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All About Johnnie Jones
[Illustration: Johnnie Jones]
_All About_ JOHNNIE JONES
BY
Carolyn Verhoeff
ILLUSTRATED BY
Diantha W. Horne
SEVENTH EDITION
* * * * *
_Published by_
Milton Bradley Company
SPRINGFIELD :: MASSACHUSETTS
Copyright, 1907, by
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
In Loving Memory
_of_
_The_ Beautiful Life _of One_ Little Child
=Meldrum Adams Hartwell=
(1891-1896)
These Stories are Dedicated
_to_
All Little Children
* * * * *
These stories have been written with but one object, to give
pleasure to little children, while helping them to realize,
in so far as they are able, the highest ideals of childhood.
CAROLYN VERHOEFF
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION
It gives me sincere pleasure to introduce to mothers and kindergartners
a pioneer writer in the unexplored field of simple, realistic stories
for little children.
Miss Verhoeff is a trained kindergartner who has brought to her
profession a college training as well as a true devotion to children.
It was in one of the free kindergartens situated in the less fortunate
localities of Louisville that the stories of Johnnie Jones came into
being, and grew in response to the demand of the little ones for
stories about real children.
In the beautiful world of fairy-lore we have a rich and splendidly
exploited field of immortal literature. The old, old stories of
fairies and elves, of giants and dwarfs, of genii, princes, and knights
with their wonder-working wands, rings and swords, will never grow
threadbare; while the spiritual, artistic and literary value of these
stories in the life of child-imagination can never be overestimated.
Enchanting and valuable as they are, however, they should not blind us
to the need for standard realistic stories of equal literary and poetic
merit.
A child needs not only the touch of the wonder-working wand which
transports him to a land of fascinating unrealities, but also the
artistic story which reflects the every-day experiences of real life;
artistic in that it touches these daily experiences with an idealism
revealing the significance and beauty of that which the jaded taste of
the adult designates as "commonplace." That all children crave the story
which is, or might be, true is evidenced by the expression of their
faces when their inevitable question, "is it really true?" or "did it
really happen?" is answered in the affirmative.
Perhaps some of us can recall the pleasure derived from old-fashioned
school readers of an earlier day. With all their faults they at least
did not overlook the value of standard realistic stories. In these
readers was found the very moral story of the boy who won the day
because of his forethought in providing an extra piece of whipcord.
There was also "Meddlesome Matty," and the honest office-boy, the heroic
lad of Holland, and the story of the newly liberated prisoner who bought
a cage full of captive birds and set them free. These and many others
still persist in memory, and point with unerring aim to standards of
human behavior under conditions which are both possible and probable.
In spite of their imperfections and stern morality these stories were
valuable because they recited the fundamental events of human and animal
existence, in relations which revealed the inevitable law of cause and
effect, and the ethical and poetic significance of man's relation to
all life.
As soon as children begin to realize the distinction between the
world of make-believe and the world of actuality, or, as one small boy
expressed it, "what I can see with my eyes shut, and what I can see when
I open them," they are fascinated with stories of real life, of "when
Father was a little boy," or "when Mother was a little girl," or "when
you were a tiny baby." This demand of the child for realistic stories
is the expression of a real want which should be satisfied with good
literature.
Before children are enabled by their experience to discriminate between
the imaginary and the actual world, they make no distinction between the
story of real life and the fairy tale. During this early period a story
relating the most ordinary events of every-day life is accepted in the
same spirit, and may provoke as much or as little wonder, as the story
dealing with the most marvelous happenings of the supernatural world.
For to the child at this stage of development it is no more wonderful
that trees and animals should converse in the language of men than that
a little boy should do so. Until children learn that, as a matter of
fact, plants and animals do not participate in all of the human
activities, they regard as perfectly natural stories in which such
participation is taken for granted. On the other hand a realistic story
representing some of the most universal aspects of human existence may
provoke surprise as the child discovers that his own experiences are
common to many other lives and homes. This was evidenced by the remark
of a small boy who, at the end of a story relating the necessary
sequence of activities common to the countless thousands of heroic
mothers, washing and ironing the family linen, waggishly shook his
finger at the narrator, and with a beaming smile, said: "Now you know
that it is _my_ Ma and Tootsie you are telling about!" John had not
discovered the fact that the story which reflected the daily service of
his beloved mother reflected equally well the service of thousands of
other mothers. He saw only the personal experience in the common reality
and recognized it with joy. When through similar stories of daily life a
child learns to know that his experiences constitute the common lot, his
first feeling of surprise gives place to a greater joy, and sympathy is
born.
The stories of Johnnie Jones were not premeditated but grew in response
to daily requests for "more about Johnnie Jones." They are the record of
a most ordinary little boy, good as can be to-day, forgetting to obey
to-morrow; a life history in which many other little lives are reflected
in the old, old process of helping the child to adapt himself to the
standards of society.
The ideal has been to deal with the ordinary events of daily life in a
manner which will reveal their normal values to the child. There is the
friendly policeman who finds the lost boy; the heroic fireman who comes
to the rescue of the burning home; the little neighbor who would not
play "fair;" the little boy who had to learn to roll his hoop, and to
care for the typical baby brother who pulled his hair; there are the
animals who entered into the joys and sorrows of the Jones
family,--altogether, very real animals, children, and "grown-ups,"
learning in common the lessons of social life.
