO.

The Prince rang the bell and after waiting quite a long time, a little girl came to the door. Before she opened her mouth to speak Dorothy thought to herself, “O dear, what a cross little girl, she looks just as if she were going to snap at you.”

“How do you do?” said the Prince politely. “Are your sisters at home?”

“Don’t know, find out for yourself.”

Whew! how she snapped it out and then disappeared.

“Didn’t you see it in her face before she spoke?” said the Prince turning to Dorothy.

“Yes, every word of it,” replied Dorothy, and then she thought, “I don’t want to look like that, so I must never be cross and snappy.”

They stepped inside, and the very first thing they saw was a little girl standing near a table with her head down.

She looked up a moment, and Dorothy thought how pretty she would have been, if she didn’t look so sulky.

“Good morning, Miss Sulk,” said the Prince, but she shrugged her shoulders, hung her head lower, and never answered.

“Do come away,” cried Dorothy, and in her mind she said, “I never want to be like that, so I must never, never sulk.”

“Just a minute,” said the Prince, “that looks like Miss Temper in the garden, we must see her.”

Dorothy followed the Prince into the garden, where a girl was crying and stamping her feet.

“Oh, such a face,” thought Dorothy, while the Prince said:

“What is the matter, Miss Temper, can I help you?”

“No! no! no!” roared the ugly little girl, and she stamped harder than ever. Dorothy felt ashamed to think that any little girl could act so badly, and look so ugly.

She wanted to run away from the dreadful sight, and she cried:

“Goodness! Gracious! I hope that I will never give way to temper, for it would be awful to look like that.”

“Have you seen enough?” asked the Prince.

“Yes indeed, quite enough,” replied Dorothy. “I never knew that little girls’ faces showed everything.”

“It is too true,” said Prince Jingle, “when they are cross, and have unkind thoughts, they look ugly, and nobody cares to have them around, but when they are good and kind, obedient and happy, their faces are so beautiful, that every one likes to see them.”

Prince Jingle took Dorothy’s hand, and they hurried back to the castle, and in a few minutes he brought Dorothy a dish of silvery ice-cream and a piece of silver cake.

Just then Ray appeared with a beautiful princess, and they came over to Dorothy and sat down. The Prince got some cream and cake for them, and Ray exclaimed:

“O Dorothy, I’ve been to see such an ugly boy. His name was Temper, and he had two brothers, Sulk and Pout.”

“I saw their sisters,” said Dorothy. “Weren’t they homely?”

“Yes, they were,” said Ray eating the last delicious mouthful of his ice-cream.

“I don’t want to hurry you, my dears,” said Prince Jingle; “but don’t you have to catch a train or something?”

“Of course,” answered Ray, “we have to catch a bell.”

Then the children thanked Prince Jingle and hurried out of the castle, where they found Fairy Tinkle waiting for them, with the little silver bell.

In a few minutes they were swinging through the air, holding on to the tongue of the bell. All at once, so quick that you could not see it done, they found themselves safe in papa’s study sitting in the big leather chair.

The fairy bell was in its old place on the desk, but Fairy Tinkle had disappeared.

CHAPTER VI. THE ROSE-JAR BABY.

THE rose-jar baby had tiny wings, but no one had ever seen them while he slept on the cover of the rose-jar in mamma’s room. One drowsy summer day Ray raised the cover from the rose-jar. Instantly there was wafted about a faint delicious odor and the lovely little baby opened his eyes and smiled at Ray. Then he began to fly around the room like a great butterfly, indeed he was not any larger than one. Ray followed him about the room and out into the garden and thence down a long path to the edge of the woods.

In this place some very beautiful roses were growing and the rose-jar baby flew right into the heart of one of them. He whispered something to the rose and all at once out of its very center peeped a bright little face. Then other faces appeared, until every rose on the bushes showed a lovely, smiling countenance.

“These are my brothers and sisters,” said the rose-jar baby, introducing them to Ray, who was delighted to meet them.

The baby talked with his brothers and sisters about many things. They told him about some butterflies who had been visiting them that morning, and other friends. They spoke about the fine weather, and the rose-jar baby said:

“I will not stay any longer because I am on my way to Glen Fair. I suppose I will see you there later.”

“Yes,” answered all the roses together, “we are coming very soon.”

The baby then started to fly into the woods and Ray followed until he began to feel very tired.

“Will you please rest a moment?” said Ray to the rose-jar baby, “and tell me if it is far to Glen Fair.”

“It is only a short distance from here,” said the baby, “we will soon be there.”

“And what is Glen Fair?” asked the little boy.

“Well, my dear little friend,” said the baby, “Glen Fair is a beautiful place, where all the flowers that live about here, and many creatures as well, may go to enjoy themselves.”

“What do they all do there?” asked Ray with interest.

“That you will see for yourself,” was the answer.

“It seems strange,” continued the child, “that I have never seen it in these woods.”

“It is not strange,” said the rose-jar baby, “that you have never seen it. No mortal has ever seen it, and yet there is a Glen Fair in every bit of woods.”

“Why can’t we see it?” asked Ray.

“Because it belongs to the fairies and no mortal can find it unless guided there by one of us.”

“You are very kind to guide me,” said Ray, and with these words the rose-jar baby continued his flight. Ray followed him until he stopped at some high rocks. The baby flew right over them and Ray was left alone. “I must climb over those rocks,” said Ray to himself, “for that must be Glen Fair.” He began to climb with hands and feet and was soon on the other side safe and sound. He sat on the grass behind a rock and as he looked around him, he thought Glen Fair was indeed a beautiful place. Ray never knew that flowers had such sweet, smiling faces.

There were ever so many buttercups standing near him laughing and talking together, their faces shining just as if they had been washed with soap. A group of daisies near the buttercups looked very neat with white collars around their necks. Some beautiful butterflies were in a constant flutter of excitement and a row of grasshoppers wore tiny spectacles that made them look just like professors. In a few moments Ray saw all the brothers and sisters of the rose-jar baby coming into Glen Fair, and at their head a very large beautiful rose lady. All the flowers bowed to her and called her queen. A handsome butterfly with a velvet cape edged with gold flew to meet her and escorted her to a mossy throne.

When the queen of the roses was seated, some bees who had been buzzing around all the flowers placed some tiny packages at her feet, saying, “A present of our choicest honey for our beautiful queen.”

“Thank you, my good friends,” said the queen, and bowed her stately head.

Just then a group of dear little violets in blue caps and white aprons, who had kept out of sight all the time, stepped forth and spread a white cloth on a long table. The queen of the roses took her place at the head and all the others sat around her. Ray could not see what they had to eat, but he heard the queen say, “This dew is so refreshing,” and she passed her tiny cup to a bluebell to have it filled again. The flowers nodded and chatted, and one of them, Jack-in-the-pulpit, proposed a toast to the queen. Then all the flowers nodded, and somebody called out, “Speech!” everybody took it up and said, “Speech, speech!”

Little Jack arose and said: “Ladies and gentlemen and my fat friend the bullfrog yonder, this is a very joyous occasion, so let us all be jolly,—if there is a croaker here” (he glanced at the bullfrog) “we hope he may change his tune. We shall always do our best to make things bright for mortals; all we ask of them is a little consideration and room to grow. When we have that—well, my friends, you have only to look at our beautiful lady to see the result. Ladies and gentlemen, I drink to the Queen of the Roses.”

They all raised their tiny cups and drank with nods of approval at little Jack. When the spread was over, there was dancing and the music was furnished by a band of bullfrogs. They played on reeds and wind instruments, uniformed in green and yellow. Ray thought it was very pretty to see the rose-jar baby dancing with a tiny humming-bird. After they had danced a while some of them began to play games. Ray was very much surprised to see some squirrels playing at baseball. They used a round nut for a ball and a straight twig for a bat. What fun they seemed to have! The pitcher did not seem in any hurry to throw the ball. He rolled it round and round and then over his head and once or twice twisted his whole body. Indeed, he had all the airs and manners of a professional. At last Ray grew impatient and called out from behind the rock, “Play ball!” At the same instant the pitcher lightly tossed the ball and the gray squirrel at the bat knocked it away over some bushes. Ray clapped his hands with delight and watched the fun for a long time. His attention was then attracted to some bullfrogs. Of course they were playing leap-frog. That is their national game, and Ray laughed aloud when a great fat frog would jump over a small one. Some spiders were playing tennis over one of their own webs, and it was very interesting to watch them. Suddenly a jolly circle of little brown field-mice scampered to the very rock that was hiding Ray. Their eyes twinkled when they saw him and they began to play ring-ring-a-ring-around, with Ray in the middle. He never enjoyed anything so much and clapped his hands while they skipped around. All at once they began to play tag, scampering everywhere, trying to catch each other. Ray grew very much excited watching them, and at last jumped to his feet, saying, “Catch me, catch me.” Then he started to run, with all the little brown field-mice after him. They ran over twigs and stones and in and out of winding paths. They passed tall pine trees and dodged in among green bushes. Ray never knew before that he could run so fast, but at last he was out of breath and had to stop.

The mice ran right past him and were soon out of sight. Ray looked around and found that he was at the edge of the woods quite near home. He stretched on the warm grass to rest a minute, and while he was looking up at the blue sky the rose-jar baby flew over his head and straight down the garden path to the house. After resting awhile Ray arose and followed, singing softly to himself:—

CHAPTER VII. THE DOLL’S PARADISE.

IT was a very wet day and Dorothy could not go out, so she went to her own little playroom to have a good time with her dolls. Susan Ida was a large wax doll with black eyes and golden hair, that is to say, she had golden hair when Santa Claus brought her, but owing to an accident this beautiful hair, which should have been hanging down her back, was suspended from a hook in the closet.

I am sorry to say Susan Ida was bald.

Kathleen had once been a handsome china doll with black wavy hair parted right in the middle, but, alas! Kathleen was a cripple for the rest of her doll existence, having lost both legs.

Dinah was a lovely colored baby, but somehow she had lost an arm and had one eye knocked out, while Jessop, who was a clown-doll with bells in his cap, had a broken nose and wore very ragged clothes. Dorothy set them all in a row and looked at them with a frown on her sunny face.

“I’m really ashamed of you all,” said Dorothy, “you look so badly with your old torn clothes, and I am sure if you did not play so roughly you wouldn’t break your noses and things. One would think that you were all foot-ball players,” she continued. The dolls looked very sorry, all except Jessop. He had a smile on his face. “You needn’t smile, Jessop,” said Dorothy. “As for you, Susan Ida, I’m just going to whip you, because you are such a big doll you ought to know better,” and she shook her finger at her largest dolly. She was just going to take Susan Ida across her knee when she heard the queerest little “squeak, squeak,” right behind her. Dorothy turned to see who made the sound, and just as she did the door of her play-room opened and there stood the dearest little doll with coal black curls and coral-pink cheeks.

All at once the strange doll began to grow larger and larger until she towered over everything in the room and was the greatest doll Dorothy had ever seen. Then she did a strange thing. She walked slowly to the place where Dorothy was sitting. She raised her hands and drew them lightly over Dorothy’s face, arms and legs, in fact over her entire body, and a most wonderful thing happened. Dorothy felt herself becoming hard and rigid in every joint. The stranger had turned little Dorothy into a wax doll. At first she thought it rather nice to be a doll, but when she tried to stand and found that she could not she did not like it very well. She had also grown very much smaller, and was not any larger than one of her own dolls, but she knew everything that was going on around her. The strange doll, who had done such a wonderful thing to Dorothy, began to skip around the room and laugh and sing. She didn’t seem to be a doll any longer, but was just like a little girl.

Dorothy watched her hopping about. “O dear me,” sighed Dorothy almost in terror, “I do hope she won’t jump on me,” but no sooner did the thought come to her, when plump came the stranger right on Dorothy’s legs.

“Well, I declare,” said the strange doll-girl lightly, “you are always getting in my way,” and she continued to skip about the room.

“O my poor feet!” said Dorothy to herself, and all at once she saw that both her legs below the knees had been broken off. “I wish I could scream,” sighed Dorothy, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not open her mouth.

All of a sudden the strange doll-girl stopped jumping and said to Dorothy, “You bad doll, you’ve lost a leg.”

Dorothy was just going to say “Two of them,” when she was caught up by the stranger, and got a terrible shaking. Then she fell in a heap on the floor, feeling utterly wretched. After a while the stranger said, “Now you must sit up and let me braid your hair.”

Dorothy’s hair hung in soft curls and she did not like the idea of having it braided. But of course she could not say anything and had to submit to another rough handling. This proved to be the hardest trial yet, because no sooner did the combing begin than the pulling was almost unbearable. Suddenly the doll-girl got very angry. “I never saw such snarls,” she cried, and caught poor Dorothy by the hair of the head and dragged her around the room. In a few moments her hair came off and she was as bald as Susan Ida.

“Alas!” said poor little Dorothy, “I shall be lame and bald and nobody cares.” She tried to cry, but even that consolation was denied her.

The stranger who had done these dreadful things was looking out of the window, calmly watching the rain, when suddenly she turned and said, “Would you like to look out of the window, I think it would do you good?” She took Dorothy by one poor limp arm and carried her across the room to the window. After she dangled Dorothy a while by one arm she raised the window and put her outside in the rain, saying, “Out there you can get cooled off.” She skipped around the room again clapping her hands and having a good time. Poor little Dorothy outside the window, as frightened as could be, but unable to stir an inch!

The rain spattered in her face, and on her bald head and in a very short time her dress became soaked. Suddenly a great gust of wind came around the corner, and before Dorothy realized it she was blown from her place and down she fell in the garden prone on her face. Then she fainted, and did not know anything for a long time.

When she recovered she was surprised to find that she was not in the garden, but in a strange beautiful place. It looked like the hall of a magnificent castle with beautiful pictures and elegant surroundings. On a throne, at one end of the hall, sat the most beautiful doll in the world. She was tall and stately, and in her right hand carried a golden wand.

But the strangest sight of all was a single file of dolls, the most wretched, forlorn-looking things that Dorothy had ever seen.

Standing one behind the other the line extended from the throne of the beautiful doll away down the hall as far as the eye could see. Dorothy was the fifth in the line, and she knew that she looked as badly as anybody, but as she was watching the queen of the dolls she forgot about her looks. Just then the first doll in the line limped up to the throne and stood before the queen.

“My poor subject,” said the queen, in a sweet, gentle voice, “how came thee, who left this house bright and beautiful, in this sad plight? Tell thy sad story.”

“Alas!” said the poor doll, who had only one eye, one arm and half a kid leg, “a little girl, who was a most careless mistress, let me fall so often that I was completely undone and my beauty destroyed.”

The doll bowed her head and the queen touched it with her golden wand, saying:—“Arise, my child, and be as perfect as thou should’st,” and immediately the doll, who had looked so badly before, arose whole and beautiful. She bowed low to the queen and left the throne.

Dorothy saw many beautiful dolls, waiting on the other side of the hall. They ran up and kissed the doll who had been made beautiful and she walked away with them. But the second doll in the line was already before the queen telling her story, and Dorothy listened to every word.

She was a china doll and looked something like Kathleen; she said with sobs:

“At first my mistress was very kind to me. She rocked me to sleep every night, dressed me in silken frocks in the afternoon and took me out to ride in a beautiful doll’s-carriage. After awhile she did not care for me at all, and one day when I fell out of the carriage, her little dog Fido caught me in his teeth and shook me so badly that I never quite recovered from the shock, in fact I was all broken up.”

Truly it was a sad story and Dorothy felt sorry for the poor china doll. The golden wand touched her and she became very lovely, and went to the other side with her happy companions.

Now the third doll in the line was the most disreputable-looking one that Dorothy had ever seen. She was a wax doll with just one spear of hair on the top of her head. Her nose was broken and her front teeth knocked out. She did not have on even a doll’s chemise, and worse than all there was a great hole in her back. Dorothy had been looking at a group of lovely dolls at the other side of the hall who were eating ice-cream when her attention was called by a very familiar name.

“I was a beautiful French doll,” said the third. “I had been well educated and people said that I knew how to talk, I must admit that I was clever and knew when to shut my eyes. My name was Fanchette” (Dorothy gave a start at this name). “Well,” continued Fanchette, “to make a long story short, bad treatment soon reduced me to my present condition, this dreadful hole in my back was made by my cruel little mistress, she said she wanted to see what was inside of me. After that I was cast aside until one day a housemaid threw me into an ash-barrel, which occasioned my death.”

This story was strangely interesting to Dorothy and she watched eagerly to see what the doll would be like when the wand touched her. Imagine Dorothy’s surprise to see her own Fanchette, that Uncle John had brought her from Paris a long time ago. Dorothy could hardly believe her eyes, but there stood Fanchette as dainty and beautiful as ever. She was just going to cry out “Fanchette,” but No. 4 was talking and as she came next she was very attentive. No. 4 was a boy doll. He wore a worsted jacket and said he was German. He did not have any broken limbs, but seemed very much shrunken. He had fallen into a tub of water, he said, and had been drowned. When the queen touched him he went off smiling and happy with some other boy dolls.

Now it was Dorothy’s turn, how she got up to the throne she did not know. She thought of her poor bald head and her sad appearance.

“Excuse me,” said Dorothy, “I haven’t a leg to stand on.”

The queen smiled sadly at her and then arose from the throne tall and beautiful, saying:—

“I cannot hear any more sad stories to-day, but you may all file up and I will make you beautiful.” She touched Dorothy lightly on the head with the golden wand and the little girl became her own dear self again. She felt so happy she wanted to jump for very joy. She ran off with some beautiful dolls, her brown curls brushing her smiling face and her eyes sparkling with merriment. Down the beautiful hall she tripped and just as she reached the door that led into a golden room, she looked back. The queen was just in the act of touching the last one of the poor broken dolls. Dorothy entered the golden room and found herself amid a scene of fairy splendor with the beautifullest dolls in the world.

