“Olive bought some baskets for her mother and a little beaded purse for
herself and then she said to the little Indian girl:
“‘Won’t you have some cocoa with me?’ The little Indian girl nodded her
head and said: ‘Me like goodies!’
“So Olive and the little Indian girl went into Olive’s room and had a
fine feast, using blue cups and saucers and eating bread and butter from
little blue plates.
“‘Me tell you story?’ asked the little Indian girl. Olive was delighted.
“‘Please,’ she said. And the little Indian girl began:
“‘My brudder, he very big man. He tall and strong and plenty muscle he
has.’ She bent her arms to show what she meant by muscle and she stood up
with her arms above her to show how tall he was. ‘He build a boat,’ she
went on, ‘a red boat—a canoe—and he take it along water so it never make
a sound. He know how to paddle so! Never a sound!
“‘We have a river by our hut and he keep the boat by the bank, tied to an
old tree. He take us all out in it, but what do you suppose he call that
boat?’
“Olive couldn’t guess. She tried many names she thought the boat might be
called, but they were all wrong. ‘Tell me,’ she begged.
“‘My brudder, he not call his boat after great strong man, or after
warrior or hero; no, he call boat after our little baby brudder—what
mudder call the little wee one. He call his boat the Papoose which mean
an Indian baby—and he mean our baby. His boat which can go out into the
big waves and not upset—which is so strong, like my brudder—it is named
the Papoose after the baby!’ Her eyes were dancing with joy but it was
time for her to be off.
“She put her basket on top of her head and started off. ‘Will your fadder
bring you to see the big Papoose and the little Papoose?’ she asked as
she left, and to Olive’s great delight her mother called out:
“‘We will take you some time.’ And both little girls left each other
smiling and happy.”
JULY 11: A Feast for the Mice
“I am going to tell you about Mr. Gray Mouse’s feast,” said daddy. “There
were biscuits of all sorts and soft cream cheese—such cheese as mice had
never had before. Their mouths and paws were covered with it, and one of
the little children mice said:
“‘Let’s not wipe off our whiskers. We can do that later on when we may
be getting hungry again—perhaps after we’re in bed.’ So all the children
mice had very sticky mouths and whiskers. But the big mice said:
“‘Let the children have a good time, for this is a real party.’ And Mr.
Gray Mouse was very much pleased that all his guests were having such a
good time.
“When the party was over and it was time to go home, Mr. LongTail Mouse
said: ‘I’m getting tired of our present home. Let’s all have a change. I
have been looking at new homes for a little time to be ready in case we
ever wanted to move, and I know of a fine one.’
“‘Let’s go,’ said Grandpa Gray Mouse. ‘I never believe in living in one
home too long. That’s why I’m such an old mouse, and have lived so much
longer than most. I keep changing homes—and I fool the cats!’
“So all the mice went to a new home—for they knew in a short time after
the feast they had just had that a cat would be invited to the house to
live!”
JULY 12: Knowing How to Swim
“In a shallow river was a deep hole,” said daddy. “Two little girls were
wading in the shallow part. Only one of them could swim, and swimming I
think is not only good fun but is something every one should be able to
do. Alas, the little girl who could not swim slipped on a stone and fell
into the deep water. And had it not been for the one who could swim a
little girl would have lost her life.”
JULY 13: Flower Dreams
“The Fairy Queen,” said daddy, “gives sweet dreams to all the flowers.
It is part of her work. That is why the flowers are happy and rested and
beautiful everywhere. Even out on country roads where there is dust,
hard ground and rough places, lovely flowers grow up and are proud and
happy as they hear people going by in their automobiles or carriages or
walking, exclaiming how wonderful they are.
“Now and again, some little flower turns to one side in the wrong way and
it has a bad dream, and then when it wakes up it is not lovely like its
brothers or sisters. But that seldom happens. And so, you see, flowers
know about sweet dreams—all owing to the Fairy Queen.”
JULY 14: The Naughty Breezes
“One day old Mr. North Wind had been very busy,” commenced daddy. “He had
told the Breeze Children that they must be very good because he had so
much work to do.
“‘What have you to do?’ they asked him.