The moral throughout is very pointed, and may be considered too obvious
by many kindergartners, who do not feel the need of such insistence in
their work. Mothers, however, with normal four-year-old boys who are
likely to follow the music down the street and get lost, or who are
equally liable to fall in the pond because they forget to obey Father,
will find a strange necessity for pointing the moral in no uncertain
tone.
The stories are so arranged that they may be read singly or as a serial.
I am sure the author will feel more than repaid if this little
collection paves the way for more and better standard stories of
reality, that our little children may not only revel in the events of a
delightfully impossible world, but may also feel the thrill of heroism
and poetry bound up in the common service of mother and father, of
servants and neighbors, and find the threads of gold which may be woven
into the warp and woof of daily intercourse with other little children
who possess a common stock of privileges and duties, joys and sorrows.
PATTY SMITH HILL.
Louisville, Kentucky.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
Page
Johnnie Jones and the Cookie 21
When Johnnie Jones Was Lost 26
Mother's Story of the Princess and Her Pigeon 33
Johnnie Jones and the Squirrel 43
Johnnie Jones and the Peach Preserves 49
How the Children Helped Tom and Sarah 56
Johnnie Jones's Story of the Stars 63
Johnnie Jones and Jack 67
Stiggins 82
When Johnnie Jones Was a Santa Claus 87
An Original Valentine 97
When Johnnie Jones Was a Cry-Baby 105
Johnnie Jones and the Man Who Cried "Wolf" Too Often 113
Johnnie Jones's Birthday Party 119
Mother's Story of the Spring: The Sleeping Beauty 127
Johnnie Jones and the Butterfly 134
Mr. and Mrs. Bird and the Baby Birds 142
The Coming of Little Brother 151
Little Brother and Johnnie Jones 156
Elizabeth With the Children 161
Johnnie Jones and the Hoop-Rolling Club 168
The Fire at Johnnie Jones's House 175
Johnnie Jones and Fanny 182
Fanny and Little Brother 188
When Johnnie Jones Learned to Swim 193
* * * * *
INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Johnnie Jones
Max wagged his tail and began to trot home--
Such a merry time as the children had!
Each child came up and shook Jack's paw--
When he spread his wings and flew away--
Then Johnnie Jones was the proudest, happiest little boy--
The little brown pony would eat out of their hands
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and the Cookie
One day, when Johnnie Jones was a wee little boy, only three years old,
Mother came home from down town. Johnnie Jones ran to meet her. "Mother
dear, didn't you bring me something?" he asked.
"Yes, indeed," answered Mother, and she gave him something tied up in a
paper bag. "Be careful," she told him, "or it will break."
So Johnnie Jones was careful as he untied the string and opened the bag.
When he saw what was inside he was glad he had not broken it, for it was
a round yellow cookie with a hole in the centre.
"Thank you, Mother," said Johnnie Jones, and he rolled on his back and
kicked up his heels, which meant that he was happy. Then he sat up and
began to eat his cookie. It was very good, and tasted as if it had
molasses in it, Johnnie Jones said. But by and by, after he had been
taking a great many bites, there wasn't any of the cookie left in his
hand, because he had eaten it, every bit. Johnnie Jones looked at his
hand where the cookie had been, and then he began to cry.
"Oh, dear me," exclaimed Mother, "what is troubling my little boy?"
"I want my cookie," cried Johnnie Jones.
"Where is your cookie?" asked Mother.
"I ate it," said Johnnie Jones.
"If you have eaten it, then it is all gone," Mother told him.
"But I want it! I want my cookie!" wailed Johnnie Jones.
"To-morrow I'll buy you another just like it," Mother promised.
"I don't want another just like it, I want my own cookie with a hole in
the middle," and the tears came faster and faster.
"But, little boy," Mother said, "nobody in all the world, nor Father nor
Mother nor Johnnie Jones, can eat a cookie and yet have it."
Johnnie Jones continued to cry, so Mother brought him some brown paper,
a pair of scissors, and a pencil.
"See here, dear," she said, "I can't give you the cookie you ate, but
you may make a picture that will look very much like it."
Then Johnnie Jones ceased crying, and Mother showed him how to fold and
cut the paper until it was like the cookie, with a hole in the centre.
They pasted it on cardboard and placed it upon the mantel.
"Thank you, Mother," said Johnnie Jones, "but I don't like it so well as
my real cookie because I can't eat it."
"If you could eat it," Mother answered, "it would soon be gone, so the
picture is better unless you are hungry."
And Johnnie Jones thought so too.
After that day he never again cried for a cookie when he had eaten it,
nor for a toy when he had destroyed it, because he had discovered that
crying could never bring back what was gone.
* * * * *
When Johnnie Jones Was Lost
Johnnie Jones was lost, completely lost. He looked up the street, he
looked down the street, and then he looked across the street, but not
one of the houses was his home. Johnnie Jones did not like being lost.
He had not seen his mother for a very long time, not since she had left
him in the yard at play after they had returned from market. He had been
swinging on the front gate, when, suddenly, he heard the sound of music,
and saw several people running down the street.
