“DO YOU all know what day this is?” asked Gogo, as he stopped at the
laundry door and looked mournfully in at the Chinaman, who was singing
loudly as he rubbed a tiny shirt up and down his wash board.
[‡Illustration: Boy with thimble]
“Why allee same it Fliday,” answered the Chinaman. “Yes sir,” said the
little colored Teenie Weenie sadly, “it’s mo’ than just Friday. It’s
Friday the thirteenth.”
“Allee same what difference?” asked the Chinaman.
“When Friday comes on the thirteenth of the month it’s mighty unlucky,”
answered Gogo, with a most serious expression on his black little face.
“You all better look out, ’cause somethin’ always happens that is
powerful unlucky on a day like this.”
“Nothing happen unlucky to me,” cried the Chinaman. “Me vely happy. Me
gottee clistern full of water and me gottee lottee wash to do, so me too
busy to be unlucky,” and the little chap began washing all the harder.
“Well just you remembah that I-all told you it was unlucky. I just
wanted to wa’n you, dat’s all,” and Gogo mournfully made his way to the
Lovers’ bungalow, where he left much advice to Mr. and Mrs. Lover.
Gogo spent most of the morning explaining that it was Friday the
thirteenth, and he warned each and every Teenie Weenie that it was a
most unlucky day.
“Well Gogo,” said the General, when the little people sat down to their
noonday meal, “has anything unlucky happened yet?”
“No sir, not yet,” answered the little fellow, “but there’s plenty of
time yet for somethin’ to happen. Just you wait and see.”
“General,” said the Cook, popping his head through the kitchen door,
“there isn’t a bit of sugar in the house. Every last speck has been used
and we haven’t a grain.”
“Great pinhead!” exclaimed the General, “that’s terrible. We can’t get
along without sugar.”
“Didn’t I-all tell you dat this was a unlucky day,” cried Gogo, looking
around at his friends.
“Well it certainly is unlucky if we haven’t any sugar in the house,”
cried the Dunce, who had a large sweet tooth.
“After dinner I’ll see what we can do, Cook,” said the General. “We
certainly must have some sugar.”
The Teenie Weenies made their own sugar from the sap of the maple tree,
or from the blossoms of sweet clover, but the frost had stopped the flow
of the maple sap and the little folks had only been able to make a small
amount of sugar.
“It will be quite a spell before we can make sugar out of the sweet
clover blossoms,” said the Old Soldier, “and we will have to get sugar
some other way.”
That afternoon the General ordered the Teenie Weenies to go out in
search of sugar. “But mind,” warned the General, “I don’t want any one
to take sugar from the big houses unless you see that it is going to
waste.”
All afternoon the little people searched about the big house, but not
one bit of sugar could they find, and as it was growing dark, it began
to look as though the Teenie Weenie sugar bowl would be empty that night
at supper.
“Dat’s all on account of Friday the thirteenth,” moaned Gogo. “Dis is
suttinly a most unlucky day.”
“G-G-General, G-G-G-General,” gasped the Dunce as he dashed into the
Teenie Weenie sitting room, “Jimminie f-f-f-fishhooks! I found a great
big lot of sugar!”
“Where?” asked the excited Teenie Weenies.
“Well,” said the Dunce, “I was hurrying along the walk over by the big
fence and I saw a little boy stub his toe and fall down. When he got up
and went away I went over where he had fallen and I found a bag of
sugar. He dropped it when he fell and it was spilled over the sidewalk.”
“Didn’t he try and pick it up?” asked the Doctor.
“N-N-N-No,” answered the Dunce. “He just got up and went on his way.”
“Well we certainly can’t let that sugar lie there and spoil,” smiled the
General, and he ordered the Teenie Weenies to rescue as much of the
sugar as possible.
[‡Illustration: Rescue as much of the sugar as possible.]
Taking shovels and thimbles the little folks hurried to the bag of
sugar, where they set to work carrying it to their store house.
They worked until it was quite dark and when the last bit of sugar which
could be saved had been carried to the store room, it filled an old
teacup.
It took eighty-four thimblefuls to fill the cup and the Cook announced
that it would be quite enough to last the little family through the
canning season.
“Well Gogo,” said the Old Soldier, as the little people sat around the
tiny fire place after dinner, “considerin’ that cupful of sugar we found
today, Friday the thirteenth hasn’t proved so very unlucky.”
“N-N-N-No, taint,” answered the little fellow sadly, “but it’s been
mighty unlucky for that little boy that stubbed his toe, just the same.”
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