“My scissors are dull,” said Mother, when she began to cut out Betty’s
aprons. “I wish the scissors-grinder would come.”
“He is coming,” said Bobby. “I hear his bell.”
“That sounds like his bell,” said Mother. “Look out, Bobby, and see if it
really is the scissors-grinder.”
“It is the scissors-grinder!” cried Bobby. “He is coming down the back
street.”
They looked out and saw the scissors-grinder.
He was carrying his grindstone on his back and playing a tune with his
bell.
“Call him, Bobby,” said Mother.
The scissors-grinder was quick to see Bobby.
Before Bobby had time to call, he had turned in toward the back door.
[Illustration]
He swung his grindstone from his back and set it on the ground.
“Will you please sharpen my scissors?” asked Mother.
The scissors-grinder took the scissors in his hand.
Then “Whir-r-r, whir-r-r, whir-r-r,” went the grindstone. Sparks flew
from the whirring stone.
Bobby and Betty stepped back. They were afraid of the grindstone.
“Any knives to grind?” asked the scissors-man when the scissors were
ground.
“Yes,” answered Mother. “I wish you would grind this knife.”
Again the wheel went, “Whir-r-r, whir-r-r, whir-r-r.”
Again sparks flew from the grindstone.
Then the man gave Mother the knife, and she paid him for his work.
The scissors-grinder now swung his grindstone on his back. Again he rang
his bell.
Bobby and Betty watched the scissors-grinder until he turned a street
corner.
_For study and play_:
Have you any old knives to grind?
And scissors to grind, too?
Bring them out, my pretty dears,
I’ll make them look like new.
[Illustration]