"Everyone must have forgotten to tell me that there was a circus," he
said to himself. "I think I had better go see."
Now Johnnie Jones was never allowed to leave the yard unless an older
person was with him, but he did not think of that, as he opened the gate
and ran out on the street to follow the gathering crowd.
When he reached the first corner everyone was hurrying on to the next,
and Johnnie Jones hurried on, too. Of course, however, he could not run
as fast as older people, and very soon he was passed by the crowd. Then,
when he could no longer hear the music, he looked about him and knew
that he was lost.
He was sorry that he had gone away from home. He thought it must be
about lunch time and he was very hungry. Then he remembered that this
was the day Mother had promised to take him to the park. He would have
cried, had he not been a brave little lad, and had he not known that a
boy almost four is too old to cry, unless he is actually hurt.
He sat down on the curbstone, and wished and wished that some one would
come to find him.
After a while he saw a policeman coming towards him from across the
street. He was a very tall policeman, but Johnnie Jones decided to speak
to him. His mother had often told him that policemen always take care of
people, and help them whenever they can. So he tipped his hat politely,
and said, "Please, Mr. Policeman, will you find me? Because I'm lost."
The policeman smiled down at Johnnie Jones until Johnnie Jones smiled up
at the policeman and forgot what a little boy he was. Then the officer
lifted him up in his strong arms, and asked him his name. Johnnie Jones
could tell him his name, but he could not tell him which way he had come
from home, so they decided to go to the nearest drug-store and find the
number of the house.
The policeman began to tell him stories about his own little boy whose
name was Johnnie Green, and Johnnie Jones was so interested that he
forgot to be tired. Just before they reached the drug-store Johnnie
Jones heard a dog barking. He looked around, and there was the very
dog that lived next door to him and played with him every day.
"Oh!" he said, "I know that dog! He is Max, and he can find the way
home." "You'll take me home, won't you, Max?" he asked the dog, who was
so glad to see his little neighbor that he was trying his best to kiss
him on the face.
"All right," the big policeman said, "but I'll come too, so I shall know
where you live if you are ever lost again."
[Illustration: Max wagged his tail and began to trot home--]
Max wagged his tail and began to trot home. Johnnie Jones trotted after
Max, and the policeman after Johnnie Jones. It was not very long before
they could see the house, and there was Mother standing at the gate,
looking up the street, and down the street, and across the street, for
her little boy. When she saw him she ran to meet him and clasped him in
her arms.
"Mother dear," said Johnnie Jones, "I was lost, and the policeman found
me, and then Max found us both, and I shall never again go to see a
circus by myself."
Mother told him that the band of music he had heard did not belong to
a circus, but was the Citizen's Band on its way to the park, and that,
since so much time had passed while Johnnie Jones was lost, it was too
late for him to go to the park that day. Of course the little boy was
sorry to miss the treat, but he was very glad to be at home once more.
Mother shook hands with the policeman, and thanked him for being kind
to her boy. As soon as he had gone, she and Johnnie Jones went into
the house for their lunch, and, afterwards, the little fellow was so
tired that he fell asleep in Mother's lap and dreamed that he was a
tall policeman finding lost boys.
* * * * *
Mother's Story of the Princess and Her Pigeon
"Mother," asked Johnnie Jones, "what is a carrier pigeon?"
"A pigeon which is trained to carry messages from one place to another,"
Mother answered. "In the olden times, as there were no trains, or
steamboats, or postmen, or telegraph offices, people would very often
take pigeons with them when they started off on a long journey. As soon
as they reached their journey's end they would write a letter to the
family so far away, tie it to a pigeon, and release him. Then the pigeon
would fly away home with the message."
"Once, in that olden time, there lived a beautiful princess whom her
father and mother, the king and queen, decided to send away on a visit
to her grandmother. They gave her a milk-white pony to ride, and sent
many servants to take care of her. Now this princess had a pet pigeon
which she loved very dearly, and which she insisted upon taking with
her, though the queen was afraid it might prove troublesome on so long
a journey. The princess knew it would be a comfort to her, however, so
she was allowed to tie it to her saddle before she bade her parents
good-by, and started off.
"The princess had never been away from home before, and was very much
interested in everything she saw. She and her companions had to travel
through a great forest, and only the guides knew the way. One night
everyone was lying fast asleep on the ground in the thick woods, except
the princess, who was wide awake in her tent. At last she wearied of
lying there alone, so she rose, dressed herself, and went out into the
woods, carrying the pigeon in her arms.
"The moon was shining as bright as day, and the little girl went for
a walk. She was thinking of the father and mother at home, and did not
notice very carefully the direction in which she was wandering. After
a while she grew tired and turned back. Then she became frightened
because she could not see her tent, and could not remember which way
she had come. She called for her servants, but could make no one hear
her. She ran this way and that in the forest, but seemed only to go
further and further away from the camp. At last, very tired, she lay
down on the ground and cried herself to sleep.
"Next morning when the servants awoke they were very much alarmed to
discover that the princess had left her tent. They spent several days
seeking her in the forest, but not a trace of her could they find. Then
they went back to inform the king and queen, who were sad indeed to
hear such news. The king himself rode off to search in the forest, but
even he could not find the little maid.