There were big dolls and little dolls, dolls in silks and satins, and sweet tidy dolls in cap and apron who were maids to wait upon them. Some dainty little dolls were dancing with handsome boy-dolls, and others were sitting about in groups laughing and talking. Dorothy passed through the golden room and out into a garden. Here there were more dolls, some of them swinging in snug little doll-hammocks, others were gathering flowers, and on a fine stretch of lawn was the dearest little party playing croquet. Dorothy walked through the garden and came to a pond. There were pretty boats on it and a little doll man, dressed like a sailor, stepped up and touched his cap, at the same time asking Dorothy if she would take a sail.

“With pleasure, thank you,” answered Dorothy and she stepped into a boat and began to sail around the pond. She was so happy and felt so comfortable that she just fell back on the soft cushions of the boat and closed her eyes. It was all so soft and dreamy that she drifted into a sound sleep. When she awoke where do you think she found herself?

CHAPTER VIII. THE SUGAR-BOWL FAIRY.

RAY was very fond of sugar. Did you ever see the boy or girl who was not? One day he wanted a lump and asked mamma if he might have it. She gave him permission to take just one lump, so he raised the cover of the sugar bowl and peeped in.

“How nice it looks in there,” said Ray, “I wish I could get inside.”

No sooner did he say the words than he began to grow smaller and smaller. He dwindled down until he was only as large as a lump of sugar and he gave a little jump right into the sugar bowl. At first it seemed quite dark in there, but after a while he grew accustomed to it and could see very well. The first thing that surprised him was the size of the place. He had always thought that the inside of a sugar-bowl was very small in area, but on the contrary it “stretched away into stately halls,” with doors and windows and numerous little people like himself walking about. Ray sat on a little white sofa near a window and a dear little man came and sat beside him.

“I am the Sugar-bowl Fairy,” said the little man, “would you like to take a walk through the house?”

“Thank you,” replied Ray, “what do you do all day in the sugar-bowl?”

“We play and have a good time,” answered the little man, “except when the great giant comes, then we are all afraid and run to hide.”

“Who is this great giant?” asked Ray.

“I will tell you a true story about my brother and sister and then you will know all about the great giant,” said the Sugar-bowl Fairy.

“My sister’s name was Sweetness and my brother’s was Sugar-Boy. One day they were put in a large barrel and taken away to the giant’s house. They remained in the barrel for several days, when one morning they were taken out and put in a beautiful silver sugar bowl on the giant’s table. In a few minutes the giant sat down to breakfast with his little daughter Mabel.

“They talked and laughed together, and while the little girl drank her bowl of milk the giant poured a cup of tea for himself.

“‘Now,’ whispered Sweetness to my brother, ‘if he puts us in that cup of tea we must surely be drowned.’ She trembled and snuggled up closer to my brother.

“The giant took the silver sugar-tongs and looked into the sugar bowl. It was a moment of terrible suspense. All at once he caught Sweetness and dropped her into his cup of tea. The last my brother saw of her she was dissolved in tears. And that was the end of my sister Sweetness.

“‘Won’t it be dreadful if he catches me?’ said my brother, when lo! the tongs descended into the sugar bowl again and this time caught Sugar-Boy, but he squirmed himself out and rolled down to the very bottom of the bowl and the giant took another.

“When breakfast was over and the giant and his little daughter had risen from the table, she whispered something to her father and all at once looked into the sugar bowl. Then she put her dear little hand inside and caught my brother in her rosy finger tips.

“‘There,’ said Mabel, ‘you’re the nicest looking lump of sweetness in the sugar bowl and I am going to give you to Queen Bess.’

“Sugar-Boy wondered who Queen Bess could be, but he did not have much time to think because Mabel hurried out of the room and ran after her father. They went into a stable and Sugar-Boy could hear the tramp of horses. At last they stood before a beautiful black horse. Mabel took the lump of sugar (which wasn’t a lump of sugar at all, you know, but my dear little brother) and held it up to the horse, saying, ‘See, Queen Bess, what I have brought you.’ My poor Sugar-Boy trembled with fear and thought his end was at hand, but just as the horse opened his mouth to swallow him the girl let Sugar-Boy fall and down he went into a tiny hole where it was very dark. He could hear Mabel say, ‘That is too bad, Queen Bess, but I shall get another nice lump for you.’

“‘I hope I am safe here,’ said Sugar-Boy, but no sooner did he say the words than he saw two little bright eyes peering at him. Again his heart went pit-a-pat, and in another moment a fat brown mouse came over to the dark hole. ‘This is a very lucky find,’ said the brown mouse, ‘I must take this lump of sugar to my mother.’ Sugar-Boy was frightened when the brown mouse caught him up carefully and started across the barn floor; and he was just beginning to think that this would be the last of him, when all at once a gray cat sprang out and the mouse dropped Sugar-Boy and ran for his life. There was Sugar-Boy in the middle of the floor where anybody could step on him and crush him to death.

Mabel took the lump of sugar, and held it up to the horse, saying, “See, Queen Bess, what I have brought you.”—Page 94. Little Miss Dorothy.

“He was feeling very much worried about it when suddenly a boy came into the barn. The boy walked around whistling a lively tune, and all at once picked up Sugar-Boy and put him in his pocket.

“My brother thought he was safe in the boy’s pocket, at least for a while. He found himself in the company of a jackknife, ten marbles, two rusty nails, a ball of twine, a bent pin, a piece of tar, an old butternut and a few other articles that I cannot remember.

“‘I wonder how many more things are coming into this pocket,’ said the marbles, ‘we would like a little space to roll around.’ Just then the boy put his hand into the pocket for the jackknife and those selfish marbles pushed Sugar-Boy out with the knife and he fell in the yard and the boy never knew it. My brother found himself beside a small stone, and he soon discovered that a certain Mr. Worm lived under the stone.

“He was very lazy, sleeping most of the time, but one day the stone happened to get overturned by a boy, and then Mr. Worm began to squirm around at a great rate. Sugar-Boy watched him until a dozen little sparrows began to chirp around him, and in a remarkably short time they had made a meal of Mr. Worm. But they had also seen Sugar-Boy, and as soon as they had eaten Mr. Worm they tried a peck at Sugar-Boy.

“They made a great fuss and scolded each other because they could not carry Sugar-Boy, he was so heavy. In the height of the excitement a great black crow flew into the midst of the sparrows, and, taking Sugar-Boy in her beak, flew far away. Deep into the woods went the crow and perched on a high tree, and in another minute Sugar-Boy was in a nice warm nest with some little baby crows. They opened their mouths very wide and the mother crow began to feed them. She tried a peck at Sugar-Boy’s coat and he felt very badly about it. After a while she caught him up and one of the babies tried to take a little peck. It pleased the mother crow so much to see such a smart baby that she wanted to kiss the little mouth. She loosened her hold on Sugar-Boy and before she could catch him he had fallen from the nest in the high tree-top down to the path in the woods. He was there quite a long time when two girls came along gathering wood for their mother’s fire.

“‘O, see,’ cried one of the girls, ‘I have found a lump of sugar! I’m going to take it home to Gretchen!’

“She put Sugar-Boy in the basket with her twigs and sticks and he was carried safely through the woods to their mother’s cottage. A plump little maid with two long braids of golden hair came running to meet the girls who had been gathering sticks.

“‘See what I found for thee, Gretchen,’ said one of the girls, holding up Sugar-Boy. Gretchen took him in her little fat hands and cried:

“‘Ach! it is mine sugar.’

“‘The fairies put it in the woods for thee, Gretchen,’ said her sister; ‘take it and run away.’

“Gretchen ran away with Sugar-Boy, and sat in her little garden.

“‘If it is a fairy lump I will plant it,’ said the child, ‘and then a fairy tree will grow with lumps of sugar.’

“She dug a tiny hole with her hands and placed my brother in it, covering him over with the soft earth. Then she watered her new bed and went away to tell about her fairy sugar tree.

“Now it so happened that not far from the spot where Sugar-Boy was planted lived a colony of ants. One long-legged fellow chanced to see Gretchen dispose of a nice lump of sugar and he ran to the hill where the queen of the ants lived and told her about it.

“She sent an army of faithful ants at once, and Sugar-Boy was removed little by little to the queen’s palace.

“Then the queen decided to give a grand party, inviting all her sisters, cousins and ants and in a short time the long-legged fellow was despatched with written invitations that read as follows:

“‘The queen invites you to be present at a grand dinner party, given in the courtyard of the imperial palace (Ant Hill—southwest) on Monday at Ten A. M.’

“There was great excitement among the ants when they learned about the party and they vied with each other in their efforts to thank the queen. When the morning of the party arrived you might have seen swarms of ants hurrying to the palace on Ant Hill.

“Of course they all had a splendid time at the party and they actually devoured Sugar-Boy.”

The Sugar-bowl Fairy, who had been telling this story, stopped suddenly and Ray asked, “Is that all?”

“No, that is not the end,” replied the fairy, “but I hear your mamma calling you.” He raised the cover of the sugar bowl and Ray climbed out.

As soon as he was outside he began to grow to his normal size and he ran to mamma and told her all about his adventure inside the sugar-bowl.

CHAPTER IX. A STRANGE TRIP TO TOY-LAND.

ONE afternoon Mrs. Fussy, who lived next door, came to call on Dorothy’s mamma. When they had exchanged greetings Mrs. Fussy exclaimed:

“Dear, dear, what shall I do! Cook has left me without a moment’s notice—the third this month. It is really discouraging.”

Dorothy was drinking in every word that fell from the visitor’s lips, and mamma said, “Run away, dear, and play with your dolls.”

Dorothy ran to her play-room and took down all her dolls and toys to have a real good time. She decided to play house, so she said, “Now I’m going to be Mrs. Fussy.”

She gazed earnestly at her dolls and sighed, “Dear, dear, what shall I do! Cook has left without a moment’s notice—the third this month. It is really ’raging.”

Suddenly all the dolls jumped up and began to roll up their sleeves.

“We’ll help,” they cried, and Dorothy was so surprised that she could not speak for a minute.

“I’m glad you are so willing,” said the little girl at last. “Suppose you go into the kitchen and cook the dinner, Dinah.”

“Yeth, ma’am,” replied Dinah with a sweeping bow and hurriedly left the room.

“Susan Ida may go into the laundry and iron, while you, Kathleen, had better dust the hall.”

“What shall I do?” asked Jessop with his usual grin, and his little mistress told him to make himself generally useful.

When they had gone to do their work Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief and said, “I think I’ll rest a minute.” She took out her Mother Goose and was so very much interested in Little Bo-Peep that she did not notice anything going on around her. But when she raised her eyes from her book she was surprised to find herself quite alone.

“Why, where are all my toys?” exclaimed Dorothy. “I sent the dolls to work, but those naughty toys had no business to leave this room.”

Then she decided to go into the kitchen and see how Dinah was getting along with the dinner. She tripped down-stairs and the minute she opened the kitchen door there was a strong odor of something burning. But worse than that, there stood her tin soldier with his arm around Dinah’s waist. Dorothy ran for the tin soldier, but he dodged her and jumped out of the window. Dinah threw back her head and began to swing a soup ladle, while her indignant little mistress exclaimed, “I’m ashamed of you, Dinah, and you can go to your room at once.” Dinah sulked out of the kitchen and Dorothy took up the burned potatoes.

“Now I’m going to give Dinah a good whipping,” said Dorothy; but the minute she opened the kitchen door she heard loud voices on the stairs. Hurrying to the spot, there stood Kathleen (her quiet, gentle Kathleen) brandishing a feather duster in the most threatening manner at Jessop.

Dorothy was astonished. “Why, Kathleen,” she cried, “what is the matter?”

“Well, he isn’t going to call me doll-faced,” said Kathleen, looking very angry at Jessop.

“She said I was a clown,” shouted Jessop, “and I won’t stand it.”

“Go to your room both of you; not another word,” exclaimed Dorothy shaking her finger at Kathleen, who walked off with her head in the air.

“Well, I declare,” sighed the mistress, “I wonder what will happen next!” She started for the laundry to see how Susan Ida was getting along, and found her crying bitterly and no work done.

“Why, Susan Ida, what have you been doing all this time?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” was the answer. “It’s all his fault. Boo-hoo-o!” and she pointed to Dorothy’s toy rooster, who was calmly standing on the table watching them.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” asked Dorothy, turning to the rooster; “the idea of coming into the laundry!”

“He came to crow over me, ma’am,” exclaimed Susan Ida between her sobs.

“I don’t care,” cried Dick; “she said she’d take my head off.”

“Get out both of you,” and Dorothy made a rush for the bad toys, but they nearly fell over each other in their efforts to get out of the kitchen.

“I’ll go up-stairs and give them a good whipping and put them to bed,” said Dorothy; but when she reached the stairs she stopped in amazement. There was Toto her toy monkey sliding down the banister, while her toy puppy barked with all his might. A toy broom was whacking the stairs at a grinning Jack-in-the-box, who was trying to stand on his head.

“Toto,” cried Dorothy, and she was just going to catch him, when her toy cat flew past chasing the toy mouse.

“Goodness! he must not catch my mouse,” cried Dorothy, and she caught up the toy broom and hurried after the toy cat. The toy puppy and the monkey followed, and the Jack came out of his box and joined in the chase. Across the hall they flew, and as the door happened to be opened, down the steps and into the yard. It was the strangest race you ever saw, and as they ran through the street people came to the windows and shouted at them. A great many soldiers left their barracks in the toy shops and hurried after the procession.

On and on they ran through the street, into another, across vacant lots, over stones and hedges, through the green fields, up the hills, down the lanes, and never stopped until they came to Toy-land.

The minute they got there the mouse was still, the cat curled himself like a ball and went to sleep, the puppy stretched out and began to snore, the Jack-in-the-box remained perfectly quiet, and the monkey sat upright and scratched his head.

Dorothy sank into a toy chair exclaiming, “Such an exciting race I never had in my life.”

“You must be tired,” said a voice at her elbow, and Dorothy turned and there stood Little Bo-Peep.

“How do you do?” said Dorothy. “Have you found the sheep that were lost?”

“Not yet,” replied Bo-Peep, “but I am looking for them.”

“I will help you,” cried Dorothy, and she jumped up and taking Little Bo-Peep’s hand walked all over Toy-land looking for the lost sheep. Suddenly they met the old woman who lived in a shoe with her whole brood of children hurrying along.

“Whither away so fast, good woman?” asked Dorothy.

“To the grand parade, my dear,” was the answer, while Little Bo-peep exclaimed, “Sure enough, it is the first of April, the birthday of our dear Mother Goose, you know.”

“Let us go too,” cried Dorothy, and they hurried after the old woman.

They passed Little Boy Blue fast asleep under a hay-mow, but Bo-Peep gave him a little shake and he awoke and followed them.

They reached a bridge just in time to see Mother Goose and all her followers passing along. All Toy-land clapped and shouted; and what with dogs barking and cocks crowing there was a merry time.

Dorothy was delighted, and the toy soldiers who marched in the procession were straighter than any real soldiers that she had ever seen.

“What beautiful times you have in Toy-land!” exclaimed Dorothy.

But Bo-Peep did not answer, she was looking at the end of the procession.

“There they are now!” she cried, and Dorothy saw the lost sheep following the crowd. “I must hide,” said Bo-Peep and she tried to stand behind Dorothy, but the sheep spied their little friend and they all ran to her and began to frisk about. It made Dorothy laugh to see them, but when a great black sheep tried to stand on his head Dorothy was afraid and ran away.

She tripped over the fields until she came to the village green where she found Mother Goose and the whole procession resting.

As she approached, Dorothy saw that they were all watching something in the center of the green. She turned to Simple Simon who was standing near, and asked him what they were all waiting for.

“To see the cow jump over the moon, of course,” replied Simple Simon, grinning at Dorothy.

Just then the cow rose in the air and gave a great jump to the sky and right over the moon. Everybody laughed, even Dorothy’s little toy dog; and Simple Simon rolled on the grass, he thought it was so funny.

Dorothy ran off laughing and turned into a street that was called Doll Avenue. Beautiful doll houses lined both sides of the street, and Dorothy met several lovely dolls who were out taking an airing. All at once Dorothy came to the end of Doll Avenue and found a pond where toy swans were sailing around. The dearest little doll that Dorothy had ever seen was all alone, throwing pebbles into the pond.

“What is your name, dear?” asked Dorothy, walking up to the doll.

“My name is Rosy,” said the doll; and Dorothy exclaimed, “O, you are just lovely, I’d like to take you home with me!”

“I can go with you,” replied Rosy, “if you don’t step on dirt.”

“Good,” cried Dorothy, clapping her hands. “I know what you mean. You must step on stones, if you walk on the earth you’re poisoned. I’ve played that game very often.”

Dorothy took Rosy in her arms and started to walk home.

“You shall be my best doll,” whispered Dorothy, “and I’ll make you a lovely silk dress.” She crossed and recrossed stones and rocks, being careful not to touch the ground. She was getting along nicely when all at once she tripped and her feet touched the earth. In a second Rosy was on the ground running away from her as fast as she could.

“Come back, come back,” shouted Dorothy; but Rosy only ran the faster.

Dorothy started after the lovely little doll, but all at once she was stopped by a great toy policeman.

“What is the matter?” asked he of the blue coat and brass buttons.

“I want to catch that doll. O, please let me get her,” said Dorothy.

“Does she belong to you?” shouted the policeman in a gruff voice.

“N-no, not exactly; that is,”—said Dorothy, beginning to explain.

But the policeman looked very angry and said, “I arrest you for trying to take something that does not belong to you.”

“But please, Mr. Policeman, I didn’t know I was doing wrong,” sobbed Dorothy.

“Neither did I,” roared the policeman.

“But I never was arrested before,” cried Dorothy.

“That isn’t my fault,” said the policeman.

Just then Little Bo-Peep came along with all her sheep.

“Why, what is the trouble?” asked Little Bo-Peep, looking from Dorothy to the toy policeman.

“He’s going to arrest me,” answered Dorothy.

“You mustn’t do that,” cried Bo-Peep; “she’s a friend of mine.”

“But she was breaking the law,” said the policeman.

“That’s too bad,” whispered Bo-Peep, putting her arm around Dorothy’s neck.

“You know, dear, that you can break everything in Toy-land except the law.”