“‘I have to go to the woods and knock down all the old branches so they
won’t fall on people’s heads! I must attend to many things.’
“Now the Breeze Children were very apt to be naughty. ‘Let’s do some work
too,’ they said.
“‘What shall we do?’ one of them asked.
“‘Well, let’s blow about a little and find something.’
“Pretty soon they passed by a window of an office. There were a great
many papers lying about on the desks and as one of the little Breeze
Children said:
“‘There doesn’t seem to be much to do here,’ the papers began to blow
this way and that.
“‘Oh, let’s blow papers,’ they shouted as they saw what had happened. And
all that day they went about from window to window blowing all the papers
they could find. Such a time they had!
“That is why there are paper weights—all because of the Breeze Children
who are almost too fond of fun.”
JULY 15: The Coral Families
“Why aren’t we called coral insects any more, mother?” asked the small
coral polyp. Coral is a hard substance used for jewelry and ornaments,
you know.
“Because, my dear,” said the mother, “you are a kind of animal, and not
insect. It is incorrect to call you an insect, just as it would be wrong
to call me one.”
“But somehow,” said the coral polyp, “I would rather be called an insect
than a polyp. A polyp doesn’t seem to mean much.”
“It means what you are,” said his mother. “But perhaps that doesn’t mean
much. We aren’t big enough to think of what we are called. We just belong
to a big group and you and I have grown friendly. That is why you call me
mother polyp. But maybe I am your mother polyp after all. It really is
too much trouble to think about. We have beautiful homes and so have all
the members of our family. Just think, we have an island named after our
homes. It is called Coral Island.
“Oh, I do feel so sorry for those who live in wooden houses and in brick
houses. How ugly their homes are. Think of wood and brick compared to
coral. Now we live and get all our support from our coral homes. And
think how wonderful they are? Some are of red coral and some of pink, but
all are beautiful.
“Yes, the more I think of it, the more I’m sorry for the creatures who
live in houses of wood or brick, ground holes or rough nests.
“Besides, it is so much finer to have a home on the water—a coast home is
far nicer than an inland home.”
“Well, I suppose,” said the young polyp, “that it all depends on how one
looks at it.”
“I look at it from the standpoint of a polyp,” said the mother polyp
proudly.
“To be sure we are wonderful to have such homes,” said the young polyp.
“And still finer than that is the fact that we have a shoemaker in the
family.”
“What?” asked mother polyp.
“To be sure,” said the young polyp. “There is the coral shoemaker, and he
is a relation.”
“That’s so, that’s so,” said the mother polyp. “But of course we don’t
wear shoes, and so he isn’t of much use.”
“That’s true,” said the young polyp, “but it is always useful to have one
in the family. And it sounds so businesslike to speak of Cousin Coral
Shoemaker.”
For there is a little creature with just that name and he is a cousin of
our friends who live in the coral reefs.
And no wonder the coral families boast and brag of the homes they
live in, for very few of us could even dream of living in a jeweled
home. But after all, for people and animals a coral reef would be very
uncomfortable, and besides people and animals have so very much more
sense!
JULY 16: The Garden Tools
“It’s great fun to be a rake,” said the rake, “and to make everything
look nice and tidy. And in the autumn it is such fun raking up all the
leaves and getting ready for the big bonfires.
“It is fun, too, to rake the freshly mown grass and to make everything
smooth and nice.”
“Ah, but it is such fun to be a trowel,” said the trowel, “and to dig
around the garden flowers and to make them grow. They like to be made
all nice and comfy, to have the dirt loosened about them to give them a
little breathing space.
“They don’t like too much! They want to be held in the earth firmly but
with soft, nicely pressed earth about them. And our family attends to
that.”
“Ah, but it is nice to be a hoe,” said the hoe, “for I can do such a
great deal of work. Just take the work I do with string-beans alone.
“I don’t suppose there could be any string-beans if it weren’t for me.
I do such a great deal with the string-beans. I keep them cheerful. I
pay them some attention. I make them feel like growing up into nice
vegetables. I hoe all about them.”
“But think of all the help I am when any one wants to transplant
anything,” said the trowel. “I can dig up the root so that plenty of its
dirt comes up with it. Plants don’t like to leave all their soil behind;
they like to take a little of it along with them, just as people do when
they’re going away for the summer—they like to take along with them some
of their photographs and little odds and ends, some of the things near
and dear to them.”