"Meanwhile the princess had been wandering further and further away into
the great forest, with the pigeon tied to her arm. Fortunately, she had
brought with her a small basket full of lunch, which had been left by
her bed in case she should be hungry during the night. That was soon
gone, however, and then she had a hard time finding enough to eat. But
here and there she discovered wild berries, she drank water from the
clear, cold springs, and at night she found a comfortable, fragrant bed
under the pine trees, or in places where the grass was long and soft.
Sometimes wild animals came out, and looked at the little girl, but they
did not harm her.
"At last, the third day, she came to a large palace in the woods. Oh!
how happy she was. A prince met her at the door, invited her in, and
gave her delicious food and beautiful clothes. When she was rested after
her long journey, she told the prince who she was, and the reason for
her being alone in the forest, and begged him to send her home. The
prince was sorry for the little princess, but he was lonely in such a
large palace, so he asked her to live there with him. He was very kind
to her, but the princess wanted only to go home to be with her father
and mother.
"'Your palace is larger and more beautiful than my father's house,' she
told him, 'but I love my own home best, and I want to go back this very
day.'
"The prince was sorrowful when he heard what the little girl said; but,
hoping she might learn to care for his palace after a while, he gave her
a beautiful room filled with lovely things, and did everything he could
think of to make her happy.
"The little princess did try to be happy, but it was not possible. Every
evening she watched the birds fly back to their nests and she wished
that she, too, had wings and could fly away home. The pigeon was as
homesick as she. He would not eat, and pulled at the cord all the time,
trying to free himself. Finally the little princess decided to let him
fly away. 'Perhaps he can find his way home,' she thought; 'anyway I
shall let him try.'
"She wrote a letter to her father and mother, telling them where she
was, tied it under the pigeon's wing, and set him free. He flapped his
wings joyfully and flew out of the window high up in the air. Round and
round he circled, until in his own way he learned that the west was to
the right of him, the east to the left, the north was back of him, and
the south straight ahead. Then he started off like an arrow shot from a
bow, for home was there in the south.
"The little princess was more homesick than ever, left all alone.
"Meantime the pigeon flew very swiftly, sometimes as fast as a train can
go. No one can tell you how he knew the way, but he flew straight back
through the woods, and after a while reached the pigeon house just
outside the palace gate. Some of the servants who saw him fly in with
the note, caught him and carried him to the king. The king and queen
read the letter with great joy when they saw it had been written by
their little daughter, and all the people in the palace were happy to
know that the princess was safe and well.
"The pigeon flew back to the pigeon house. 'Coo, coo, coo,' he said to
all the other pigeons, 'home is the best place in the world.'
"The king ordered the fastest horses in the land, and he and the queen
rode off at once to find their little daughter. One day she saw them
coming. She clapped her hands with joy and ran to meet them. The king
and queen were as happy as she, and after they had greeted her, and bade
the prince good-by, they all three rode away home. The princess sat in
front of her father on his horse, because he could not bear to have her
out of his arms. After travelling back through the forest they reached
the palace at last.
"'Home is the best place in the world,' said the happy little princess.
"'Home is the best place in the world,' cooed the happy little pigeon."
Johnnie Jones lay back in Mother's arms. "I think so too," he said,
"I like Grandma's house and Auntie's house, but home is best of all."
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and the Squirrel
"Come," said Mother, "leave your toys now, and bathe your face and
hands, for it is time to go down town to buy your winter coat."
"Oh! Mother, I don't want to go down town," answered Johnnie Jones,
"because I think Sammy Smith is coming over to play with my new engine
this afternoon."
"But what will you do when the weather grows cold and you have no warm
coat to wear? I shall be too busy to go with you to-morrow."
"It's so warm to-day, Mother, I don't think it will grow cold very soon,
and anyway, I don't want to go down town."
Mother answered: "I know it will be cold soon, perhaps to-morrow, for
the wind is beginning to blow from the north. Come as soon as you can,
I have much to do and can't wait for you very long."
Then Johnnie Jones behaved like a silly little boy, although he was four
years old, quite old enough to know better. He fussed and fumed until
Mother said: "I am sorry, but I can't wait any longer." She went on down
town and left Johnnie Jones.
Sammy Smith did not come over to play after all, because he had gone
shopping with his mother. Johnnie Jones soon grew tired of playing alone
and wished he had not been so foolish.
That night the north wind blew and blew, so that, next morning, it
was very cold when Johnnie Jones awoke. Of course he could not go to
kindergarten nor out to play, because he had no heavy coat to wear. He
begged his mother to wrap him in a shawl, and take him down town in the
carriage, but she was too busy. So poor little Johnnie Jones had to stay
in the house all day.
That evening when it was time for his story, Mother said: "I shall have
to tell you the story of the foolish squirrel, because you reminded me
of him to-day."
This is the story.
Once upon a time, there lived in the woods a little squirrel whose name
was Silver. All summer long he played about with the other squirrels and
had a very good time indeed. Then, by and by, the days began to grow
shorter and cooler. The trees began to drop their brightly colored
leaves and their nuts, and the soft green grass turned brown. The wise
old mother squirrels knew what these things meant, and they said to all
the young ones:
"Winter is coming, so hurry away,
You have no longer time to play.
Gather the nuts with all your might
Before the ground with snow is white.