“However,” she continued, “as you are a visitor you cannot be arrested.”

“I think I had better go home now,” said Dorothy, “I wonder where all my animals are?”

“I’ll blow my whistle,” said the policeman, “and they will come.”

No sooner did the whistle sound than all her animals appeared.

The policeman locked them up in Noah’s Ark, but Dorothy stepped into a train of toy cars and was soon safe home.

CHAPTER X. THE LAUGHING ROCK.

ONE summer Ray went to the country to visit Uncle Josiah. At first he was so much interested in everything around the farm that he did not find time to take any walks in the pleasant fields and woods.

He liked to watch the busy hens and the downy little chicks. Every day he talked to a dear little bossy calf that had great soft velvety eyes. But after a while, when he had become well acquainted with the plump little rabbits and Bonnie Bess, a good old horse, he started in to see some of the pretty places around him. Not far from the house was a long shady lane path called “Lovers’ Lane,” and one summer afternoon Ray found himself sitting on the grass in Lovers’ Lane with his back against a large rock. It was a very warm day and Ray felt so sleepy that his eyes began to close in spite of himself.

Suddenly something tickled his nose and he brushed it away. He closed his eyes again to have a little nap when something tickled his ear and he quickly brushed that off. Once more he settled for a sleep when a very pronounced tickling at his neck made him jump to his feet.

“I wonder what is tickling me so?” exclaimed Ray, looking around.

All at once he caught sight of a little man so tiny that you could have taken him up and put him in your pocket. He stood right on the top of the rock and as his clothes were just the color of it, you could not see him unless you looked sharp. But there stood the tiny little fellow with his hands in his pockets, his legs far apart and a broad smile on his face as he winked at Ray.

“Did you tickle me when I was trying to go to sleep?” asked Ray.

The grin on the face of the little man broadened and he began to shake all over, he laughed so heartily.

“Excuse me,” he said; “I was only putting in my winter coal.”

Ray was greatly surprised, he didn’t know just what to think of the little fellow. He thought he had better introduce himself, so he said,

“My name is Ray, and I live in that white house with Uncle Josiah and Aunt Prudence.”

“My name is Pebble and I live in this brown rock with Mrs. Pebble and all the little Pebbles,” said the tiny man, laughing harder than ever.

In fact he laughed so heartily that he began to slap his knee with his little fat hands. Ray laughed too and slapped his knee and shook all over like the little man. Every now and then in the midst of the laughter Mr. Pebble would catch something that flashed like sunbeams in his hand, but he did it so quickly that Ray could not make out just what he was doing.

“It’s really very funny,” said Ray; “but I’m not laughing at you, Mr. Pebble.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” returned little Mr. Pebble.

“What are you laughing at, may I ask?” said Ray politely.

“This is my busy season,” replied the little fellow; “that is why I laugh.”

Ray did not quite understand, but thinking he would find out later on in the conversation asked, “Did you say you lived inside this rock?”

“Yes, my boy, that is where we live.”

“Isn’t that strange?” murmured Ray to himself.

“Not at all,” replied Mr. Pebble, “my family—that is the entire Pebble branch—always live in rocks.”

“I’d like to see the inside of your house,” exclaimed Ray.

“Well, come home to dinner with me,” said Mr. Pebble, and he gave three little taps on the rock.

All at once it opened and before Ray knew it he was inside. A tiny fat woman with a crowd of children tugging at her skirts, came up and greeted Mr. Pebble. The little Pebbles skipped and hopped about, cutting up all sorts of capers. It was all so funny that Ray was laughing all the time and Mr. and Mrs. Pebble and all the little Pebbles laughed too.

“How about the coal, my dear,” said Mrs. Pebble suddenly; “did you get any this morning?”

“Oh, yes,” replied her husband, “I have been very busy.”

“Well, I hope you will get a good supply, because I think it is going to be a hard winter. Don’t you think so, Ray?”

“I don’t see what you want coal for,” said Ray; “inside a big rock I should think it would be nice and warm.”

“So it would be, my dear,” returned Mrs. Pebble; “but there are two great cracks in this house and they let in all the cold air. Why, last winter Tommy Pebble had the measles.”

“Which is Tommy?” asked Ray, looking around at the brood of Pebbles.

“I’m Tommy,” shouted a pompous little fellow standing on his tiptoes and throwing out his chest.

“Well, you needn’t feel so stiff about it,” said Ray, “you’re not the only Pebble;” whereupon Mr. and Mrs. Pebble and all the children except Tommy roared with laughter.

Suddenly Ray noticed a coal-bin in one corner of the house, and taking up a piece he cried, “What queer-looking coal, it doesn’t look like the kind we use.”

“It’s not the same kind, you know,” said Mr. Pebble; “my coal is made from laughter.”

“How funny!” exclaimed Ray. “I don’t quite understand.”

“Well,” said Mr. Pebble, “if there is any laughter going around I catch it and turn it into coal. I’ll throw a piece into my fire and you will see what I mean.”

The coal burned with a blue flame, and all at once Ray could see in the midst of the flame his Uncle Josiah holding a horse and talking to a strange farmer as plainly as if they were standing before him.

Suddenly the farmer led the horse away and when they were out of sight Ray could hear his uncle laugh—

Ray laughed aloud, although he really didn’t know why, and all the Pebbles shook with laughter.

“Did my uncle sell that horse to the farmer?” asked Ray.

“Yes,” said Mr. Pebble, “the bargain was made sitting on this rock and I got in a good load of coal that day.”

“But I don’t see anything to laugh about in that,” exclaimed Ray.

“The farmer that got the horse didn’t either,” cried Mr. Pebble.

Ray was puzzled, but he took up another piece of coal and threw it on the fire. It burned with a beautiful rose-colored flame, and Ray could see two lovers sitting on the rock looking into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly he heard a giggle and then:

“He, he, ha, ha, ha! You are, you know you are!”

Ray was laughing again. “What does it all mean?” he asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Mr. Pebble, who was almost doubled in two laughing.

“They came here last summer a great deal,” continued the little fellow. “They’re married now and live in the village. I don’t see them so often, but there are others, and I must say they belong to one of the best sources of my coal supply in the world.”

“Try this one,” said Ray, and he threw a piece of coal on the fire that burned with the most beautiful flame of all. A group of merry children were playing together in the bright flame, and their laughter was like sweet music.

“What good times they are having!” said Ray, and Mr. Pebble cried:

“Yes, indeed, I love little children, and would rather hear their laughter than any other sound in the world.”

“Is that why you tickled me?” questioned Ray, and the little man replied:

“Well, of course, it’s my business to make people laugh. I was looking out for some more coal, you know.”

“You certainly have a very large family to keep warm,” remarked Ray.

“Yes,” answered Mr. Pebble, “and it grows larger every year, and more than all, Tommy is a great care.”

“Is he mischievous?” said Ray.

“O, very,” replied the happy father. “I wonder what he is doing now. Tommy, Tommy,” called his father, “where are you?” but Tommy did not answer, and his numerous brothers and sisters could not find him.

“I think I had better go now,” said Ray, “I’ll stay to dinner some other day.”

“We’re going to have pudding,” cried one of the tiniest Pebbles, but Ray was afraid Aunt Prudence would think he was lost, so he said good-by to the funny Pebbles and quietly left the rock. When he was outside on his way to the farmhouse he happened to put his hand in his pocket and there sat Tommy Pebble as comfortable as possible.

“Why, Tommy, how did you get into my pocket?” cried Ray.

“Jumped in, when you weren’t looking,” replied the little fellow.

“But what will your father say?” exclaimed Ray; “they were all looking for you in the rock.”

“O, I’ve taken little trips before,” said Tommy, “and when I come back my papa always says to me, ‘Tommy, a rolling stone gathers no moss.’”

Ray laughed because he seemed such a mischievous little fellow, and as for Tommy he rolled all around the pocket in his mirth.

“I don’t think you ought to leave your home,” said Ray, but Tommy replied quickly:

“I want to see the world, and I never had a better chance than to travel in a boy’s pocket.”

“Well, if you are very quiet and don’t get into mischief, I’ll let you stay for a while.”

Ray returned to the house with Tommy Pebble safe in his pocket, and just then Aunt Prudence called him to dinner.

When Ray was sitting at the table he was going to tell about his adventure with the Laughing Rock when he felt something in his mouth. He was eating some jam, and imagine his surprise to find that Tommy Pebble had got into the jam and was walking around the roof of his mouth. Ray removed Tommy as quickly and quietly as possible to his pocket and ate the rest of his dinner in silence.

“Now, look here, Tommy,” said Ray after dinner, “don’t you ever get into the jam again, it’s not nice at all.” Tommy began to laugh and shake his fat little body. But he promised to be more careful in the future. After a while Ray thought he would go to the barn, but the minute he started something tickled the sole of his right foot. He sat right down on the grass and took off his shoe, and there was Tommy Pebble in his stocking grinning at him.

“O, you rogue!” cried Ray. “How did you ever get down there?” but Tommy only laughed while Ray put him in his pocket again. Tommy was quiet for a long time, and it was not till bedtime that Ray remembered his existence. When Ray was in bed and his Auntie had said good night, he felt something between the sheets that wiggled around his toes.

“Is that you, Tommy Pebble?” asked Ray, but there was only the sound of laughing and Ray knew that Tommy was up to his old tricks again.

Ray squirmed himself down to the foot of the bed and caught Tommy Pebble.

“I’ve a great mind to throw you out of the window,” said Ray.

“Do,” pleaded Tommy, “I like to be out after dark.”

Ray caught the little fellow up between his thumb and finger and tossed him lightly out of the window. As Tommy was a Pebble of course it did not hurt him. Ray turned over and tried to go to sleep, but it was impossible, as Tommy was knocking on the window pane for him.

“Come out, come out, Ray,” cried Tommy, “there’s going to be a party to-night.”

“What a mischievous little rogue Tommy is,” said Ray to himself, “I won’t mind him at all,” and he turned on the other side to have a sleep.

“If you won’t come out, please take me in, Ray,” whispered Tommy in his most coaxing voice. “You know I’ve had the measles and the night dews are so bad for my chest.”

Ray could not resist this appeal, so he jumped up and put on his clothes as quickly as possible. He stole softly out of the window and climbed down the low shed.

“Where are you, Tommy?” cried Ray, when his feet touched the ground.

“Here I am,” replied Tommy, and there he stood with a tiny lantern in his hand.

“Where did you get that lantern?” asked Ray.

Tommy was laughing and his eyes twinkled as he said, “A Will-o’-the-wisp let me take it to go to the party.”

“What party?” asked the astonished Ray.

“Why, there’s a grand ball to-night in Jack-o’-lantern’s Hall, and everybody is going.”

“You can’t go,” cried Ray; but Tommy suddenly started off and ran as fast as he could down the hill with Ray after him.

Ray could see the flash of light from the lantern every now and then, and he tried hard to catch Tommy. All of a sudden the lantern disappeared, and Ray was alone in the darkness.

All at once he became aware of two eyes staring at him, and looking up he saw a great owl sitting on the low branch of a tree.

“O wise owl, will you please tell me where Jack-o’-lantern’s Hall is?” asked Ray.

“Go over the hill to the marsh-land and you will find it, my boy,” said the wise owl.

“Did you see Tommy Pebble pass by with a lantern just now?”

“They all carry lanterns who go there,” replied the owl.

“Why don’t you go to the party?” asked Ray.

“Because I have an engagement with another party,” was the answer.

“I hope you have a pleasant time,” remarked the boy; but the owl said in a very solemn voice:

“This is a business engagement with a field mouse or two; I might say it is business and pleasure combined.”

Just then several lanterns went past and Ray left the wise owl to follow the flittering light. On and on he ran and never stopped until he was quite out of breath. He found himself at the Laughing Rock, and on top of it was Mr. Pebble, sitting cross-legged, smiling at him.

“Where’s Tommy?” asked the jolly papa.

“I don’t know,” replied Ray, “he’s up to some mischief very likely.”

Then he told Mr. Pebble about Tommy’s running off to the party. Mr. Pebble roared with laughter, and Ray found himself sitting on the rock laughing so hard that it shook.

All of a sudden he saw Mr. Pebble roll up his sleeves and work very fast, while flashes like sunbeams seemed to shoot out of the rock.

At last Ray stopped laughing and Mr. Pebble disappeared, saying softly:—“Good supply of coal to-day.”

CHAPTER XI. THE TALKING CHAIR.

YOU would never have thought that the chair could talk if you had seen it, and perhaps it would not have said a word for you and me, but it certainly did for Dorothy. It was a solid wooden chair and very old-fashioned. It had a face quaintly carved on its straight back, and Aunt Polly thought a great deal of this old chair because it had belonged to her great-grandmother. One day Dorothy was visiting Aunt Polly with her best doll, Susan Ida. The little girl sat on a hassock and put Susan Ida in the old chair in front of her.

“How do you do, Susan?” said a voice. “I’m real glad to see you; make yourself comfortable.”

Dorothy looked all around to see who had been talking, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Then she saw the carved face on the chair smiling at her.

“Were you talking just now?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the chair, “I like to talk to little children.”

“Do you really,” said Dorothy; “then perhaps you could tell me a story?”

“Nothing easier,” replied the chair, “which would you prefer to hear; ‘The Enchanted Horse,’ ‘The Three Boxes,’ or ‘The Beautiful Princess Isabelle’?”

“O,” said Dorothy, “tell me about the beautiful Princess Isabelle.”

“Very well,” said the chair, “you shall hear.”

“Excuse me,” said Dorothy, “before you begin. Do you mind Susan Ida sitting on you? She’ll be very quiet.”

“Not at all,” was the answer, “I don’t mind being sat on,” and the chair began the story:—

Once upon a time there lived a beautiful little princess whose name was Isabelle. She had exquisite dolls, wonderful toys and lived in a most beautiful castle. But she was not quite happy because she had no little brother or sister or cousin to play with. She did not have even a little friend to visit. She lived quite alone in the great castle with the servants and sometimes she felt very lonely. Every day she walked in the castle garden and longed for a playmate. One day as she sat in her little summer-house she said aloud, “O, how I would like somebody to play with.” She tapped her foot on the ground and sighed.

All at once as she sat there a little old woman appeared before her.

She wore a pointed hat and carried a crooked staff, and said in a squeaky voice:

“Well, my dear, you tapped for me; what would you like? Think a long time before you speak, because I cannot come again for seven years.”

But little Isabelle did not wait a moment. She said eagerly, “Give me a playmate.”

“You shall have one,” said the old woman, and she struck the floor three times with her crooked stick, saying:

The old woman disappeared with a loud laugh and immediately a great black crow flew into the summer-house. Poor little Isabelle, she felt so disappointed that she could have cried. She had asked for a playmate, and the wicked old woman had given her a crow. But she was a kind good little girl as well as a beautiful princess, and she felt sorry for the poor black crow. It looked so lonesome as it perched on the back of a chair that Isabelle said sweetly:

“Poor crow, I wonder what name I had better call you?”

“Call me Thalia,” said the crow.

“Thalia,” repeated Isabelle. “What a pretty name, where did you hear it?”

“It is my right name,” answered the crow, “and that wicked old woman calls me a crow.”

“But, Thalia,” said Isabelle, “you look just like a crow.”

“Alas! I know it,” replied the bird; “but I was once a little princess like yourself. That old woman turned me into a crow and kept me in her enchanted castle, until to-day, when she called me here.”

Isabelle was very much surprised to hear Thalia’s story and said, “I wish I could turn you back into a princess again.”

“O, how I wish you could!” exclaimed the crow; “but as there is only one way to do it, I fear that I can never be changed.”

“Tell me,” said Isabelle, “the way that it can be done.”

“If you could get the old woman’s crooked stick you could change me back into my right shape, but you never could get the stick,” said the crow.

“But why not?” asked Isabelle. “Couldn’t I go to the old woman’s enchanted castle and take the stick while she was asleep?”

“But she never sleeps,” said the crow, “and she never lets the stick out of her hand.”

“Then I don’t see how we could ever get it,” cried Isabelle sorrowfully. The poor crow looked very sad, and Isabelle was quiet for a long time thinking hard. “I am going to try,” she cried all at once. “I shall go to the enchanted castle and see if I can get the crooked staff.”

The crow shook her head saying, “I’m afraid you’ll never find the castle, and even if you did, you could never get the crooked staff.”

“There is nothing like trying, you know,” replied the brave little girl; and the next morning, bright and early, the beautiful Princess Isabelle started out on a long journey to find the old woman’s enchanted castle.

She walked a long distance, then she came to a little red house. Isabelle knocked on the door and a fox with a bushy tail opened it.

“Will you please tell me how to find the enchanted castle of the old woman with the pointed hat and crooked staff?” asked the Princess.

“If I tell you,” said the fox, “will you promise to come back?”

“I promise,” answered Isabelle.

“Turn to your right,” said the fox, “and climb the first hill you see.”

“Thank you,” replied Isabelle, and she did just as the fox told her to do.

When she climbed to the top of the hill she came to another little red house, and on knocking at the door a goat appeared.

“Will you please tell me how to find the enchanted castle of the old woman with the pointed hat and the crooked staff?”

“If I tell you,” said the goat, “will you promise to come back to me?”

“I promise,” was the answer, and the goat said:

“Turn to your right and go up the first hill you see.”

Isabelle thanked the goat, and followed his directions. When the top of the second hill was reached she stood before another little red house.

She knocked, and a green parrot came to the door.

“Will you please tell me how to get to the enchanted castle of the old woman with the pointed hat and the crooked staff?” asked the little girl.

“If I tell you, will you promise to come back?” said the parrot.

“I promise,” said Isabelle.

“Then be very careful,” cried the parrot, “for you are almost there. Walk until you come to a dense woods, take the narrow path and you will find the enchanted castle.”

“Thank you,” returned Isabelle, and she started off in the direction of the woods. She found the narrow path, and after walking a long way she came to the old woman’s castle.

At first she hid behind some bushes and looked around, but after a while she decided to walk boldly up to the castle. She had gone but a few steps when somebody touched her on the shoulder, and turning around she found herself face to face with the wicked old woman of the pointed hat and crooked staff.