“It is the same way with the plants and I help to make that possible.”
“Well,” said the lawn-mower, “I like to make the lawn and the terraces
look nice and I do make them look so neat. I’m the lawn’s barber, I am!”
All the other garden tools moved about and laughed in their funny tool
way at the joke the lawn-mower had tried to crack.
“Pretty good, pretty good,” they said.
“And a garden fork like me,” said the garden fork, “can do a good deal of
work too. I like to do my share.”
“We can do a good deal,” said several balls of string. “We keep things
from falling down and we give them a little help and encouragement.”
“So do we,” said some little sticks up which some plants were climbing.
“We try to do our part,” said a little two-pronged fork and a shovel
together.
A two-pronged fork is a fork with two prongs instead of three or four as
a fork usually has, you will notice.
“But I feel as if I were a great deal of help these days,” said the hoe,
“just when those string-beans need so much attention.”
“And I must thin out some of the flowers,” said the trowel. “Some of them
are growing so closely together that they won’t live that way and so I am
going to separate them and put them in other beds.”
“And you will need my help, too,” said the watering pot, “not to mention
the water!”
“That is so,” said the trowel. “But I have a great deal of important
weeding to do.”
“And I will have to rake up the weeds that you have dug up in the garden
path,” said the rake, “or things won’t look tidy and neat.”
“And I must water all the flowers for there hasn’t been any rain in some
time and it’s up to me to do a great deal of work,” said the watering pot.
“I really think,” said the rake, “that we are all useful. We all help the
one who owns the garden. Yes, every one of us helps.
“We must all work, each do his part, for each one is needed for something
or other.”
“You’re right,” said the hoe; “none of us should boast alone. We should
all work together for the good of the garden and for the good of the
flowers. Then we will each be doing more, for when creatures and things
work together and don’t waste time boasting and arguing then a lot gets
finished.”
JULY 17: The Jolly Dust Brothers
“All the dust in the world belongs to the Family of the Dust
Brothers—just as every little Toad or Frog belongs to the Toad or Frog
family,” said daddy. “One day not long ago, a group of the Dust Brothers
had moved to all the window sills in a little house they thought was very
nice. Some of them had chosen to hide behind pictures, and under chairs,
and on the glass mirrors. The ones who hid on the glass mirrors thought
they would have lots of fun because folks could not see themselves so
plainly—and then they would see the new-comers to the mirrors. Not, of
course, that it was the first time any of them had ever made mirrors
their homes—but they hadn’t been back since the last dusting day.
“The best friend of the Dust Brothers when they are wide awake is old
Mr. Sun. Then they can all be seen by the lady of the house and what fun
it is for them to be scolded at and to dash off again—only to come back
whenever they feel like it.
“When they have moved to a new home and are tired and sleepy the dark
clouds are their friends, and Mr. Rain; for then it is so dark they can’t
be seen and they have a good old sleep.
“But yesterday when the Dust Brothers were having such a frolic it was a
beautiful day. Mr. Sun had just decided it was getting up time—and he had
dressed slowly and with great care so he would look very fine and stylish.
“As he was ready to peep in the windows to see what was going on he saw a
lot of little Gnomes perched all around talking to the Dust Brothers.
“‘Why is it,’ asked Peter Gnome, ‘that you are so anxious to live where
you know you’ll be sent away again? Why don’t you choose some home where
you can stay?’
“‘Oh, Peter,’ they cried in shocked whispers, ‘you don’t understand
us. You truly don’t.’ And if they could have cried without drowning
themselves I am sure they would have—for they sounded very sad for a
minute. But then they became happy again for they explained it all to
Peter Gnome.
“‘You see,’ they continued, ‘if we live somewhere and are not driven away
too many of the Family come to join us—and it’s more fun to have lots and
lots of homes than a few big ones for all of us. It would make us have a
life like a hotel—ah no, we must have a home life—just a few of us living
together at a time. Of course, we don’t take up much room, so more of us
can live together than most folks.