When winter comes there's naught to eat
Except the roots and nuts so sweet,
Which you must gather in the fall.
So frisk away and store them all."
The squirrels, large and small, went to work. They found holes in the
trees and old logs in which to hide their winter provisions, and they
scampered away to find their favorite food.
All except little Silver. He said to himself: "Humph! I don't believe
winter is coming so very soon, and besides, I'd rather just play, and
eat the nuts, than work as these other squirrels are doing."
So he played as he had all summer long, and he kept so warm frisking
about in the sunshine that he did not realize how short and cold the
days were growing.
At last winter really came. Oh! how cold it was then. Silver said:
"Perhaps I had better begin gathering some nuts for winter." But very
few nuts could he find, not nearly enough to store away. The other
squirrels, and the people who lived near the woods, had been working
while he was playing, and had gathered in the harvest.
Poor little Silver did not know what to do. Winter was here and he had
no provisions. He went to all the other squirrels and begged for some of
their nuts. They only said: "You were playing while we were working, now
you must work while we rest and eat."
Then Silver was sorry he had not obeyed the wise old squirrels and he
told himself that, next year, he would surely begin early to prepare for
winter. But there might not have been a "next year" for Silver, if a
little boy had not found him in the woods and taken him home to keep and
feed until the spring-time.
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and the Peach Preserves
Everyone knows that people prepare for winter during the summer and
fall. (Bees and squirrels and caterpillars do, too.) Almost everybody
lays in the coal and kindling wood for the winter fires while the
weather is still warm, and buys warm clothing before it is time to
wear it.
In the summer, farmers cut the long grass, and after it has been dried
by the sun, store it in the barns for the cows and horses to eat in the
winter. In the summer and the autumn, people do not eat all the berries,
and grapes, and pears and peaches; some they make into preserves and
jelly for the winter.
Mrs. Jones could make delicious preserves. She enjoyed making it and
Johnnie Jones liked to help her. He could really help a great deal
because he was a careful little boy. Every member of the Jones family
liked peach preserves better than any other kind, therefore Mother
usually made enough of it to fill many jars. This year, however, she had
been so busy that she did not start her preserving very early, and when
she was ready to begin, she found it was too late to buy many good
peaches. She bought a few, though, and preserved them with Johnnie
Jones's help.
When the preserves was made. Mother had enough to fill four glass jars.
"Not very much," she told Johnnie Jones, "but there is one jar for
Father, one for you and one for me, and then one more for company." She
left the jars on the kitchen table while she went upstairs to change her
dress.
Johnnie Jones ran out into the yard to play. He saw Sammy Smith,
Elizabeth, and Ned across the street, and called them. "I want to show
you something," he said.
When they came, he led them to the kitchen and showed them the
preserves.
"I should like to have some of it," said Ned,--"may I?"
"We made it to use in the winter," Johnnie Jones explained, "when there
isn't any fresh fruit."
"I'd like some now on a piece of bread." Ned insisted.
"You said one jar of preserves was yours; give us each a taste," begged
Sammy Smith.
"I don't think Mother meant that I might eat it whenever I wanted it,"
Johnnie Jones answered. "But perhaps she wouldn't care if we should each
take a taste," he added.
Now Johnnie Jones knew he was not allowed to eat between meals, but the
preserves did have an attractive appearance, and he thought that just
one taste would not matter.
The top of the jar had not yet been sealed, so it came off very easily.
Johnnie Jones gave a piece of bread, with a very little of the
preserves, to each child, and took some for himself.
"It is good!" Ned exclaimed. "Give us some more, Johnnie Jones, your
mother won't care."
Johnnie Jones was afraid Mother would care, but he liked the preserves
very much, and besides, he enjoyed giving it to the children, so he gave
them each a little more and again took some for himself. It was curious
that the more they had the more they wanted, and after each one had been
given "just a little more," several times, the large jar was nearly
empty.
"We may as well finish it," said Ned, So they did. Then the children
went home and left Johnnie Jones alone in the kitchen with the empty
jar.
Johnnie Jones was unable to eat his supper that evening. Mother asked
him what was the matter, and he told her. She was very sorry.
"Oh! little son," she said, "all your life I have been able to trust
you, and I did not think you would touch the preserves, when I left the
jars on the table. Say you are sorry, dear, and that such a thing shall
never happen again. For wouldn't it be dreadful if I should be obliged
to lock up everything I can't let you have?"
Johnnie Jones was very sorry indeed, but he answered: "You said that one
jar was mine."
"So I did," Mother answered; "but I had no idea that you would want to
use it all at one time, or between meals, or before the winter-time.
Since you have had all your share to-day, you will, of course, expect no
more next winter, when Father and I have ours."
Just then, Johnnie Jones thought he would never wish for peach preserves
again, for he had eaten too much and felt uncomfortable; but probably he
changed his mind in the winter, and regretted that his share was all
gone.
Sammy Smith, Elizabeth and Ned came to see Mrs. Jones next day, told her
they were sorry they had begged for the preserves, and asked her to
excuse them, which of course she did.
Mother was glad to find that it would be unnecessary to lock up
forbidden things after all, for Johnnie Jones liked to have her trust
him, and showed her that she could.