“How do you do, Isabelle?” said the old woman in a cracked voice; “and how do you like your new playmate? Ha! ha! ha!” and she laughed aloud and struck the ground with her crooked staff.

Isabelle greeted the old woman politely and said, “I have heard that you are a very powerful fairy, is it true?”

“Indeed it is,” said the old woman very much pleased. “I can do wonderful things.”

Isabelle greeted the old woman politely and said, “I have heard that you are a very powerful fairy; is it true?”—Page 140. Little Miss Dorothy.

“So I have heard,” replied Isabelle, “that you can even turn people into different shapes and animals, but I don’t believe it.”

“It is all true,” cried the old woman, “I can prove it to you; just ask me to change something and you will see for yourself.”

“Well,” said Isabelle, “if you are a powerful fairy, turn your crooked staff into a little bird.”

“O, that is very easy,” said the old woman, and she swung her staff around her head three times saying:—

In the twinkling of an eye the crooked staff had disappeared and a little yellow bird began to fly over their heads, singing all the time.

Isabelle watched it as it flew over the trees and all at once it came right down into her hand.

“Now,” said the old woman, “do you believe my power?”

“It is wonderful,” replied Isabelle, “but can you turn the bird back to the crooked staff?”

“Certainly, I have but to wet my fingers and touch the bird; see——”

Now Isabelle was on the alert and the minute the old woman touched the bird the little Princess held on to it with all her might. The bird changed to the crooked staff in her hand and she had it at last.

“You see that I am a powerful fairy,” said the old woman, “and now give me my crooked staff.”

“Not so fast,” replied Isabelle, “I have it and I mean to do some good with it.”

The old woman was terribly angry when she saw how foolishly she had lost her crooked staff, and promised everything to Isabelle if she would give it up. But the little Princess would not let go of the crooked staff for anything.

Then the wicked old woman began to threaten and Isabelle waved the wonderful staff and said:

“I want this old woman to return to her castle and stay there forever.”

Instantly the old woman disappeared and was never seen again.

Isabelle walked out of the woods and retraced her steps as fast as she could to the green parrot’s house.

The parrot was waiting at the door and the minute Isabelle appeared said, “Touch me with the crooked staff.”

Isabelle touched the green parrot lightly and all at once the bird had disappeared and in its place stood a beautiful queen.

“Thank you, Isabelle,” said the lovely lady. “You have saved me from a terrible fate.”

“I am very glad to be able to do so,” replied the Princess. “Tell me how this dreadful thing happened.”

“I was a queen beloved of all my people, but one day the wicked old woman with the pointed hat and the crooked staff turned me into a parrot. I was then transported to this little red house, and I have never seen my husband the king or my two children since.”

“Come with me,” said Isabelle; “perhaps we can find them.”

They hurried to the next little red house and the goat was already waiting for them. Without a word Isabelle touched the goat with the crooked staff and it changed into a handsome man.

“My husband the king,” said the happy queen, and they embraced each other with tears of joy.

“Now we have one more little red house to visit,” cried Isabelle, and they all walked rapidly until they reached the third little red house.

The instant they appeared the fox came out of the house, and in a shorter time than I can tell you Isabelle, by means of the crooked staff, had turned the fox into a beautiful little boy who ran to the king and queen, calling them “papa” and “mamma.”

“Our dear child,” cried the queen, “how glad we are to have you with us again! If we could only see our lovely Thalia once more!”

“‘Thalia,’ did you say?” asked Isabelle.

“Yes,” replied the king, “she was our little daughter. But, alas! we do not even know of her existence.”

Isabelle smiled when she thought of the pleasant surprise she had in store for her new friends. She waved the crooked staff and wished that she, with the king, queen, and boy might be transported to the summer-house in her own garden. In a second they were all there, and the very first thing they saw was the black crow perched on the chair.

“Dearest Thalia,” said Isabelle, at the same time waving the crooked staff, “become thy beautiful self again.”

O what a wonderful change! In place of the poor black crow stood a lovely little girl. She kissed her father and mother and threw her arms around her brother’s neck.

Words would fail to tell how much they all loved the beautiful little Princess Isabelle.

But she was very happy, because she had gained two little playmates, Thalia and her brother.

The king and queen decided to live in Isabelle’s castle, so you see she was never lonely again.

“Thank you,” said Dorothy, when the Talking Chair had finished the story.

“Will you tell me another story some time?”

“With pleasure, my dear,” said the chair, and the carved face smiled at Dorothy.

CHAPTER XII. THE ENCHANTED HORSE.

DOROTHY May had told her cousin Ray about the Talking Chair, and the very next time he went to visit Aunt Polly, Ray sat in the chair and asked for a story.

“Won’t you please tell me about the enchanted horse?” said Ray.

The Talking Chair gave a low laugh, saying:

“How would you like to have the enchanted horse yourself, Ray?”

“O, that would be fine!” exclaimed Ray.

“Then do as I tell you and you will find it,” said the Talking Chair.

“First close your eyes, now take a deep breath; when I count ten open your eyes and go wherever you please.”

Ray did exactly as the Talking Chair directed, and when he opened his eyes he found himself in a strange country. He started to walk across a field and met a beautiful little boy.

The boy smiled at Ray and said, “My name is Stanzill, I am the keeper of the enchanted horse.”

“Are you?” exclaimed Ray. “How I would like to see it!”

“You may see it and have it for your own if you can guess my riddle.”

“Let me hear it,” said Ray, and Stanzill began:

Ray had heard riddles before but he was not very good at guessing them.

“Will you please say it once more?” said Ray, and Stanzill smiled and repeated the riddle.

“Now be very careful,” said Stanzill, “because you only have three guesses.”

“Is it a fish?” asked Ray. Stanzill shook his head.

“Is it a bird?”

Again Stanzill shook his head and said, “Now you have just one more guess, if you wish I can tell you the right answer, but if I do, you can never see the enchanted horse.”

“Then don’t tell me,” said Ray. “I’ll try very hard to guess it this time.”

“You may have a day to guess it,” said Stanzill. “I shall leave you now, but to-morrow meet me at this spot; if you have the answer, you shall have the enchanted horse; if not, you will never see me again.”

Stanzill disappeared and Ray sat on the grass to think of the answer to the riddle. He repeated the words of the riddle slowly.

“What can it be?” said Ray to himself, and looking up he chanced to see a pond of water in the center of the field. He ran over to the pond and taking off his shoes and stockings he waded in the edge of the pond. The water was smooth as glass, and all of a sudden Ray saw his own image reflected in the shining surface. Ray smiled and his shadow smiled back, then he clapped his hands and the boy in the pond did the same.

“Now I know,” said Ray, and he jumped out of the water and put on his shoes and stockings. He started to run and never stopped till he reached a stone tower on a hill. Ray ran into the tower and shouted “Hello!” “Hello!” shouted the echo, “I am Ray,” shouted the boy “I am Ray,” shouted the echo.

Ray was delighted; he ran out of the tower and down the hill to wait for Stanzill. In a few moments he saw the boy appear. Stanzill approached and said:

“Your shadow and echo, his name is Stanzill,” answered Ray.

“You are right,” said the stranger, “and you shall have the wonderful enchanted horse.”

“Shall I have it to keep for my own?” asked Ray.

“It shall be yours forever if you remember one thing,” said Stanzill.

“It is a fairy horse, as you know, and can do all things; but when once on its back, you must never look behind—if you do, it will be lost to you forever.”

So saying Stanzill disappeared and in his place stood a beautiful white horse, just tall enough for Ray. After stroking the handsome horse, he swung himself into the saddle. “Away to fairyland,” said Ray, waving his hand.

Right up into the air rose the enchanted horse, with Ray on his back, and swift as thought he flew through the air. Over the fair land to the other end of the earth went the horse, and then came down so that Ray could look about. It was midday in fairyland and many of the fairies were asleep on the bosom of the flowers. Others were sailing past on silvery clouds, and on the leaves of an aspen tree near by Ray saw several fairies playing see-saw. It was all very still and dreamy at midday in fairyland and Ray was afraid he would fall asleep if he remained, so he jumped on the enchanted horse, and said, “Away to the Ice King’s country.”

Again the horse rose in the air and followed the course of the north wind. The air was sharp and cold, and sometimes they passed through places where snow was falling. At last Ray looked down and beheld a country of snow-fields and ice castles. He saw stretches of cold blue water where immense icebergs moved like floating mountains.

Great white bears roamed over the snow-fields and seals and walrus floated on the icebergs. It was all very beautiful, but piercing cold, and Ray did not dismount.

“I think we had better start for a warmer climate,” said Ray, leaning forward and stroking the horse. “I would like to go to the end of the rainbow,” he whispered softly.

No sooner did he say the words than the enchanted horse turned and started south. It was a very wonderful ride, and Ray saw many strange sights, but when he reached the country at the end of the rainbow he dismounted and was lost in admiration. He had always heard that there were bags full of gold at the end of the rainbow, but in reality he found that the streets were paved with gold and silver, inlaid with precious stones. The sun tinted the fields with the blue of the midday sky and the hills with the rose color of the twilight. The flowers looked like our own beautiful ones, the only difference being, that when you plucked them from the stem, they hardened into permanent shapes of beauty and the heart of each flower showed a beautiful gem.

In the center of every rose a drop of dew had crystallized into a sparkling diamond, while every lily contained a pearl of priceless beauty hidden in its bosom.

“The end of the rainbow is the loveliest place in the world,” exclaimed Ray; “but now I must visit some other place. I think that I would like to visit the clouds,” he said, and in a second he was on the back of the horse and up he rose into the balmy air toward the clouds.

He passed a great gray cloud castle that was moving very rapidly. He watched its great domes and towers and suddenly a giant appeared on the castle wall. “I am the Rain Giant,” said he, but before Ray could speak, the giant on the castle wall had passed, and Ray remembered that he must not look behind.

Suddenly another castle was seen approaching and over the great entrance it read, “Castle of the Thunder Giant.” The noise around the castle was almost deafening, and Ray saw two great giants in the castle garden fencing with golden swords. Every time their swords clashed a streak of lightning went through the sky. Ray moved so fast on the enchanted horse, that the thunder castle was soon far behind. Away in the distance Ray could see something that looked like a ball of fire. Suddenly the horse stopped and Ray jumped off, and stood on a cloud hill. Just then he caught sight of a beautiful little girl who was hiding behind a soft white cloud. Ray tried to catch her, but she ran in and out and he had to chase her a long time before he could get her.

“What is your name?” asked Ray.

“They call me Sunbeam,” replied the little girl.

“What do you do all day?” asked Ray, and little Sunbeam replied:

“All the good I can.”

“But were you not playing when I came along?” said Ray.

“Yes,” replied Sunbeam, “but it was to make some one else happy. Look down,” and she pointed to the earth.

Ray looked and saw a little boy with a white face lying in a bed. He was watching with sad eyes a corner of his little room. Suddenly a smile broke over his face, and Ray saw Sunbeam playing hide-and-seek in the very corner, and the sick boy’s face brightened and he forgot his pain.

“I steal into dark places to lighten them,” said Sunbeam, “and sometimes I steal into people’s hearts that are darker than the places.”

“I think I would like to be a sunbeam!” exclaimed Ray.

“But you are,” said his companion. “All little children are sunbeams, and when they show smiling faces and willing hands they bring happiness to everybody.”

When she said these words she darted off and Ray mounted his horse and continued his journey.

“Now I want to visit the country where all the bad giants live,” said Ray, and once more the enchanted horse headed his course for a new journey.

This journey was very exciting, because they passed witches and goblins on the road and some of them attempted to follow Ray. His horse went like the wind and Ray was not afraid until all at once he saw an old woman mounted on a broomstick coming toward him. He quickly turned his horse’s head the other way and was soon ahead of the witch on the broomstick.

But Ray could hear her laugh behind him and suddenly she called out in a cracked voice, “Come, goblins; come, witches, let us all join in the merry chase.”

Faster and faster flew the enchanted horse, but Ray could hear the loud voices and laughter close behind. He grew frightened and forgot that he should not look behind. With his horse going like mad, he suddenly turned around and looked back. The old woman on the broomstick gave a loud laugh, and all at once disappeared. Ray rubbed his eyes and looked around him. The enchanted horse was gone and his rider was sitting safe and sound in the Talking Chair.

CHAPTER XIII. THE THREE BOXES.

DOROTHY climbed on the Talking Chair and sat with her back to the quaintly carved face. She turned her head and whispered:

“Please tell me another story, like a good chair.”

“Which shall it be to-day?” asked the chair.

“O, tell me about ‘The Three Boxes’!” exclaimed Dorothy, “I have been thinking about them.”

“Listen, I’ll begin,” said the chair:—

Once upon a time in a beautiful castle lived a prince. He was honest, brave and as wise as he was handsome. His name was Prince Charming, and everybody loved him. There was only one thing that his people desired him to do, and that was to give them a queen. But although beautiful maidens lived in his country and many a lovely princess had visited his castle, he had never seen one that he cared to make queen.

One day at a grand fête his greatest captain said to him:

“Ah! Prince Charming, your people love you, but they are disappointed because there is no queen to welcome them.”

“I must have a queen,” replied the prince, “and to-morrow I shall start on a long journey. I will visit all the kingdoms on the earth to find a queen that I can truly love.”

The next morning he started out alone on his long journey. Taking the path that led to the woods he walked quickly. He had gone but a short distance when he was surprised by loud voices, and through an opening in the trees he beheld two men about to rush on each other with drawn swords. Prince Charming stepped out and stood before the angry men.

“Halt! I command you,” he said, and the men seeing their Prince dropped back and put up their swords.

“Halt! I command you,” he said, and the men, seeing their Prince, dropped back and put up their swords.—Page 161. Little Miss Dorothy.

“Tell me why you quarrel?” asked the Prince.

“We were walking through the woods,” said one of the men, “and I spied a purse of gold in the mud of yonder thicket. I told my companion and we started to run for the purse. On the way my foot got caught in a trap and I could not move. My friend here got the purse and then came back and helped me out of the trap, but he will not give up the purse to me.”

“Nor should he do so,” said the Prince. “It is true that you saw the purse, but it was your friend who dug it out of the mud. You must both go to my captain and tell him about the purse. He will try to find the owner, but if no one appears to claim the purse, you shall divide the gold between you, and each have an equal share.”

The men promised to obey their Prince and they went on their way in friendship, well satisfied.

A little farther on in the woods Prince Charming came suddenly on two old women who were quarreling about a young goat. They stopped when they saw the Prince approach and one of them said, “O Prince, the kid is mine, and I must have it.”

“Nay, good Prince,” said the other, “the kid is mine and I need it much.”

The Prince turned to the old woman who had spoken first and said:

“Prove to me that the kid is thine.”

“I live in yonder cottage,” said the old woman, “with a pig and a cow and a brood of little chicks. This kid gives me milk and it is mine.”

“Now,” said the Prince to the other old woman, “how canst thou prove the kid is thine?”

“Alas!” said the poor old woman, “I can only say that it is mine. I live in the cottage beside this dame. I have neither pig nor cow, but a little garden and this good kid. It feeds from my hand and comes to me when I call its name.”

“I shall buy the kid and carry it far away with me,” said the Prince. “How much will you ask for it?”

“O,” said the first old woman, rubbing her hands, “I will sell it to thee for a piece of gold.”

“How much do you ask for it?” said Prince Charming to the second old woman.

She took the corner of her apron and wiped the tears from her kind eyes. “I will not sell my kid,” she said. “It is all I have. I love the gentle creature and rather than have it go far away I will let this dame keep it.”

“I see that the kid is yours and you shall have it,” said the Prince. “Take it and go thy way.”

“As for you, wicked old woman, tell me the truth at once.”

Whereupon the greedy old woman began to mumble excuses, but the Prince was very angry and said:

“You have a pig and a cow and yet are so grasping that you would take the kid of your neighbor; now if you are not more honest I will put thee in my great prison.”

The Prince continued his way and deep in the woods he met a boy gathering fagots. He was working very hard and would not stop a second.

“Why do you work so fast?” said the Prince.

“Because my master is waiting,” answered the boy, “and if I am not back at a certain time he will be angry and beat me.”

The Prince helped the boy gather the fagots and when the basket was filled he carried it through the woods. As they approached the cruel master’s house the Prince said to the boy:

“Go thou and hide behind that woodpile and I will see thy master.”

Prince Charming knocked on the door and the cruel master appeared.

“I want a boy,” said the Prince. “Dost thou know of one to travel with me?”

“No, Prince,” was the answer. “I have one, but he is lazy and does not earn his bread and butter.”

“Then I will take him,” said the Prince. “If he were a help I would not rob thee of his good service, but as he is lazy I will take him off thy hands.”

The cruel master began to stammer and stutter.

“Alas! Prince, I beg you to forgive me. He is a most worthy boy and helps me very much. You would not take him away from me?”

“Thou art a cruel master,” said the Prince, “and thou hast spoken an untruth of the boy.”

The master trembled when he saw the Prince angry and he begged for mercy.

“This much mercy I will have for thee,” said the Prince, “from this day thou shalt treat the boy with all kindness. I will leave him here and he will help thee fairly, but on my return I will come and if thou hast been cruel or neglectful I will put thee in my great prison.”

The Prince then continued his journey and was soon in the heart of the forest. When night came he spread his cloak on the ground and slept under a great oak, and the fairies watched over him because he was good and they loved him. The next morning he was awakened by the joyous singing of the birds. He took some bread and cheese from his wallet, and when he had eaten, he arose to go on his way. Suddenly there appeared before him a beautiful fairy. The Prince made a low courtesy to the fairy, who smiled at him and held three small boxes in her hand.

“Prince Charming,” said the fairy, “these boxes are a gift from the fairies, continue thy journey until you reach a great castle surrounded by a high wall. Stop at this high wall and open these boxes, they will help you find your queen.”

“Thank you, beautiful fairy,” said Prince Charming, and he took the three boxes and carefully placed them in his pocket.