“‘And as for wanting to have our adventures any different—dear me—we
wouldn’t change for all the world. We can tease and tease and tease those
big grown-ups with their brooms and dusters. Hurrah, hurrah, what merry
lives we lead.
“‘And now, Mr. Sun,’ they said, ‘shine for all you’re worth—so the
grown-ups will see us. Then we’ll be off for a scamper.’
“Sure enough, Mr. Sun did just as the Dust Brothers had asked him to, and
as the Gnomes were rushing off to call on their old friend Mr. Giant,
they heard the Dust Brothers laughing and saying,
“‘They drive us away, but we always come back,
We say Hurrah, but they say Alack!’”
JULY 18: The Bad Poison Ivy
“The little white berries of Poison Ivy,” said daddy, “are clustered
quite near together on the stem, that is, they are all near each other,
and then from the little part of the stem which is the fattest goes up
a longer, slimmer stem from which branch out three leaves, all of them
pointed somewhat and very clearly and evenly marked with veins.
“Now, sometimes Poison Ivy is to be found in swamps and in ponds and
along the sides of the brooks and in the woods, too.
“Keep away from it and from what you think is Poison Ivy.
“A very good way to do each summer is to go to a library and get hold of
a big nature book or ask the librarian what book one shall look at in
order to see a picture of Poison Ivy. And then remember what it looks
like. For the Poison Ivy family is a mean one.”
JULY 19: The Sun Fairies
“Mr. Sun slowly went behind a hill—but what should remain in the sky
after he had left but wonderful spots and dots of red—bright, bright
red—just the color Mr. Sun had been before he went behind his hill for
his night’s sleep,” said daddy.
“‘They must be the Fairies of the Sun,’ said the Fairy Queen. And that is
what they were!”
JULY 20: The Meadow Fritillary Family
“I must tell you this evening,” commenced daddy, “a story about the
meadow fritillary family.”
“Oh, gracious, daddy!” exclaimed Jack. “Now really!”
“Well,” said Evelyn, “at least I understand it has something to do with a
meadow, but it may be a flower, fruit, animal or bird for all I know.”
“None of those,” said daddy laughing. “Guess again.”
“Well, it might be the name of a big rock,” said Jack.
“Wrong,” said daddy. Both the children laughed and started to think of
some other creatures and objects which might be in a meadow.
“Of course,” said Evelyn, “there are the meadow larks, but they are
birds, and daddy said these fritillaries aren’t birds.” Evelyn had a very
hard time calling them by their name and Jack said admiringly: “Well,
Evelyn, I wouldn’t dare try that!”
“There are meadow crickets,” said Evelyn.
“Now, we’re coming a little bit closer,” said daddy.
“Oh, do tell us,” urged Jack.
“The meadow fritillaries,” said daddy, “are butterflies!”
“Gracious,” said Evelyn, “that’s a pretty hard name for a little
butterfly to carry.”
“They have cousins named the Silver-Spot Fritillary family and the Gulf
Fritillary family, but it is of the meadow ones I am going to tell you,
and I think it would be easier for us to speak of them as the Meadow
family and leave out their long last name.
“Mother Meadow had become a butterfly in June and after four weeks had
gone by she laid her little eggs, and in another week there were little
caterpillars. After that Mother Meadow knew there would be butterflies;
and it would take a month for them to become chrysalides and another week
for them to become full-fledged butterflies. So Mother Meadow was much
excited.
“And after a time there would be more butterflies and she would be a
grandmother, and still more and she would be a great-grandmother. All
that would happen in a summer. And there would be still others but they
wouldn’t become full-grown until another spring came around. They would
stop feeding and sleep throughout the winter as many butterflies will do.
“The latest children of the Meadow Fritillary family in September feed
upon the leaves of violets which they think are particularly delicious.
“When it gets cold ahead of time in the autumn the little half-grown
butterflies go right to sleep and don’t bother about food, but when the
next spring comes they make up for it and eat twice as much.
“Mother Meadow lives in the lowland meadows and near swamps. She loves a
home near the spots where blue and white and purple violets grow, for she
knows her children love the sweet leaves.
“The Meadow family also takes honey from mint and other plants that grow
near the swamps.