* * * * *
How the Children Helped Tom and Sarah
Most of the houses on Park street, where the Jones family lived, were
large and pretty, but there was one house that was very small and ugly.
It had been unoccupied for a long time, when one day, Sarah and Tom
Watson, with their father and mother, moved in. The little brother and
sister were such agreeable children, that they were soon known and loved
by all their small neighbors.
One morning, when Johnnie Jones was passing the ugly little house, he
saw Sarah and Tom standing at the gate with an unhappy expression on
their faces, usually so bright. Johnnie Jones stopped and asked them
what was the trouble.
"We don't know what to do," answered Tom. "A friend of Father's promised
to send him a load of coal to-day. It may come any minute and Father
is too busy to put it into the coal-house. Mother can't attend to it
because she must finish some sewing for a lady, so there is no one but
Sarah and me. We are afraid we can't put it all away before night, and
if it isn't locked up in the coal-house this evening, something may
happen to it while we are asleep, and then we shouldn't have any coal
to keep us warm in the winter."
"Why don't you hire a man to put it away for you?" asked Johnnie Jones.
"We haven't money enough," Tom answered.
"I'd better go home and ask my mother what to do. She'll know," said
Johnnie Jones.
"Well," Mother said, when she had heard of the children's difficulty,
"Sarah and Tom need friends to help them, so why don't you, in your
overalls, and Ned, Susie, and the other children in theirs, take your
wagons and wheelbarrows, and spend the afternoon helping with the coal?
A dozen pairs of hands, even if they are small, can accomplish a great
deal of work."
Mother sent her hired man to see that the coal-house was ready for the
coal, while Johnnie Jones hurried off to collect the children.
The boys and girls dressed in their overalls hastened to the small brown
house. There they found Sarah and Tom as busy as bees, and very happy to
welcome the children gathered to help them. Such a merry time as they
had! Some of the children played that they were strong horses, and drew
the wagons, which the others loaded at the gate and unloaded at the
coal-house door. Very soon the play drivers looked like real drivers
of coal-carts for they were covered with coal-soot from their heads to
their feet. All of the children, too, worked quite as hard as any real
horses, or any real men, and after a while, before dark, the load of
coal was safe in the coal-house. Then the children ran home for a
much-needed bath.
Meantime Mrs. Watson had been sewing all the day long, and in the
evening, when it was time to go home, she felt very tired. All day she
had worried about the coal, wondering how she could attend to it that
night. She knew that her children would try to help, but she did not
expect very much from them because their hands were so small. As she
walked home she thought, and thought, trying to decide what was best
to do.
At last she came near the ugly little house, and then she was greatly
surprised, for Sarah and Tom, neat and clean, were swinging on the gate,
the pavement was nicely swept, and there was no sign of any coal.
[Illustration: Such a merry time as the children had!]
"Didn't the coal come?" she asked the children.
"Yes," they answered joyfully, "and it is in the coal-house."
She could scarcely believe them, but they said: "Come and see."
When she saw that the coal was really there, locked away for the winter
in the shed, she was almost too surprised and pleased to speak.
At last she asked the delighted children whether the fairies had come to
their aid. "No," they answered, "but all the children in the
neighborhood did, and we had such a good time that it was almost the
same as giving a party."
"The children were very kind," Mrs. Watson said, when she had heard all
about the happy afternoon. "We could not have managed the coal without
their assistance, and some day we must try to help them."
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones's Story of the Stars
The stars were just beginning to show themselves in the dark blue sky,
when Mother and Johnnie Jones sat down by the window to watch for
Father. Mother and Johnnie Jones loved the stars. Almost every evening
they sat and looked up at them. Sometimes they tried to count them, but
they never could, because there were so very many. Often, too, they
could see the bright, round moon. Johnnie Jones said that a queer, fat
little man lived in the moon, who winked and bowed whenever little boys
looked at him. To be polite, Johnnie Jones always returned the winks and
bows. But this night there was no moon, just the little stars were
appearing, and twinkling as fast as they could.
"Mother," said Johnnie Jones, "I'll tell you a story all my own, about
the shining stars."
"I'd like very much to hear it," Mother answered.
"Once upon a time, oh! such a very long time ago that it must have been
before you were born, Mother dear, all the stars fell down from the sky.
I think it was the wind that blew and blew until they became loose. They
fell down whirling and twirling just like the snow flakes, except that
they weren't cold and white, but all bright and shining. They were so
beautiful that the people looked out of their windows and wished the
stars would never stop raining down from the sky."
"Is that all the story?" asked Mother, much interested.
"No, there is another part," said Johnnie Jones. "When all the stars had
fallen down to the ground, what do you suppose they really were?"
"I can't imagine," Mother answered.
"Why, Mother, they were beautiful little flowers all different colors.
Some were red, some were yellow, and some were purple violets. They
began to grow, and nobody gathered any, for they were so pretty there on
the ground."
"But," asked Mother, "when it was night time again, what did the poor
people do without any stars to shine in the sky?"
"Don't you see," Johnnie Jones explained, "when the stars fell down they
left little holes in the sky, and the light behind shone through and
seemed just like the stars."
"I think that is a beautiful story," and Mother thanked him with a kiss,
before they ran down-stairs to meet Father coming home.