The fairy disappeared, and the Prince walked on his way. All that day he traveled over hill and dale, and when night came he slept in the cottage of an old woman. The next morning he gave the old woman a piece of gold and started out again. He had gone a long distance when he saw before him a great castle surrounded by a wall of stone.

The wall was so high that you could only see the top of the castle. The Prince walked all around the stone wall, but there was no gate, and he wondered how he was going to climb it. Suddenly he remembered the fairy boxes and he took one out of his pocket. On opening the box he found a tiny brown seed and under it was written in very small letters the word “plant.”

The Prince took the brown seed and put it in the ground close to the stone wall, covering it lightly with the soft earth. All at once a small sprout appeared, which began to grow larger and larger, coiling itself against the stone wall and spreading like a great vine, thick and strong. In a few minutes it had grown to the top of the great wall and its stalk was so large that the Prince could easily climb it.

It did not take him very long to get over the high wall by means of the fairy vine. When he was safe on the other side he found himself in the pathway of a beautiful garden. He walked along till he came to the great door of the castle, where he knocked loudly, but no one came. He knocked again and again, and still nobody opened the door. Just then he thought of the fairy boxes, and he took the second one out of his pocket. He opened it and found a tiny key and under it read the word “unlock.”

He immediately tried the key, and in a second the castle door flew open and he walked in. A powerful king was sitting on the throne in a large hall and he welcomed Prince Charming, who told his errand.

“I have three daughters,” said the King, “and you can choose for yourself. It would be a great honor to have you make one of them your queen.”

“May I see your daughters?” asked the Prince.

“Yes,” said the King; “they are somewhere about the castle, but I will have them here at once.” The king blew a trumpet and suddenly a beautiful princess appeared and walked to her father’s throne.

“This is the Princess Vanity,” said the King, and Prince Charming bowed low to the beautiful girl, who made a graceful courtesy.

“How lovely she is!” thought the Prince, but just then another princess appeared and the King said, “This is the Princess Haughty.” She bowed and held three fingers to the Prince, who was charmed with her stately beauty. “And here is my third little daughter,” said the King, as a beautiful golden-haired maiden tripped up to the throne, with a face as smiling as a sunbeam, “the Princess Goodness.”

What a pleasant greeting she gave Prince Charming and how sweet and low her voice!

“Now, Prince,” said the King, “I hope you will be our guest for a long time and my daughters will entertain you.”

The Prince thanked the King, and was soon enjoying the company of the three beautiful daughters. As the days went on it was hard to make up his mind which was the most beautiful of the three girls, and one night when the Prince was sitting in his chamber he thought he was in love with all three of them. “But I cannot marry all of them. I can only take one for my queen,” said he, and he was puzzled.

Suddenly he thought of the third box in his pocket, and he took it out and quickly opened it. Inside there was a beautiful gold ring and underneath was written

Prince Charming smiled and placed the ring carefully in his pocket.

The next morning as he strolled through the castle he caught sight of Princess Vanity in her parlor. The Prince tapped gently and entered, but she was so intently admiring herself in the glass that she never saw the Prince. She was bedecked and beribboned with jewels and laces, and she smirked and smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

“Hem!” coughed Prince Charming to attract her attention, but she never heard him. “Hem-em” coughed the Prince very loud, and Princess Vanity turned quickly.

“Why, Prince, how you surprised me!” and she gave him one of the smiles that she had been practising for several minutes.

“My beautiful Princess, I do not wish to disturb you, but will you let me see your left hand.”

She smilingly held up her hand and he tried on the fairy ring, but it would not fit and the Prince bowed and left her.

“How glad I am that it is not the Princess Vanity,” said Prince Charming. “She is beautiful but that is all.”

Suddenly as he walked along he saw Princess Haughty. She was just going up-stairs and never a pleasant good morning did she say to her women who were standing about.

Prince Charming followed quickly and overtook Princess Haughty on the stairs.

“Will you please try on this ring?” asked the handsome Prince.

She took it in her finger-tips and tried it on, but it would not fit her at all, and she returned it to Prince Charming with a sneer on her beautiful face.

The Prince thanked her and hurried off, knowing in his heart that he was glad.

“Her heart is proud and she is cold; I do not want a queen like that,” said the Prince to himself.

“Now to find Goodness, and if the ring does not fit her I must continue my journey, for I am bound to bring a queen home to my people.”

He looked all over the castle, but could not find the Princess Goodness. He went into the garden, and just as he turned into a path he caught a glimpse of her. The Prince watched her through some bushes and saw that she was helping an old woman to carry a heavy basket, and her cheery voice was like sweet music to Prince Charming’s ear.

The Prince stepped out and took the basket, which he carried to the castle. When he returned to the garden the Princess Goodness was gathering flowers. She held a beautiful rose in her hand, and said to the Prince: “Is it not lovely?” Then she gave it to him.

“It is not half as lovely as yourself,” whispered Prince Charming, and he caught the little hand of the Princess. He slipped the ring out of his pocket and on to her finger, which it fitted perfectly.

Prince Charming bent his handsome head and kissed Princess Goodness, saying softly:—“My Queen.”

CHAPTER XIV. THE TWO BROTHERS.

ONE afternoon the face on the Talking Chair smiled at Ray, who was sitting on the floor.

“A story?” whispered the Talking Chair.

“Yes, if you please,” replied Ray, and he sat very still while the Talking Chair began:—

Once upon a time in a distant land there lived two brothers whose names were Mansur and Elrick. When they reached a certain age they wanted to travel and see the world, so they went to their father, who was the king, and asked him if they could go.

“No doubt you would like to reach King Fortune’s country,” said their father.

“That we would, Sire,” replied Mansur; “will you please tell us how to get there?”

“Before I do that,” returned the king, “let me tell you that many have started for King Fortune’s country who have never reached it.”

“And why?” questioned the brothers.

“Because the road is long and beset with dangers.”

“We are not afraid to try it,” said Mansur, bravely.

“Then, my boys, take the road straight ahead, keep going forward, and remember these words: Be brave, honest, and never give up.”

Then the King gave each of the brothers a sword, an ax, and a purse of gold, and they started on their journey.

They walked all day and towards night entered a deep forest.

“Where can we sleep?” asked Elrick. “There is no place in these woods; let us go back.”

“We will never go back for such a small thing as that,” said Mansur, and he started to make a bed of dry leaves. In a few minutes the bed was made, and very soft and comfortable it seemed to the tired travelers.

The brothers slept soundly, but just as morning broke, they were awakened by a terrible roar. They jumped to their feet and in the distance, coming toward them, was a great lion with eyes like balls of fire.

“We shall be eaten by the lion,” cried Elrick, and he trembled where he stood.

“Draw your sword,” said Mansur.

“What good will that do?” replied Elrick. “We are no match for a lion.”

“I shall fight for my life,” returned Mansur, and with the words the lion approached and made a spring, but Mansur was all ready for him, and the brave boy plunged his good sword into the very heart of the lion, who rolled at his feet dead.

The brothers continued their journey and were soon out of the forest. Suddenly they came to a great lake and there was neither boat nor craft of any kind to take them across.

“What shall we do?” exclaimed Elrick. “There is no way to get across the lake.”

“We must try,” said Mansur, and he took his ax and began to cut down some trees.

When he had enough he trimmed off all the branches, and tied them together, making a very good raft. In a short time they had crossed the lake and were on land again.

They journeyed on until they came to a high mountain, where they sat down to rest. They bought some bread from an old woman, and while they were eating it Elrick said:

“I am tired of traveling. This mountain is too high to climb, let us go back.”

“Never,” replied his brother, “until I have reached King Fortune’s country.” So saying he arose and started to climb the high mountain.

Elrick followed slowly and murmured all the way, but Mansur kept right on without a word of complaint. They had gone about half way up the mountain when all at once they fell, and before they could stop themselves, they rolled over and over down the mountain side and never stopped until they reached its base.

“It is too bad,” exclaimed Elrick, picking himself up, “when we were so far up the mountain, to fall. I am not going to climb it again, are you?”

“Yes, indeed I am,” replied Mansur, and began to climb the steep mountain again as fast as he could.

Elrick did not want to do it, but he felt a little ashamed when he saw his brother, so he arose and followed him.

On and on they struggled, it was very hard work and they were both tired. They had almost reached the top of the mountain, when they stumbled and once more they fell, rolling over and over, and never stopped until they were in their old place at the very foot of the mountain.

“That is truly discouraging,” said Elrick, “and I for one will not try again.”

“Then I must climb it alone,” said Mansur. “I am bound to get over this mountain.”

“But I am sure you cannot,” replied Elrick.

“I’ll try,” said Mansur, and he started all over again.

Elrick grumbled all the way, but after a long tiresome journey they reached the top. It did not take them very long to go down the other side of the mountain, and they saw a river before them.

Elrick sat on the bank and wondered how he was going to get across, while Mansur took off his clothes and having made them into a bundle tied it on his head and swam across the river.

“I’m afraid,” said Elrick. “I think I’ll turn back, there are too many hard places to go over to reach King Fortune’s country.”

“Come on!” shouted Mansur. “You haven’t tried yet.”

But faint-hearted Elrick turned his footsteps homeward and was soon out of sight. Mansur continued his journey alone amid many a danger and hardship. Sometimes it was high mountains to climb, at other times there were wide rivers to cross. Often he met wild animals and had to fight for his life, and very often wicked people tried to lure him from the right path. Throughout it all Mansur was brave, honest and hopeful; his favorite motto was, “I’ll try,” and in spite of rough places he always succeeded. The purse of gold that his father had given him was empty, and he had to work for his food and sleep on the roadside.

One day as he journeyed on he met an old man, who greeted him pleasantly.

“Will you tell me, good sire, how far it is to King Fortune’s country?” questioned Mansur.

“You are almost there,” replied the old man. “You have only to travel through that forest.” He pointed to a stretch of woods just ahead of them and Mansur said joyfully, “I am glad it is so near, for I have traveled far.”

“Ah! my son,” said the old man, “the hardest part of the journey is still before you.”

“How can that be?” asked Mansur; “the wood is not large and I will soon be out of it.”

“It is the abode of three terrible giants,” said the old man, “and they will surely kill you. It would be death to go through that wood.”

“I’ll try,” was the answer, and the brave Mansur started for the wood.

He walked very cautiously, looking to the right and left, but saw no sign of the giants. When night came he slept in the midst of some bushes and as he closed his eyes he wondered if the giants would find him. Early the next morning he arose and when he had eaten some berries and a slice of bread he continued his way through the wood. Suddenly he spied in the distance an immense giant coming toward him.

The giant was looking on the ground and had not seen Mansur, who quick as a flash climbed a tree and was hidden among its branches.

Mansur did not get out of the way a minute too soon, because the giant approached with heavy steps. He passed right under the tree where Mansur was hiding, and the boy had a good look at him.

The most remarkable thing about the giant was his hair. It was pale green in color and gave him a most weird and terrible aspect.

When the giant was out of sight Mansur stole softly down from the tree. He looked all around and suddenly his eye caught sight of a stout cord. The boy took the cord and quickly climbed into the tree again saying, “Now I’ve got him if he comes back.”

In a very few minutes the terrible giant with the green hair was seen returning. He was looking eagerly on the ground as if he saw footsteps.

When he reached the tree where Mansur was hiding he began to sniff the air like an animal. All at once Mansur let down the noose that he had made in the cord and slipped it over the giant’s head. Before he knew it the green-haired monster was caught and held fast. The boy then drew the cord around a strong branch of the tree and the bad giant was left hanging there.

“There is one gone,” said Mansur to himself, and he went on his way.

Suddenly as he walked along a strange sight met his eyes. Right before him, stretched on the grass, asleep, was a monster with blue hair. He was larger than the green-haired giant and so ugly even in his sleep, that Mansur trembled.

Our hero stood perfectly still and looked around. In order to go on his way he would have to step over the giant. “I’ll do it,” said Mansur; and drawing his sword he stepped on the giant’s silver belt. The blue-haired monster opened his eyes and was just going to jump when Mansur plunged his sword into the bad giant’s heart. “There are two of them gone,” said Mansur; “I wonder what the third is like.”

He traveled on till he came to a great castle, in the very heart of the forest, and as he was hungry he went up to the great door and knocked. A terrible voice asked:

“Who is there?”

“Mansur,” was the reply.

“Enter,” said the terrible voice.

The great door flew open and Mansur entered. He found himself in the presence of the most fearful monster of all. His great head was covered with a tangled mass of purple hair and he was dreadful to behold.

The purple-haired giant was sitting on a great throne, and he glared at Mansur, saying in a voice of thunder: “How did you pass my brothers?”

Mansur made a low bow and said: “You had better ask them, you will find them in the path.”

“What!” roared the giant, “do you mean to say that my brothers saw you?”

“Indeed they did,” replied Mansur, “as plainly as you do.”

“Then I will kill them first,” said the purple-haired giant. “They have disobeyed me and they must die.”

“In what way have they disobeyed you?” asked the boy.

“No human being,” roared the giant, “must pass through this forest to King Fortune’s country. It was my command; you shall die, but I will first destroy them.” He crossed the room with a terrible stride and slammed the door as he went out.

“Now is my chance,” said Mansur and he tried to open the door, but it was locked fast. He ran to the windows but they had iron bars across them and he knew that he was a prisoner.

“Alas!” cried Mansur, “if he returns he will kill me in the twinkling of an eye. I must try to get out, I must try.”

He saw a heavy curtain at the end of the room. He drew it aside and saw that it hid a great door. Our brave little hero opened the door and saw a long flight of stairs, which he began to climb as fast as he could. Higher and higher he went. It seemed as if they would never end; but at last he reached the very top and saw a great iron door. He opened it quickly and found himself in the giants’ treasure room filled with gold and silver.

“Where can I go now?” exclaimed Mansur, looking in vain for a door.

“Here,” said a voice, and Mansur turned and beheld a beautiful fairy.

She touched the wall and it suddenly opened and the boy was safe.

He was in a beautiful room and the fairy said: “The purple-haired giant does not know of this room, so he can never find you here.”

“I thank you, beautiful fairy,” said Mansur, and he dropped on his knee like the brave knight that he was.

“Arise,” said the fairy; “you deserve all help, because you always try, and are brave and honest. But you are not yet out of danger,” she continued. “This purple-haired giant is such a powerful monster that no one has ever escaped him. Kings and brave knights have come to fight him with wonderful swords and battle axes only to meet defeat.”

Mansur pointed to his own trusty sword and said: “Yet I have had success with this.”

“That is true,” said the fairy; “but you must know that no sword or instrument of any kind can kill this monster, and when he has discovered that his brothers are dead he will tear you to pieces if he sees you.”

“Then what can I do?” asked Mansur.

“There is just one way to kill the purple giant.”

“And that?” asked Mansur eagerly.

“To let him see his own face in a mirror,” said the fairy. “There is nothing of the kind in this castle or forest, but, if he once sees his own terrible countenance he will be destroyed forever.

“Now, Mansur,” continued the fairy, “you will hide in this room until it is dark. Then steal softly out of the castle and go to the edge of the woods, where you will find a mirror; return with it and everything in this castle shall be yours and there is something here far more precious than gold or silver.”

The fairy disappeared, and all at once Mansur heard a beautiful voice in another part of the castle, singing a sweet sad song.

Suddenly the voice stopped, there was a terrible noise and he knew that the giant had returned. Putting his ear to the wall, Mansur could hear the monster climbing the stairs. Nearer and nearer sounded the footsteps, and at last the giant stood in his treasure room. “Where is he, where is the pigmy, till I grind him to pieces!” roared the giant. He knocked over bags of gold in his rage, but at last he gave up the search and went to look in other places. Mansur waited patiently until darkness came, and then he heard three little taps, the wall opened, and he stepped out and stole softly down the long stairs. In a few minutes he was out of the castle and he hurried through the woods. Early the next morning he reached the edge of it where he found a large looking-glass.

“Now if I only had a swift horse I would fly to the giant’s castle,” thought Mansur, and no sooner did he have the wish than a beautiful white horse stood beside him. Mansur mounted the noble steed and holding the mirror before him headed for the forest. The white horse went like the wind, and in a short time the giant’s castle appeared in sight.

“We will be there very soon,” said Mansur, and just then the purple-haired giant came in sight. The monster was walking in the path, ahead, and turning suddenly he beheld Mansur. The giant gave a terrible roar and dashed forward to meet the boy, but just as he came up Mansur held the mirror before the giant’s face. For a minute the monster gazed into the glass that reflected his own horrible countenance, then he staggered backward and fell to the ground with a groan, dead.

“Hurrah!” shouted Mansur as he jumped off the horse and ran to the castle. “Now I shall find out who has the sweet, sad voice.”

He ran into every room and at last came to a beautiful chamber where he found a princess as fair as the morning.

“Have you come to save me?” asked the princess.

Mansur bowed and laid his sword at her feet saying, “Command me, fair lady, and I obey.”

“O, take me to my father, King Fortune,” said the princess. “The wicked giant who lives in this castle brought me here, and every year my father has to pay him with bags of gold or the monster will kill me.”

“He will never harm thee more,” said Mansur. “Come, fair princess,” and he led her to his white charger that bore them safely to her father.

King Fortune rejoiced to see his daughter. When he heard that the three terrible giants were dead he praised Mansur for the bravest knight in the world. King Fortune sent his men to the giant’s castle and they got all the treasure. But he gave Mansur all the gold that he wanted, and, what was far more precious, his beautiful daughter.

Mansur thanked King Fortune and said, “Now I am satisfied. I have traveled and seen the world, so I will return to my own country with thee, my beautiful princess.”

CHAPTER XV. LITTLE MISS HELPFUL.

“YOU tell such good stories,” said Dorothy, “I would like very much to hear one to-day.”

The chair laughed merrily and said: “I think I will tell you about Little Miss Helpful.”

Little Miss Helpful was a dear little girl, who lived in a dear little cottage with a dear little grandmother. In front of the cottage was a pretty garden, with balsams and four-o’clocks and lazy hollyhocks basking in the sunshine. There was also a little bed of crisp lettuce, another of tender string beans, and best of all, a strawberry patch.