* * * * *
Johnnie Jones and Jack
One day, when Johnnie Jones was playing in his front yard, he heard the
yelping of a dog. He ran to the gate, and saw, lying in the street, a
poor little puppy which had been hurt by a wagon, or perhaps, an
automobile.
"You may come home with me, you poor little thing," Johnnie Jones told
the dog. "My mother will rub salve on you and make you well. Come on."
But the poor little puppy couldn't walk. Johnnie Jones picked him up,
and attempted to carry him to the house. The puppy was so heavy,
however, that Johnnie Jones was obliged to put him down and take him up
again, three times, before he reached the side door. He called to Mother
to come down.
"But, little son," she said, "we can't keep a strange dog. We shall have
to let him run away."
"Oh, Mother, he's hurt, and I am sure he's hungry, so don't you think we
shall have to keep him?"
Of course, as soon as Mother understood that the puppy was hurt, she
knew that it would be necessary to keep him, at least until he was well
again. She examined the little fellow and found that he was not badly
injured, but was merely bruised and frightened. She and Johnnie Jones
bathed and bandaged the poor little body, and when the puppy seemed to
feel more comfortable, gave him a bowl of milk. He could not say "Thank
you," but he wagged his tail, and kissed their hands, which meant "Thank
you," so they agreed that he was a polite little dog,
"But where shall we keep him?" asked Mother. "I can't allow him in the
house, he would gnaw the legs of the chairs and tables; all puppies do
when they are cutting their teeth."
"Perhaps Father and I can build a doghouse," Johnnie Jones answered, and
when Father came home they talked it over.
"Well," Father decided, "If the grocery man will give us a large box, we
can line it, fill it with straw, and I'll cut a door in one end. That
should make an excellent house for Mr. Doggie."
Johnnie Jones ran to the grocery-store as fast as he could run, and
asked the grocery man to send down a large box. As soon as it came,
Father cut the door, Johnnie Jones arranged the straw, and there was the
house all ready for the dog.
Johnnie Jones named him Jack. Jack soon became well and strong, and
because he was such a good dog, and because his owner could not be
found, he was allowed to remain at Johnnie Jones's house. He wasn't a
puppy very long. He grew and grew, until he was too large for his box,
and had to sleep in the front hall of the Jones's house. He and Johnnie
Jones loved each other dearly, and were almost always together. Mother
used to say that they reminded her of Mary and her lamb, except that
Jack was as black as coal.
You remember how Mary's lamb followed her to school one day, which was
against the rule? Well, it was necessary to keep Jack in the closet
every morning, until after Johnnie Jones had gone to kindergarten,
because he always wanted to go with him. One morning the door was not
fastened securely, and Jack was able to push it open. Then, before any
one saw him, he ran out the gate, and followed Johnnie Jones. The little
boy did not see him and did not know that Jack was just behind him as he
entered the kindergarten room, until the children began to laugh and he
turned around to see what was the matter. There stood Jack, wagging his
tail with all his might.
The children begged Miss Page, the teacher, to let Jack spend the
morning in kindergarten, and she said that she would try him. She was
afraid, however, that he would not know how to behave. Johnnie Jones was
a trifle late that morning, and the children were all ready to march to
the circle. Jack followed his master as he marched to his place, and
then sat down on the floor beside the little boy's chair.
Miss Page asked the children which one of them would like to stand in
the centre of the circle and shake hands with the others, in turn, as
they sang the good-morning song.
"Let Jack," said Johnnie Jones, "he can shake hands as well as anybody,
and he is a visitor to-day."
Miss Page consented, and Johnnie Jones called Jack to the circle and
offered him his hand. Jack at once gave him his paw. One by one the
children came and shook Jack's paw. Everyone considered it great fun,
and Jack enjoyed it also, though he could not laugh as the children did.
[Illustration: Each child came up and shook Jack's paw--]
As soon as all the good-mornings had been sung, Miss Page started a
game of ball. Now there was nothing that Jack liked better than playing
with a ball, so he ran out on the circle barking, and jumped up on
the boy who had the ball in his hand. The boy became frightened, not
understanding what Jack wanted, and let the ball fall and roll away.
Jack rushed after it, knocking down chairs and tables, spilling the
blocks out of their boxes, and tearing paper chains to bits. At last he
caught the ball in his mouth, brought it to Johnnie Jones, and began to
jump and bark, begging the little boy to throw it.
Miss Page said that she was sorry, but Jack would have to go home.
"He is a very good dog," she said, "but he does not behave well in
kindergarten."
At that moment Sam, the hired man, came into the room. Mrs. Jones had
missed Jack and sent Sam to find him. Jack was having a pleasant time
and did not want to go home, but he knew how to obey, and, when Johnnie
Jones commanded him to "go home," he turned slowly and walked out of
the room.
So you see, Jack was turned out by the teacher, just as was Mary's lamb.
One bright day, when the ground was covered with snow, Father took
Johnnie Jones for a ride on his sled. They had been around the block
only twice when the clock struck two, and then it was time for Father
to go to his office.
"Oh! dear," said Johnnie Jones, "now I'll have no one to pull my sled.
I wish Jack could."
"Perhaps he can," Father answered. "When I come home to-night I'll make
some sort of a harness for him, and then to-morrow we shall see what he
can do."