In the back of the cottage was a large yard where a busy mother hen and a brood of twelve downy chicks scratched and chuckled all day long. The little girl that I am going to tell you about was no larger than yourself, but she was such an industrious little body that every one called her Little Miss Helpful. While the chicks were just toddling about in the yard, she would sit and watch them because a certain black cat in the neighborhood had his eye on them and longed to get one for his dinner. Sometimes she hemmed a kerchief, or made a little duster while she was “minding” the chickens, and sometimes she read fairy stories all by herself. Every day she managed to get a few minutes to weed the garden, especially the strawberry patch.

I cannot tell you about all the steps she saved her dear old grandmother. It would take too long. I will merely mention the fact that she could dust as nicely as a tidy housemaid, wipe the dishes so carefully that none got broken and she could gather a basket of chips for her grandma’s fire in the shortest possible time.

One day she was sitting in the back yard “minding” the chickens. It was dreamy summer weather, and soft white clouds floated in the blue sky. Suddenly a bluebird lighted on a branch over her head and began to sing. The little girl listened to the bird and when he had finished he flew right down on her head. She was very much surprised and put up her hand to catch the bird. But he had flown away and on her head was a blue silk bonnet with long strings. She was so excited that she arose from her little chair and lo! her gingham dress disappeared and she had on the most beautiful blue silk frock and dear little blue satin slippers.

“Are you ready?” said a voice, and Little Miss Helpful saw a beautiful fairy sitting in a golden chariot.

“Please, good fairy, I cannot leave the chicks,” said the little girl; “a cat might take one.”

“She will watch the chickens until you return,” said the fairy, and she pointed to a little girl in her little chair that looked just like Miss Helpful.

Then Little Miss Helpful stepped into the golden chariot and was soon driving through the woodlands beside the beautiful fairy.

“I am going to take you to a party this afternoon; would you like to go?”

“Very much indeed, thank you,” replied the little girl, and she looked down at her blue silk dress and her little satin slippers and smiled with pleasure.

Suddenly they stopped before a great golden castle, and in a few minutes Little Miss Helpful was walking up the steps with the beautiful fairy. When they were inside the castle the fairy said: “Now I must leave you, but you can find the way yourself. Go down the long hall and open the golden door.”

The fairy disappeared and Miss Helpful started to walk down the long hall. As she went along she saw a pin on the floor, and being a careful little soul she stopped and picked it up. The instant she took the pin from the floor it turned into a beautiful fairy who said, “I will bestow upon thee this gift, thou shalt always be clean and bright as a new pin.”

The fairy disappeared when she had said the words and Little Miss Helpful continued to walk toward the golden door.

Suddenly she saw a half-wilted rose lying in a corner. She picked it up and it turned into a beautiful fairy who said, “Thou shalt be as lovely as a rose, and thy helpful ways like its fragrance bring delight to all who know thee.” This fairy also disappeared and just then the little girl found herself before the golden door.

She opened it and entered a magnificent room where beautiful kings and queens were dancing. They were all dressed in spangled white robes, but Little Miss Helpful had the most beautiful dress in the room.

A handsome prince came forward to meet Little Miss Helpful and the next minute she was dancing around the room with him.

She was feeling very happy when all at once she heard a chicken squeal. “A cat!” cried Little Miss Helpful, and she darted for the door, ran through the hall and out into the woodlands as fast as she could go. The wind was blowing and suddenly her blue silk bonnet fell off. She never stopped to pick it up, but ran on toward her grandmother’s cottage. She never noticed in her hurry that the minute her blue bonnet came off the silk dress disappeared and she had on her old gingham frock again.

She was quite out of breath when she reached the back yard. She hurriedly counted the chicks and to her dismay found only eleven. One was missing and she could have cried she felt so disappointed. She called, “Grandma, grandma!”

“What is it, dearie?” said the old lady, coming to the door.

“Alas! grandma, one of the chicks is missing,” cried the little girl, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” said her grandmother, “but look around and see if you can find it. I will watch the chickens till you return.”

Little Miss Helpful walked all around the field, calling, “Chick, chick, come chickey, chickey.” “Perhaps it strayed away,” she said to herself and she took the path for the woods and looked behind the bushes, but she could not find her chicken. All at once she saw a little girl coming toward her. The girl was swinging a blue silk bonnet in her hand and as she came nearer Little Miss Helpful saw that it was her cousin, Nannie Worthless, who lived in the village.

“See,” said Nannie, holding up the blue bonnet, “I found it in the woods and I am going to keep it.”

“It belongs to me,” cried Little Miss Helpful, “I lost it a little while ago.”

“You lost it,” said Nannie with scorn. “Why, you never had a bonnet like this in your life.”

“You may keep the bonnet, I don’t want it,” replied Miss Helpful; “but tell me, did you see a little chick?”

Nannie laughed loudly and said:

“Did you lose the chick when you lost the bonnet?”

Then Little Miss Helpful knew that Nannie was making fun of her, so she went quietly on her way and did not answer, while her cousin continued homeward with the beautiful bonnet.

Little Miss Helpful looked everywhere but the chick could not be found, so at last she turned her footsteps home, feeling very sad.

She had almost reached her grandmother’s gate, when she met Johnny Wander, a village lad.

“Have you seen anything of a little chick?” asked the girl, and Johnny rolled his eyes and said he thought he saw a chick running toward the village.

“Perhaps it is mine,” cried Miss Helpful, and she ran toward the village, but not a trace of the lost chicken could be seen. Suddenly she heard a loud trumpet call, and all the people seemed to be hurrying to the village green.

“What is the matter?” asked Miss Helpful of an old woman she met on the way.

“Why, child,” said the old woman, “don’t you know that all the village maidens are assembled on the Green by order of the Prince. He is going to select a princess. I must hurry to see who is the lucky maid!”

Little Miss Helpful thought with a pang that she might have been with all the village maidens, if it had not been for the lost chicken.

“I will go home now to grandma,” said the little girl; “the black cat must have caught it.”

Just then she reached the village green and there were all the maidens standing in a row waiting for the Prince.

They looked very pretty, especially Nannie Worthless, who wore the blue silk bonnet.

In a few minutes the Prince drove up in his golden chariot and dear Little Miss Helpful saw that it was the very Prince that she had danced with in the golden castle. But alas! he never looked at her in her old gingham dress. He saw Nannie Worthless, and making a low courtesy before her, said, “Ah! I think I have seen this bonnet before.”

Nannie blushed and smiled at the Prince, who helped her into the golden chariot. Little Miss Helpful stood apart from the crowd and felt sad indeed when she realized that the blue bonnet had won the Prince’s heart. All at once a great gust of wind came along and blew the bonnet off Nannie’s head. The handsome Prince jumped out of the chariot and ran to catch it. Away went the bonnet with the Prince after it until all of a sudden it dropped right on the head of Little Miss Helpful and stayed there as nice as could be.

Now a strange thing happened. No sooner did the blue bonnet touch Little Miss Helpful, than her gingham dress changed to the blue silk frock and her feet were encased in the dear little blue satin slippers again. In fact there she stood just as she had appeared in the golden castle.

Everybody was very much surprised, and Nannie had to get out of the golden chariot before all the people.

The Prince bowed low before Little Miss Helpful, saying, “This is my true princess,” and he helped her into his golden chariot.

The people were all delighted because they loved Little Miss Helpful and knew her goodness. The Prince drove through the village while all the folks cheered and showed their good will. All except Nannie Worthless, who was very angry. As the Prince approached Little Miss Helpful’s cottage, there stood her dear old grandmother at the gate and in her hand was the lost chicken.

The Prince bowed low before Little Miss Helpful, saying, “This is my true princess.”—Page 204. Little Miss Dorothy.

“Why, grandma, where did you find the chicken?” asked the little girl. Her grandmother laughed and said, “I found it sound asleep in my best lace cap.”

CHAPTER XVI. THE WONDERFUL JOURNEY WITH THE SCREEN GIRL .

“DON’T you love to watch the fire?” said Dorothy.

“Yes, I do,” answered Ray. “Just see that little fireman in the coals!”

“But do look at that lovely tree in the coals!” exclaimed Dorothy.

The children were sitting before a large open fire. It was two days before Christmas, and Dorothy was on a visit to cousin Ray.

The screen girl had been listening to them, and after a few minutes she whispered softly:—“Stand close together, children, then draw the screen around you and I’ll take you far away, where you will see wonderful sights.”

Ray drew the screen around himself and Dorothy, and in a few seconds they were moving softly somewhere, but of course as the screen was around them they could not see where they were going.

After a long time they stopped moving, the screen opened and the children looked about them. They were in a beautiful country. The ground was covered with snow that gleamed and glistened like diamonds, while all the trees looked just like Christmas trees.

“Put on these jackets,” said the screen girl, “so you won’t catch cold,” and she wrapped them up in white woolly suits that covered them from head to foot. “Now, children, you can take a walk in Santa Claus land,” and they started off, hand in hand, to see the sights.

The first thing they came to was a lake all frozen over, and the ice was a pale yellow color. “O see,” said Ray, stooping down to find two little pairs of skates right on the edge of the lake.

“Let’s put ’em on,” said Dorothy, “and skate around.”

The children put on the skates, and never before did they have such glorious skating.

“It’s as smooth as glass,” said Ray; “you can just fly over it.”

Just as he said the words Dorothy fell. It did not hurt her, as it was only a jolly tumble, but it broke a little piece of the ice.

Ray helped Dorothy up and at the same time took up the broken piece of ice and put it in his mouth. “O Dorothy,” said Ray, taking it out again, “take a suck of this ice, it’s perfectly lovely.”

When Dorothy had tasted, she exclaimed, “Why, Ray, it isn’t ice at all, it’s lovely lemon candy!” It was true; they were skating on a pond of the most delicious lemon candy in the world.

“Let’s not skate any longer,” said Dorothy, “let’s just sit down and eat it.”

Down they sat and broke off pieces of the ice, and enjoyed themselves until they couldn’t eat any more. They arose from the pond, and when they had taken off their skates, they started to walk over the glistening snow. They passed several ponds of different-colored ice and every one of them was a pond of candy. They walked on the ponds to sample each kind and found orange, peppermint, checkerberry and many other flavors.

As they walked towards the beautiful trees, they came to a very large one.

“Isn’t it the most beautiful tree you ever saw?” exclaimed Dorothy.

“Yes, it is,” said Ray. “I wonder who Santa Claus means it for!”

“I don’t know,” replied Dorothy, “perhaps we’ll find out.”

“Just see that lovely red sled up there!” cried Ray, clapping his hands. “It’s just what I want,” he said with glee. “O Dorothy, do look, it says on the side of it ‘Dart.’”

“Yes, yes,” answered Dorothy, dancing about, “but look at that beautiful doll near the top; isn’t she lovely?”

“O Dorothy, look quick; there’s a little horse and wagon.”

“I see it,” said the little girl, “it’s right near the gingerbread man. And, Ray, just look at the Noah’s Ark.”

“Did you ever see such big gingerbread hearts?” exclaimed Ray. “I’d like to have one to eat, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Dorothy, “but I wonder what is in the boxes and packages that are all tied up with ribbon?”

“Presents,” answered Ray, who was a year older and that much wiser than his little cousin.

For a long time the children gazed at the beautiful tree, with all its precious burden, and every moment new treasures were discovered. Then they walked to the next Christmas tree and looked at that. When they had seen many of the trees they thought that they would walk on and see the other sights. After walking a short distance they came to a beautiful snow castle. They opened the door, peeped in, and what do you suppose they saw? A long row of boxes the whole length of the room. The first box was very large, the one next to it was a little smaller, the next still smaller, and so on until they dwindled down to a tiny box on the end.

“I wonder what is in them?” said Ray with curiosity.

“Open one and see,” replied Dorothy quickly.

Ray just touched the lid of the large box, when up it flew and there jumped out the largest Jack-in-the-box the children had ever seen.

The minute he jumped he grinned at them and said “Rubber.”

It was so sudden that the children started back, but when he disappeared in the box again, they laughed loudly and clapped their hands.

“I wonder what he meant?” said Ray, and just then he caught sight of a small rubber button, on the side of the box. Ray pressed the button and lo! every Jack in the long row of boxes bobbed up with a grin and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. Such a row of grinning faces made the children laugh harder than ever. They walked into another room in the castle and found that it was filled with toys of all sorts and sizes. The smallest thing was a tiny rooster on a monkey’s back, and the largest toy was a great horse with a real saddle.

They passed through the toy-room and came to a great closet; its shelves had stacks of cakes, pies and goodies piled high in flaky abundance. All sorts of sweets that boys and girls love made the little mouths water. The next room they entered was filled with picture-books. In the center of this picture-book room stood an object that looked something like a street hand-organ. Over it was written in large letters these words:—

“MACHINE FOR RHYMES, TURN CRANK AND HAVE ONE.”

“I like rhymes,” said Dorothy, “let’s hear one.” Ray turned the crank and got the following:—

“Turn it again,” said Dorothy, “and we’ll have another.”

The next rhyme was this:—

“The poor little dog,” exclaimed Dorothy, “but he shouldn’t have teased the cow. Let me turn the handle this time, and see what I can get.”

Ray stepped aside, and when Dorothy took the handle she turned out the following:—

“That will do for jingles,” said Ray. “Suppose we look in some other room.” They left the picture-books and the machine for rhymes and walked to another door. A large sign over it read:—

“OFFICE OF SANTA CLAUS.
NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON BUSINESS.
THIS IS MY BUSY DAY.”

“He must be terribly busy,” said Ray, “we’d better not go in; he might not like it, you know.”

They turned away, and as they were a little tired of the castle they decided to go outside again. When their feet touched the sparkling snow Ray pointed to a hill a short distance away saying, “We will climb that hill and see the view.”

“All ready,” said Dorothy, and away they started.

As they were going up the hill Ray took up a handful of the snow and put it in his mouth. What do you suppose it was? Not snow at all, but ice-cream, a whole hill of it.

Of course they had to rest right then and there, so down they sat and refreshed themselves with as much ice-cream as they could eat.

“What a wonderful place Santa Claus Land is,” said Dorothy, “the ponds are candy, the trees all Christmas trees, and the hills made of ice-cream.”

“Well, you know,” said Ray, “Santa needs so much of everything because he has to supply the world.”

“This is the sweetest ice-cream I’ve ever tasted, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” answered Ray, “but I think I’ve had enough, haven’t you?”

“Ye-es,” assented Dorothy, taking one more delicious mouthful.

“Now let us climb to the top of the hill,” said Ray helping his little cousin to rise.

They reached the top of Ice-Cream hill and what do you think they found! A great! red! candy! double-runner!

“O!” said Ray clapping his hands, “let us get on it and coast down-hill.”

He got in front to steer, while Dorothy sat behind and held on with both hands. The double-runner started and away they went down Ice-Cream hill. When they reached the foot of the hill there was a candy pond (peppermint flavor) and right across the pond swift as a bird they sped to the other side. Here the screen girl was waiting to take them home.

Now comes the most wonderful part of this story.

On Christmas morning, when Dorothy and Ray went into the parlor, what do you suppose they saw? The very Christmas tree that they had seen away up in Santa Claus Land. The lovely doll on top was for Dorothy and the red sled “Dart” was for Ray.

CHAPTER XVII. A QUEER LITTLE STOREKEEPER.

“PLEASE may I have another piece of plum-cake?” asked Ray.

“No, dear,” answered Aunt Polly. “I am afraid you have had more than is good for you already.”

“Just one little, teeney, weeney piece,” pleaded Ray.

“No, dear, not any more to-day.”

When Aunt Polly said these last words in her firm, pleasant voice, Ray’s sunny face clouded. I am sorry to say that he pouted and did not look at all like the kind of boy he really was.

You must know that he was visiting dear Aunt Polly again, and he was very fond of her delicious plum-cake. But like many other little boys and a great many big ones he wanted more than was good for him, and Aunt Polly gently and wisely refused. I would not like to tell you how he hung his head, thrust his hands into his pocket and scuffled out of the room, because I do not like to draw disagreeable pictures. And yet, that is just what he did, and muttered to himself as he went, “stingy.”

Aunt Polly heard him, and looked very much hurt, but Ray did not seem to mind. He walked out of the house, into the beautiful June sunlight and wandered off, all by himself.

He had walked quite a distance before he decided to sit on the warm grass and rest a minute.

“When I’m a man, I’ll have all the plum-cake I want,” said Ray to himself, “and I shan’t be stingy like Aunt Polly.”

“Poor Aunt Polly!” whispered a wee voice in Ray’s ear.

Ray jumped to his feet to see who had spoken, but he could not see anybody.

“Who said ‘poor Aunt Polly’?” asked Ray, looking all around him. No one answered, so he sat on the grass again.

“Dear, good, kind Aunt Polly,” whispered the wee voice again. Once more Ray jumped to his feet but could not see the least sign of anybody.

All at once, as he looked around, he realized that he was in a strange place. He had wandered into Aunt Polly’s old-fashioned garden with its wealth of roses and its quaint beds of four-o’clocks and mignonette.

At least Ray supposed he was in her garden, but, as his eyes rested on the strange sight before him, he said to himself, “Surely this is not Aunt Polly’s beautiful garden.”

It looked dark and gloomy, and strangest of all, the flowers were all a peculiar shade of blue.

Ray walked to some rosebushes, and could scarcely believe his eyes, when he discovered great, blue roses.

“Who ever heard of a blue rose?” said Ray, stooping to smell of one.

There was not the least odor, and the little boy was disappointed.

“Old, blue roses,” muttered Ray. “I’d rather have red roses that scent the whole garden with their perfume.”

He tried some of the other flowers, and found the same story to be told of them. They were blue in color, and had not the slightest odor.

Ray walked all over the garden. He was getting very tired of the same blue shade to everything, when he happened to spy a narrow staircase, near the garden wall.

It led downward and Ray, without thinking, walked down the tiny stairs.

At the very end of the staircase he came to a small, iron door, which, like everything else, had a bluish tinge.

Ray opened the door and walked into a room that was fitted up with shelves and a grand show-case. It looked very much like a store.

In the center of the room sat a little old man, dressed in blue, with a queer, blue cap on the top of his head.

“Well, my boy, what can I do for you to-day,” asked the little blue man, jumping to his feet and making a low bow to Ray.

“Nothing, thank you,” said Ray, looking curiously around.

“Then you don’t care to buy,” said the little blue man, and it seemed to Ray that his whole appearance became a deeper blue, and he seemed disappointed.

“What have you to sell?” asked Ray.

“Manners,” answered the little man quickly.

“Manners!” repeated Ray, “how funny, I didn’t know that manners were for sale.”

“O yes, they are,” was the answer; “and some are very cheap indeed.”

“How much?” asked Ray, wondering.

“I have heard,” said the little blue man, “of people selling their manners for a piece of plum-cake.”

Ray was very quiet for several minutes, when he heard this. Suddenly he said, “Are the manners that you have to sell in those boxes?” (Ray pointed to the show-case, where several gaudy boxes stood in a row.)

“Yes,” replied the little storekeeper, “that is where I keep some of them.”

“And when people buy them, what do they do with them,” asked the boy.

“Well, my boy, they take them out of the boxes and put them on, very much as they do their clothes. These manners are very cheap, they are not the best kind, of course.”

“Where do you keep the best kind?” asked the child.

The little blue man’s face brightened. He walked behind the show-case and disappeared for a minute.

He returned with a very tiny box of no particular color. It was a sort of brownish green, but the shade was so quiet and restful to the eyes that one liked to look at it.

He held it before Ray and raised the lid. It was only for a second, but there was something so bright and beautiful in the tiny box that Ray’s eyes sparkled and he cried:

“O let me have this box—I’d like to buy these manners!”

The little blue man smiled and said:

“But this box contains good manners, and they are not for sale.”

Ray felt terribly disappointed. There was something so pleasing and altogether delightful about the little box that he wanted it very much.

“Are you quite sure that you don’t want any of these other boxes?” asked the little storekeeper.

“No, thank you,” replied Ray. “I don’t care for them, after seeing this little box of good manners.”

“I’m very glad to hear you say so,” said the blue man, “because I don’t get any profit from these boxes, and still I sell more of them in one week than I do of the other kind in a month.”

“I’d like to have the box of good manners,” said Ray, “but if it is not for sale I don’t see how I can get it.”

“I’ll tell you,” said the little man; “you can earn it. It is a fairy box, and can do the most wonderful things. I have known this little box to get into a boy’s pocket and thence into his very skin. It settles up near his heart in some good place and there it remains, bringing him all sorts of good fortune.”

Ray looked eagerly at the little box.

“Listen,” continued the little storekeeper, “and I’ll tell you a true story about this wonderful little box.”—

Once there was a little, ragged boy named Hans, so poor that his good mother could not afford to buy him shoes. All day long he trudged, weary and footsore, from door to door to sell mats that he braided from straw.

Sometimes people were kind and smiled at his bright little face, even though they could not buy the mats.

A smile made Hans happy for a whole day. Sometimes people did not buy, but they gave him a nice bowl of milk and a piece of bread.

This made Hans happy for two whole days. And sometimes people bought his mats and praised them as they put a piece of money in his honest brown hands.

This made Hans so very happy that he forgot about his poverty and his sore, bare feet, and he would run all the way home to give the money to his mother.

But one weary day, Hans wandered into a strange village to sell his mats, where the people were so poor that they could not afford a smile; so selfish that they would not give a hungry boy a drink of milk, and so mean that they would not look at his mats, although they were rich and lived in grand houses.

Poor little Hans turned homeward after a day of disappointments. He did not feel at all happy, and his poor, bare feet were very sore.

Just outside the village he met an old man carrying a heavy basket, who was so feeble that he had to stop every now and then to rest.

When Hans saw the old man he forgot all about himself and his sore bare feet.

“Let me help you, sir,” said Hans, and the old man was very thankful. Hans carried the basket for the feeble man until they reached a great castle.

The old man stopped at its gate and said:

“Thank you, boy, and here is a piece of gold for your trouble.”

Hans touched his faded cap and thanked the old man. Full of joy, he put the piece of gold in his pocket. It was more than he could earn in a whole year selling his mats.

“You see Hans had the little box of good manners very near his heart, and it brought him good fortune.

“Here is another story of the wonderful little box.”—

Once upon a time in a magnificent castle lived a princess. She was so beautiful that many kings and rich lords had sought her hand in marriage, but she had refused them all.

One day the Princess had a grand birthday party, and everybody, rich and poor, was invited. Many kings and rich lords came to do honor to the beautiful Princess.

There was beautiful music in the castle garden, and after a while the people took hands and began a merry dance.

The beautiful Princess, surrounded by lords and ladies, looked on, much pleased, while the good people enjoyed themselves.

All at once an old woman, who had been standing alone, watching the dancers, loosened the red handkerchief that she wore on her head. In an instant the wind blew it off and wafted it about till it fell at the very feet of the Princess.

Many lords and ladies had seen the old handkerchief, but not one of them attempted to pick it up. The beautiful Princess was just going to reach for it herself, when a certain great king saw the action and tossed the old woman’s handkerchief aside with his foot.

Just then a young man emerged from the crowd, and going straight to the place where the red handkerchief was hidden, said:

“Pardon me, Princess,” as he brushed aside her skirt. Taking up the old woman’s handkerchief as carefully as if it were made of the finest silk, he carried it to the owner. Bowing before the old woman, he said gently: “Allow me, madame, it is yours, I think.”

Many who had laughed in scorn at the poor woman’s loss now looked on in amazement.

When she thanked the young man, he bowed as politely as if it were the Princess, instead of a poor old woman.

The Princess (whose face flushed with pleasure when she saw the kindly act), inquired the name of the gallant young man.

“He has traveled from a distant country and is called the Prince of the Golden Heart,” said one.

“He is Prince of my heart,” said the Princess, and they were both happy ever after.

“The Prince, my boy, was a true gentleman, and he carried the magic box of good manners inside his skin.”

“O please tell me how I can earn it,” cried Ray, when the little blue man had finished.

“Well, let me think a minute,” said the little man.

“By the way, have you said or done anything to-day to hurt anybody’s feelings?”

Ray’s conscience began to pinch a little as he answered: “I’m afraid I was very rude to Aunt Polly. I wanted another piece of plum-cake, and when she refused I scuffled my feet and said ‘stingy.’”

“Dear, good, kind Aunt Polly,” said the little man in a wee voice, and then Ray knew who had whispered in his ear in the blue garden.

“Do you like blue roses?” asked the storekeeper.

“No, sir, I do not care for them,” replied Ray.

“Why?” asked the blue man.

“In the first place,” said Ray, “because they have no sweet perfume.”

“Ah!” said the little man, “that is also true of little children, who are rude and sell their good manners. They are like blue roses and have no perfume.”

“Now, Ray,” continued the queer little storekeeper, “who is it that always has a pleasant smile and a kind word for everybody?”

“Aunt Polly,” said Ray.

“Who is it that knits nice, warm mittens for a little boy called Ray.”

“Aunt Polly,” was the answer.

“Who is it makes the nicest plum-cake in the world and always gives some to a little boy called Ray.”

“Aunt Polly,” cried the boy.

“Who is it tells such delightful stories and has a heart so big that there is a little corner in it for every child in the wide world?”

“My Aunt Polly,” shouted Ray, jumping to his feet, “and I’m going to tell her how rude I’ve been and how sorry I am for behaving badly to the best auntie in the world.”

He started to run, but the little blue man cried out, “Wait a minute.”

The queer little storekeeper put the charming little box inside Ray’s pocket, who never stopped running until he reached Aunt Polly’s sitting-room.

He knocked gently and her cheery voice said, “Come in.”

Like a little gentleman Ray walked over to Aunt Polly and said: “I’m sorry, auntie, for having had such bad manners this morning. Will you forgive me for being so impolite?”

“Yes, dear,” said Aunt Polly with a kiss. And just then Ray felt so happy that he knew the little box had settled close to his heart.

CHAPTER XVIII. A PAIR OF OLD SHOES.

“LET’S cuddle up in the Talking Chair,” said Dorothy, one wet afternoon, “and perhaps we’ll hear a new story.”

“I’m ready,” cried Ray squeezing in beside his little cousin.

“You don’t look quite comfortable, children,” said Aunt Polly smiling. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” she continued, “let me sit in the Talking Chair; Dorothy can sit on my lap and Ray on the little hassock at my feet. Then perhaps the chair will whisper a new story to me.”

“I feel something tickling my ear now,” said Aunt Polly, when they were all settled, and she told this story about

A PAIR OF OLD SHOES.

Once upon a time in a far, northern country lived a little boy named Lars. His home was a rude cottage on the seashore, but it was a very happy one to Lars, because it contained all that he loved—his good father, who was a great fisherman, and his thrifty mother who knitted his warm socks.

Day after day Lars watched the great ocean and sailed tiny ships on its blue surface. He played hide-and-seek among the rocks and listened to the cry of the sea-birds in their flight.

He held beautiful shells close to his ear to hear the sound of breakers imprisoned there by sea-fairies and every delight that a fisher-boy loves was known to Lars.

Among other things that he liked to do was this:—he would take a small piece of wood and stretch fishing lines or twine of any kind from end to end, making a sort of rude fiddle.

Then he would play on the cords and enjoyed the sounds very much.

One day the father of Lars found an old violin that had been saved from a wrecked ship. He brought it home to his little boy, who danced with delight when he saw it. From that day Lars was a very busy boy. He sat on the rocks and played on the old violin, to his heart’s content.

He had listened to the sea-birds so long that he could make their cries out, and his ear was so acute that he could imitate the moaning of the north wind.

When Lars grew older his fame as a fiddler had spread among the fisher-folk far and wide.

He played for them at every marriage feast and merry-making, and the good people rejoiced at his skill.

But his own people were very poor. His father was growing old and his mother’s busy fingers were not so active as they had been.

Lars told his dear violin that he wanted to do something to help them. He played the story on the old fiddle, one moonlight night until it dropped out of his hands and he fell fast asleep among the rocks, on the beach.

Then the mermaids came and whispered wonderful murmurs in his ear and sang of wealth and power beyond the ocean.

They touched his ears, kissed his hands and one tuned the cords of the old violin.

And Lars awoke a new being. He caught up his violin and hurried to the cottage to tell of his wonderful dream.

“And I’m going away,” said Lars, “far away to play for strange people, and perhaps I can earn some money for you, my father and mother.”

The day came that Lars was to start out into the great world. When he was ready his father and mother appeared with a pair of shoes for him. Lars was overjoyed.

He put on the shoes, and taking his old violin under his arm, bade his good parents farewell.

He had not walked very far, when he met an old woman, bent with age.

“Where are you going, son?” asked the old woman.

“To seek my fortune, good mother,” Lars answered.

“And prithee where did you get the shoes?” asked the dame.

“From my good parents,” was the reply.

“Ah!” said the old woman, “you will never know the struggle they have had. They did not send you out into the world barefooted. Never forget them, my son, and never part with the shoes—if you do your good fortune will depart forever.”

Then she disappeared and Lars continued his journey. He traveled in many strange cities. At first he played on the streets and the people passing by stopped to listen to the wonderful music. They filled his cap with pieces of money and wished him good fortune. After awhile men came to Lars and asked him to play in a great theater.

Crowds of people, rich and poor came to hear him. Lars played as never before. He was a little homesick, and instead of rows of strange faces in a grand theater he saw a group of fisher-folk near his own cottage.

He made music for them to dance, and the heart of the great audience before him bounded to the measure and their feet tingled to quaint steps. When his fisher-folk grew tired he played soft music for them; the swish of the tide lapping the rocks, the call of the sea-birds and the moaning of the north wind.

When he had finished, the great audience sat spellbound, while Lars shuffled off behind the stage. Then the people jumped to their feet. Men shouted, women wept; never had they heard such wonderful music.

Men gave Lars so much gold that he was dazzled and wondered what he would do with it all. But he did not forget the old folks, and a good part of his gold found its bright way to the cottage in the far northern country. If he did forget sometimes there was always the shoes to remind him, and Lars wore them constantly and lovingly.

Now it so happened that a certain rich woman heard of the wonderful genius of Lars.

She invited him to play in one of her numerous palaces and offered him more money than he had ever earned.

Lars played at her palace and was covered with new honors. Other wealthy people followed her example, invited Lars to their mansions and he found himself courted and admired on all sides.

At first he did not care for it at all, and went only because it brought him gold for the far-off cottage.

After awhile the smiles of rich men and the soft words of beautiful women became as precious to the great musician, as the gold.

Then he began to feel dissatisfied with himself. He thought less of the far-off cottage and more of the glittering palaces.

He began to find fault with everything connected with himself, and most of all with the pair of old shoes that his parents had given him.

One night he was going to play in the palace of a king. When he was all ready to start he happened to notice his shoes.

“They are old-fashioned,” said Lars, “and people will laugh at them.”

Poor, foolish Lars! He took them off and put them away in a corner. Then he encased his feet in very stylish shoes and went to the palace. But the new shoes, although very fine to look at, pinched his feet and made Lars feel awkward and uncomfortable.

The old shoes had always been so easy that they seemed a part of himself and he never knew he had them on. But with the new shoes it was all different. He could not keep his thoughts away from them, and the night he played before the king his mind was filled with the new shoes that pinched his feet, instead of his beloved music.

For the first time in his career Lars was a failure. Other failures followed, for the new shoes tried him sorely. As time went on people became disappointed. When he first came among them, they had found Lars charming because he was natural. That was the time he wore the old shoes. The people had never noticed these shoes that Lars wore with such ease and grace. Now they began to notice the new shoes. Men nudged each other and ladies smiled behind their fans.

One by one they dropped him out of their lives, and one morning Lars awoke to find himself quite alone and almost as poor as when he had left the northern cottage.

It was a long time since he had thought of the dear, northern cottage and a mighty longing came into his heart to see it.

It was a long time since he had seen the pair of old shoes. He remembered them now and he went to the corner where he had left them, but they had disappeared.

He searched for them everywhere, but they could not be found.

He traveled day and night, and reached the dear, northern cottage. It was empty. The pair of old shoes, dear old shoes that had been left in the corner so long had disappeared. A strange loneliness crept into the heart of Lars. He threw himself on the shore of the great ocean and cried himself to sleep.

The North-wind found him and kissed his cheek. She is a great, beautiful woman with long, flowing hair and she likes well Lars’ northern country.

At first Lars shivered at her touch, but it did not sting like the ridicule of the great world he had lived in.

After a while the kiss of the North-wind was a magic touch to Lars. He became a boy again. He nestled on the back of the North-wind and played with her flowing hair. He drew it in shining threads to his finger-tips and made music as he used to do on his old violin.

“What would you like to have more than all else in the world?” whispered the North-wind caressingly.

“The pair of old shoes,” murmured Lars.

The North-wind sighed, and rising in the air with Lars nestling among her tresses, swept over the house-tops, peeking down the chimneys and into cracks and crevices.

And on cold nights when little boys and girls are warm in bed, and they hear the North-wind go sweeping by, they must know that Little Lars is playing on her hair and sighing for “a pair of old shoes.”

CHAPTER XIX. JOCK O’ THE PIPES.

ONE summer afternoon the Talking Chair told the following story to Aunt Polly, who told it to Dorothy, who told it to me:—

Once upon a time in a bright country lived the most beautiful little queen in all the world. She was called Content, and while she reigned, there was great happiness among her people.

Indeed, they were so very happy that a certain wicked old woman who rides through the air on a broomstick grew very jealous.

She did not like to see anybody happy, so she began to plot and plan a way to get rid of Queen Content.

“If I could only drive her out of the hearts of these simple people all would be well,” said the old woman. Then she went about among the people doing all sorts of mischief; telling stories, spoiling their lovely gardens, and predicting all kinds of misfortune. But in spite of all her evil doings the people cherished Queen Content, and they scarcely noticed the wicked old woman.

At last she grew very angry. She took her old broom and swept great clouds of dust that filled the good people’s eyes, so that they could not see clearly at all. Then they became dissatisfied, and one day they sent their beautiful Queen away and put another in her place.

The new queen began her reign with a great flourish of trumpets. She was not beautiful at all, and was called Queen Discord.

She found fault with everything and was never at rest. Costly festivals, cruel wars, and foolish undertakings were all the time going on, and the people became poorer and more unhappy every day.

When the old woman on the broomstick saw this state of affairs, she laughed long and loud, and sailed away to do mischief elsewhere. In the meantime Queen Content had moved into a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. It contained only two rooms, but in the lovely Queen’s eyes it was as dear as any palace. The beautiful flower fields were her gardens and she rejoiced in the still walks of the green woods.

Sometimes rumors reached her of the doings of Queen Discord, but they never disturbed her peace of mind.

One dark night a traveler knocked at Queen Content’s door. He was a rollicking, roving merry lad, and his name was Jock.

When Queen Content opened the door Jock made a low bow, saying, “I have traveled far and am weary; may I enter your cottage?”

“Whoever knocks at my door may find rest. Enter and welcome,” was the answer.

Jock entered and Queen Content gave him a good supper. It was only bread and milk, to be sure, but no dainties at the table of a king ever tasted better. And although the bed that Jock slept on was made of straw, he had never rested so well in his life.

The next morning Jock continued his journey to the village. He had not been there very long when he discovered the true state of affairs.

He realized that the foolish people had put away the most beautiful queen in the world for the most disagreeable.

“I’m going to help these foolish people,” said Jock to himself, and he shook all over with merriment at the mere thought of doing them a good turn.

Straight he went to the palace of Queen Discord and begged an audience with her most obnoxious majesty.

“What do you want, good-for-nothing?” said the haughty Queen, frowning on Jock, who stood cap in hand with a quizzical look on his merry face.

“I have good news for your majesty,” said Jock with a grin.

“Good news!” thundered the horrid queen.

“It is against our laws. You shall be thrown into prison; we don’t want people who go about telling good news.”