That evening, with rope, straps, and Johnnie Jones's reins Father made
a very good harness, and the next day he hitched Jack to the sled. At
first Jack could not imagine what Father and Johnnie Jones wished him to
do. He allowed himself to be hitched to the sled, but every time Johnnie
Jones sat upon it, and said "Get up," Jack would jump about, and off
would roll Johnnie Jones into the snow. Then Jack would bark as much
as to say, "What are you trying to do, anyway?"
At last, after many trials, Father managed to hold Jack quiet until
Johnnie Jones was seated firmly on the sled, clasping a side with each
hand. Then Father, still keeping a tight hold of Jack, ran with him to
the corner and back several times. At last Jack began to understand what
was expected of him. The next day they tried again, and it was not long
before Johnnie Jones could drive the big dog without Father's help.
After a while Jack would even pull Johnnie Jones's sled to kindergarten
each morning, and then draw the empty sled home, after Johnnie Jones had
gone into the house. He certainly was a clever dog. It was no wonder
Johnnie Jones loved him.
In the winter-time there was an excellent place for coasting in the park
very near Johnnie Jones's house. There was a long, straight hill, and
at the foot of it a long, straight pond, so that, with a good start, a
child could coast from the top of the hill to the end of the pond. That
is, of course, when there was snow and the pond was frozen over at the
same time.
One afternoon Johnnie Jones started out with his sled and Jack ran along
beside him.
"Don't try to coast across the pond to-day," called Father. "When I was
passing I noticed that the ice was broken in several places."
"Then I'll coast on the other side of the hill," Johnnie Jones answered.
When he reached the park, however, he found two of the children coasting
across the pond as usual. One of them, whose name was Ned, asked Johnnie
Jones: "What's the matter with everybody to-day? Where are the other
children?"
"I suppose their fathers wouldn't let them come," answered Johnnie
Jones; "and you shouldn't coast across the pond. My father just told me
that it isn't safe, because the ice is beginning to break."
"Oh! it is perfectly safe," Ned replied, "because we have been over it
several times. The coasting is better fun to-day than ever before, and
there are no children to block the way. Come and try it."
"I wish I might," Johnnie Jones answered. He sat on his sled and watched
the older boys coast safely across, and run gaily back, waving their
hands to him.
"Perhaps my father was mistaken." he said after a while. "I think I'll
try it just once."
"There is one tolerably large hole," Ned warned him, "but it is on one
side, and if you are careful you won't fall in."
"I'll be careful," answered Johnnie Jones; "you sit here and watch me."
He placed himself flat on his sled, and Ned gave him a push. Johnnie
Jones was not quite five years old then, two years younger than Ned, and
he could not guide his sled very well. When it went near the big hole,
he could not turn it away. Then splash! Both Johnnie Jones and the sled
plunged into the icy cold water.
The water was not very deep, but as Johnnie Jones struck it head
foremost, and as the sled was on top of him, he might have found some
trouble in forcing his way out, had it not been for Jack. That faithful
friend was close beside his little master, and in just a few seconds had
drawn him out of the water.
As soon as Ned and Sammy Smith saw what had happened, they hurried to
the house and told Mr. Jones. He ran all the way to the pond, picked up
the little wet, cold boy, and carried him home as quickly as possible.
Jack was wet and cold too, but he ran around so fast that he soon grew
warm, then he crawled under the kitchen stove, where he stopped until he
was dry. But Johnnie Jones had to go to bed, for several days, with a
very bad cold.
He was sorry he had been disobedient, and asked Father please to excuse
him that time. Father said he would not punish him, but that he was
sorry to think his little boy did not trust his father.
"I do, Father," Johnnie Jones answered, "and after this I'll obey you,
instead of minding little boys."
"Grown people generally know best," Father said.
After that, of course, Mother, Father and Johnnie Jones loved good old
Jack more than ever, and were glad they had kept him when he first came
to them a puppy, hurt and hungry.
* * * * *
Stiggins
Johnnie Jones's Aunt Jean owned a dog. His name was Stiggins, just
Stiggins, for dogs need only one name, instead of the two or three that
people have. Aunt Jean was accustomed to go to Lake Chautauqua every
summer, far away from home. Stiggins liked to go with her, and was
always afraid that he might be left behind, as had happened, once or
twice. So, as soon as he saw Aunt Jean begin to make her preparations,
he would spend all his time either following her about, or lying on her
trunk.
Each time she started to pack she would first have to drive Stiggins
into the yard. If she turned away, just for a few minutes, there he
would be again, lying in a tray upon her best dresses, or her prettiest
hats. Aunt Jean would scold and scold, but scolding was of no use.
At last, when the day came on which they were to begin their journey,
and the trunks had been locked and sent away, Stiggins would run to the
stable, jump into the carriage, and there he would stay until he and the
family had reached the station.
But when it was time to board the train, Stiggins was most unhappy. He
was forced to ride in the baggage car, all alone, and Stiggins liked
company. He wished to ride in the sleeping car with Aunt Jean. Of course
he could not, because he was only a dog, which was something that
Stiggins had never quite understood. He would whimper, and run away,
when the coachman attempted to lead him to his proper place, so usually,
Aunt Jean had to take him, and to tie him, herself.