Jock’s grin broadened, but he saw his mistake and quickly added: “Ah! your majesty, I have just traveled through your uncle’s kingdom—King Hate—and I found nothing there but strife and confusion and bitterness of spirit. Your people are so much happier that I was only going to remind you of the fact. Surely that is good news.”

When Jock made this little speech the Queen’s eyes (they were great, green jealous eyes) flashed, but she was silent for a moment.

“Strife, confusion, and bitterness of spirit.” The words were sweet as honey to Queen Discord’s taste, and she repeated them over and over to herself. They are just what I want, thought the queen, and she regarded Jock with great interest, saying:

“Tell me how to stir up strife, confusion and bitterness of spirit in this old kingdom and your reward shall be great.”

“I know that it will,” thought Jock grinning all over. Aloud he said, “Give me three days and I’ll return with something that will surely please your most sea-green majesty.”

So saying he almost doubled in two with laughter, and tossing his bright cap into the air, left the presence of the frowning queen.

Straight to the heart of the merry green woods ran Jock. He played leap-frog with elves and danced with wood-nymphs. They all loved him because he was so merry, and he feared no one because his heart was innocent as that of a little child.

By and by Jock told about his conversation with Queen Discord, and when he had finished such a merry shout went up from every elf, wood-nymph and fairy that the very leaves shook and an acorn fell to the ground.

“Now you must help me,” said Jock; “you must tell me, good friends, what to do.”

“’Tis the pipes, ’tis the pipes that you want,” said a jolly elf, “that is the remedy for Queen Discord.”

Then they all whispered something in Jock’s ear, which made him shake all over with mirth. Every elf, wood-nymph and fairy had a little secret for him, and they told it so softly that even a gray squirrel who listened with all his might could not hear.

When they had told the secret they were merrier than ever. They all took hands and with Jock in the middle, danced a jolly ring around him.

“Jock o’ the pipes, Jock o’ the pipes,” sang the merry elves, as they tripped round and round, stopping now and then to whisper some new idea. Jock laughed himself to sleep. Then the fairies left him.

When Jock awoke, he rubbed his eyes and looked around him. His late adventure was still fresh in his mind and he laughed aloud. Just then he spied a small bag made of skin, on the ground at his feet.

“I know what that is for,” said Jock with a broad grin. He recalled the secrets that the merry elves had whispered.

Jock slung the bag across his shoulder and away he ran out of the woods with peals of laughter waiting on his steps.

He traveled fast and at moonlight stood near a fence in a big city laughing softly to himself.

Suddenly strange sounds filled the still air.

Jock looked up and beheld a band of cats on the fence. At first he thought they were merely giving a concert to the good people of the neighborhood, but very soon he saw his mistake.

As he looked they began to slap each other right in the face, with uplifted paws and spat at each other with angry jaws. Suddenly a battered, yellow, one-eyed, tailless Tommy got his back up about something and cried like a baby. His granddaughter rebuked him with a gentle scratch. Then there was a rush, and instead of thirty-two cats in a line there were thirty-two cats in a ball. And it wasn’t football either.

There were howls, shrieks, moans, and cat-calls. In the very midst of it all Jock opened his bag.

In the twinkling of an eye the fighting cats dropped into the bag, which shut up tight again, and Jock continued his journey.

But he was laughing so hard that he had to stand a moment to recover himself.

A little farther on he heard loud barking.

“’Tis the watch-dog’s honest bark,” quoted Jock; but just then he heard a terrible uproar and he realized his mistake.

He came upon a crowd of snapping, snarling, barking curs. He listened to their disputes for three minutes. “Ha-a, now I see,” said Jock with a chuckle; “these dogs, that I supposed were honest watch-dogs, are all politicians. ’Tis a meeting of their common council.”

Just then the chairman gave a fierce bark, whereupon all the others howled in concert and made a spring for the chairman’s collar. When the dismal yells were at the very worst Jock opened his bag. In a second every barking, snapping, snarling dog went head first into it. Not another sound out of them. Jock laughed heartily and hurried on.

You must not forget, little reader, that it was a fairy bag, and no matter how much went into it, it did not get an inch larger or an ounce heavier. In his path Jock met many other occupants for his bag. A scolding wife, a grouty husband, a croaking gossip all found their way into the wonderful bag, and after each addition Jock was merrier than ever.

He passed a church and heard music.

“That’s in my line,” said Jock with a grin, and he stole softly into the choir. The female soprano had the floor and the ceiling too, while a long-suffering congregation tried not to look grieved.

Just as she reached a top note with a shivering little curleycue attached, Jock saw a nervous brother clutch his seat and a sympathetic sister gasp. That note had been issued just thirty-seven years and Jock had come to collect it. The little bag opened and plumb into it went the shrieking soprano.

It was several minutes before Jock recovered from the fit of merriment that followed the last disappearance. Then he went on.

In the meantime he bagged the piano next door, the cornet across the street, the concertina up-stairs and a few other simple but effective species, including, “dot leetle German band.”

“It is useless, I cannot go another step until I have had my laugh out,” said Jock as he sat himself down on the steps of a great building and shook all over for a good ten minutes.

In the midst of his hilarity, he heard a voice. It jarred him. “That’s a school marm addressing her pupils,” quoth Jock. For a second he made a wry face, then his eyes twinkled, and he arose and stole into the school-room, hiding behind a great globe.

The teacher had forgotten how to talk in natural tones and was yelling in an A sharp and D flat voice.

“The poor children,” sighed Jock, looking serious for one second. Then he grinned, opened the bag and the unnatural tones vanished right into it.

Continuing his journey he caught “Annie Ould R-r-rags” and all her relations.

Suddenly Jock found himself in a western city and was delighted to hear that a meeting of birds was in progress, for the elation and elevation of their sex (they were all ladies, by the way). Jock loved the ladies, so he stole softly in to their meeting. But oh, what a shock did little Jock get! The birds were having a terrible battle with their tongues and Jock was so surprised that he even forgot about his bag.

It was all on account of a poor little bird who wanted to attend the meeting and would not be permitted to. And why? Because she was black and the other birds were white (outside).

“But I thought this meeting was good of all birds,” ventured one fair-minded little creature. Whereupon there was a storm of wrath and scorn. This brought Jock to his senses. Cautious, as a good fisherman, for birds have wings, Jock opened his bag, and every unjust, discordant vibration was swallowed up.

“I’m a bit weary now,” said Jock with a chuckle, “so I’ll return without looking farther.”

So saying, he hurried along and stopped up his ears, so that he would not hear any more discord.

That night Jock slept in the merry green woods with the fairy bag for a pillow.

The elves came when he was dreaming and examined the contents of the bag.

“It will do very well,” said a jolly elf, and he attached two tiny pipes to the top of Jock’s bag.

The elves reveled all night and whispered new secrets in Jock’s ear. When the first streak of dawn came through the trees they hurried away to fairyland, but not before the jolly elf dropped a small chain at Jock’s feet.

Bright and smiling Jock awoke.

“It is the third day,” sang Jock as he washed his merry face in a buttercup of dew.

“Now I must hurry to the Castle,” said he, stooping to pick up his bag.

All at once he noticed the pipes, which made him shake all over with mirth.

“It looks for all the world like bagpipes now,” cried Jock, “and maybe it is a new kind.”

Then he spied the chain, which he slipped into his pocket.

“O that jolly elf, he never forgets anything,” said Jock, and just then some merry recollection of the jolly elf flashed into Jock’s mind and he rolled over and over with laughter.

Suddenly he jumped to his feet, took up his pipes and was soon out of the woods.

When he reached the castle he found Queen Discord on her throne, surrounded by a host of unwilling followers.

Jock approached the throne, bowed low and said: “’Tis the pipes, ’tis the pipes that you want. That is the remedy for Queen Discord.” So saying he slipped the chain out of his pocket and presented it to the Queen, who immediately fastened it around her neck. Quick as a flash Jock’s deft fingers attached the chain to the pipes.

Queen Discord arose from her throne and began to speak. But horrors! no sooner did she open her mouth than the pipes began to play—and you know what was in that bag. The most awful, horrid, harsh, discordant sounds rent the air and the people fled in terror.

When Queen Discord saw the effect of the pipes, she tried to pull them off. But they were fastened around her neck by a fairy chain and no mortal power could remove them. She hurried from the throne and ran out of the castle, the awful pipes playing all the time.

Women and children ran from her in horror, but a crowd of angry men with sticks and stones chased her out of the village.

On and on ran Queen Discord, making nature groan with her horrid pipes. At last she was out of hearing and the people never saw her again. In a few days they restored beautiful Queen Content and were once more happy.

One summer evening many years later a traveler came to Queen Content’s country. He had traveled far and was weary, but he stopped to listen to the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

It was Queen Content’s Symphony Orchestra playing on the Green.

Do you know, little reader, what a symphony orchestra is? No? Then ask papa and mamma. If you live in Boston they will tell you about delightful Saturday evenings in winter, when they go to a concert. Or better still ask big sister. Watch her face light up as she tells you about “dreamy” Friday afternoons; her “magnificent” conductor, the “perfectly exquisite” first violin, etc., etc.

The adjectives are big sister’s—not mine.

Well, dear, in Queen Content’s country, love was the leader of the symphony orchestra, and he was assisted by faith, hope, peace, industry, thrift, health and many other players.

The traveler watched a band of laughing children on the green and the sounds of the beautiful orchestra gladdened his ears.

He closed his tired eyes and fell asleep. Queen Content found the traveler on her way and kissed his bonny face. It was Jock o’ the Pipes.

CHAPTER XX. THE PROFESSOR’S SPECTACLES.

MY dear little readers, I have told you about dear Aunt Polly, who was so kind to Ray and Dorothy, but I have not said a word about their Uncle John Philip.

Uncle John Philip was a very learned professor. He lived in a great, gloomy house that was filled with queer-looking specimens from all parts of the world.

There were cabinets, the shelves of which contained stones of every variety, besides queer-looking stuffed birds and animals.

There were great, thick volumes on his library shelves, and strange maps and charts on the walls. It was very seldom that the children went to visit Uncle John Philip, but whenever they did they were so awed by all the strange sights in the lonely house that they were always glad to go home.

One night there was a fire and the professor’s house with all its strange furniture was totally destroyed. Then Uncle John Philip came to live at Dorothy May’s for awhile, and she became better acquainted with the great professor.

Now it so happened that Uncle John Philip, though a very wise professor, was a very foolish uncle.

He had studied and could explain many wonderful laws of nature, but he did not understand the heart of a little child.

One day when dear little Dorothy was asking him about the man in the moon he said, “Tut, tut, child, uninhabitable, no water, no atmosphere.”

Dorothy did not understand in the least what he meant, but she said:

“Don’t you like Mother Goose, where the cow jumped over the moon?”

“Cow, sea-cow, that reminds me,” cried Uncle John Philip, and he darted into his study. Dorothy did not see him again until supper.

But she did not give up hopes, and the very next day she asked him for a fairy story.

“Fairies, nonsense,” said the great professor, “there are no fairies.”

“O uncle,” cried Dorothy in grieved surprise, “how can you say that? Aunt Polly says there are, and besides it tells all about them in my Santa Claus book.”

“Tut, tut, tut,” said the wise professor.

“But, uncle dear, don’t you love dear old Santa Claus and Mother Goose?” pleaded the wistful voice.

“Rubbish, romance,” muttered the learned man.

Dorothy waited to hear no more. She ran out of the room, and never stopped until she reached her own little playroom. She felt terribly disappointed.

“My uncle doesn’t believe in the lovely fairies,” sighed poor little Dorothy, “he’ll never have nice times, will he, Susan Ida?”

The doll thus addressed, stared in blank amazement, and Dorothy somehow felt better for Susan Ida’s sympathy.

Just then from the window in her playroom Dorothy saw her uncle go down the steps and out of the house. She watched his tall, slightly bent form until it was out of sight.

She left the playroom and roamed all over the house. As she walked through the hall, she saw Uncle John Philip’s study door partly open. At first she just took a peek, then she walked into his study.

The first thing she noticed was that he had left his great spectacles on the desk.

“He’s forgotten his glasses,” said Dorothy, and her first impulse was to run after Uncle John Philip and return them.

But he was probably out of sight so Dorothy decided to keep them for him.

“What a dear little star-fish!” said Dorothy, as her eyes fell on a small one, lying on a shelf.

Dorothy had gathered star-fishes and sea-urchins in the summer, among the rocks at the seashore, and she knew all about them.

“I’ll put on Uncle John Philip’s glasses,” said the child, “and make believe I’m a professor.”

I’m afraid the frolicsome fairies were playing a trick on Dorothy, because no sooner did she put on the professor’s spectacles, than the most wonderful change occurred.

The pretty little star-fish assumed the proportions of a gigantic octopus, and Dorothy was so frightened that she quickly took off the glasses, and stared in wonder.

“O,” cried the child, “what a dreadful-looking thing!” and she backed away as far as possible from the harmless little star-fish.

“It’s only a star-fish,” cried Dorothy to reassure herself, and once more put on the glasses. Again the dreadful octopus was before her and off came the glasses with a jump.

Just then she spied a bottle filled with water on a table. “That’s nothing but a bottle of water,” said the little girl, “I’m not afraid of that,” and again she clapped on the professor’s spectacles.

But horrors! as Dorothy looked through the glasses, the bottle became as large as a tub and right in the center was a strange, black monster, with two eyes and a tail swimming around.

The glasses were pulled off in a second and poor little Dorothy began to cry.

“Now I know why uncle doesn’t believe in the beautiful fairies,” cried the child, “it’s all on account of these horrid spectacles—they make him see dreadful things.”

She ran out of the study and down the steps to the garden still holding the professor’s glasses.

“I’m glad I’m out of that terrible room, it’s just filled with monsters, I’m not afraid out here,” said Dorothy seating herself on a rustic bench. Now it so happened that a certain, plump caterpillar was taking a walk across that very bench and Dorothy happened to see him. On went the spectacles and up jumped Dorothy. The little caterpillar had turned into a brown, furry snake and Dorothy ran for her life.

She tried to take off the glasses, but they would not come, and she walked quickly on.

Some daisies that grew near by looked like immense sunflowers, and their beautiful white petals were swarming with black bugs.

Suddenly she came upon a gray, maltese monster, curled up asleep in a corner of the garden. Of course it was Chuff, her own pussy, but she never recognized him and ran on more frightened than ever.

A cow dozing near a hedge became a red horned monster and Dorothy fled in terror.

Suddenly a giant appeared in the path before her. He was looking on the ground to the right and left and never saw Dorothy, who ran behind some bushes, almost frightened out of her wits.

As he came near the bushes where Dorothy was hiding she recognized Uncle John Philip, but she was so thoroughly frightened since he had turned into a giant that she dared not call or make her presence known.

When he had passed she emerged from the bushes and ran into the woods.

At last thoroughly tired she threw herself on the ground, under a great oak tree and cried herself to sleep with the professor’s spectacles on her dear little nose.

When Dorothy was fast asleep the good fairies removed the spectacles and put them in her lap. They felt so sorry to think that Dorothy had looked through the ugly glasses that they kissed her pretty eyelids and whispered beautiful dreams in her little pink ears.

They placed her on a swing, made of a single, silver spider thread, suspended between two trees, and Dorothy swung her little feet while the fairies sang:

The song was followed by a merry dance, and Dorothy watched the fairies with delight.

All at once as the fairies danced a strange footstep was heard approaching. In the twinkling of an eye, every fairy disappeared, Dorothy’s silver swing broke in the middle, and she found herself under the oak tree, with the professor’s spectacles in her lap.

She looked up and there stood Uncle John Philip looking down at her, a puzzled smile on his face.

“My dear child,” said the professor, “how did you get here and what are you doing with my spectacles?”

Dorothy looked at the glasses in her lap and two big tears rolled down her cheek.

She began to cry bitterly, and Uncle John Philip sat beside his little niece and tried to comfort her.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, my dear!” said the great man over and over.

“O Uncle John Philip,” sobbed the little girl, “I know why you don’t believe in the beautiful fairies. It’s all on account of these horrid spectacles.”

Then she told him all about her adventure in his study and questioned him between sobs and tears.

“That dear little star-fish isn’t a great creepy thing is it, uncle?”

“No dear, no dear, no dear!” declared the professor.

“And you don’t keep black monsters in bottles of water, now, do you, uncle?”

“No, no, no, no!” cried the great man.

“You’re not a wicked giant and you do believe in fairies, don’t you, uncle?”

“Surely, surely, I do, I do.”

“Mother Goose isn’t rubbish, is she?” pleaded Dorothy.

“Never,” declared Uncle John. “Mother Goose is a luxury—a positive luxury, my dear.”

“And Santa, dear old Santa, he’s good, too, isn’t he?” coaxed the child.

“A necessity, my pet, a real necessity, splendid fellow!” exclaimed the man.

“O, I’m so glad to hear you say so,” cried Dorothy, and she cuddled up closer to the great professor and put her little hands confidingly in his.

“There is a man in the moon?” questioned Dorothy suddenly.

“There is, there is, my pet,” cried Uncle John Philip, “and a lady too, and baby stars, and—and all that sort of thing, my dear.”

“O, goody, do tell me about it!” cried Dorothy.

Uncle John Philip smiled at the eager little face that looked into his, full of confidence.

The touch of childish hands sent a thrill through the great professor. He felt twenty years younger, and forty years happier.

A strange something crept into his heart and stole up to his busy brain. Something was at work brushing away dusty old facts, and underneath them all bright fancies made themselves known.

Uncle John Philip, the great professor began to half sing and partly recite a song about the moon.

“There now,” said Uncle John Philip, “there’s a song about the lady, and some time I’ll tell you the most wonderful fairy story you ever heard.”

“You are the best uncle in the world,” said Dorothy, now smiling and happy.

“Here are your spectacles. I don’t believe they’ll ever make you see dreadful things again.”

“Dorothy, child,” said the wise man, “my spectacles were blurred and dim, but they have been washed in the tears of a little child, and henceforth I shall see better.”

THE END.