“‘Our cousins,’ said Mother Meadow to her brood one day, ‘are very much
like us except for the row of silver spots which line their wings. That
is why they are called the Silver-Bordered Fritillary family. But we are
nice brown speckled butterflies and are as happy as our handsome cousins.’
“‘Have we any more cousins?’ asked the Meadow children butterflies.
“‘Oh, yes,’ said Mother Meadow, ‘there are the Silver-Spot Fritillaries,
the Great Spangled Fritillaries and the Regal Fritillaries as well as
different kinds of the silver variety. But we are just as happy and
contented as any of them, even if we are rather plain and dull and brown
for butterflies.
“‘And, my children, you rested on violet leaves when you were little
eggs. Some of you rested on the stems of the violet plants, but most of
you were right on the beautiful green leaves.
“‘So though we’re rather simple little butterflies, we mothers gave you
beds fit for princesses.’
“‘Ah, we’re happy,’ said the little butterflies, as they flew about in
the warm summer sunshine.”
JULY 21: George and the Goblin
“A little boy named George,” said daddy, “was very ill. He had not told
his mother he felt sick and wretched because he was afraid she might give
him some horrid medicine, so he went to bed without saying a word.
“He felt as though he had been in bed for hours and as if he would never
go to sleep when suddenly a little Goblin hopped on his window sill,
peeped around the curtain, and said:
“‘Good evening. May I come in?’
“‘Who are you?’ asked George.
“‘I am the Goblin who looks after little sick boys—when they have your
kind of sickness. The only trouble is that I can’t see half the little
boys I want to—for I can only go at night-time when they’re sleeping, and
there isn’t time for my rounds. I do believe I shall have to get some
Assistant Workers,’ and the Goblin looked puzzled.
“‘You’re a Goblin?’ gasped George.
“‘To be sure,’ said the Goblin.
“‘Why,’ continued George, ‘I thought they were terrible looking
creatures.’
“‘Ha, ha,’ laughed the Goblin. ‘You make just the same mistake that so
many boys and girls do. You see I am not terrible at all. In fact, I am
very nice and I cure little boys and girls of their pains.’
“‘Are you a Doctor Goblin, then?’ laughed George.
“‘No,’ smiled the Goblin. ‘Doctors and I really need have nothing to do
with each other. Doctors should only be called in when little girls and
boys are really, really sick and not when they’re only pretending.’
“‘I’m not pretending,’ said George, almost in tears. ‘I feel just as sick
as can be.’
“‘Nothing to brag about, is it?’ asked the Goblin.
“‘No-o,’ said George.
“‘And why are you sick?’ asked the Goblin.
“‘I don’t know,’ said George. For surely, he thought to himself, the
Goblin couldn’t know what he had been doing in the daytime—and George did
know, perfectly well, why he was sick.
“‘Did you enjoy those candies?’ asked the Goblin, and George looked quite
uneasy.
“‘I don’t know,’ said George.
“‘I suppose it is hard to make up your mind now whether you liked them or
not—since they have made you sick.’
“‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ cried George, who had thought he was going to have
fun with the Goblin, and he hid his head under the bedclothes in shame.
“‘You see,’ continued the Goblin, ‘you were getting into the habit of
really making a little piggie of yourself! You were getting too fat and
lazy. You didn’t like to play ball with the boys nearly so much as you
once did. Isn’t that true?’ And George, who had stuck his head out of the
bedclothes again, nodded.
“‘And some of the boys were beginning to call you “Roly-poly George,”
weren’t they? And they were telling you that soon you’d be able to join
the circus as the fat boy? It wasn’t very kind of them perhaps, but it
was true, eh?’ And the Goblin grinned.
“‘Yes,’ was all George could say.
“‘And last of all, you ate that whole layer of chocolates in the box
that was hidden in the pantry; you thought you were having a great feast.
Until—until—until—’
“‘Oh I know,’ said George. ‘I felt dreadfully sick—but I’m better now.
Don’t scold me any more, please.’
“‘I won’t,’ said the Goblin. ‘I visit little boys and girls like you
because I know you don’t want to get sick—and half the time you don’t
know that so many sweeties are very, very bad for you—and that you’ll
grow fat and lazy and no one will care for you when it comes play time.’
“‘I’ll be good—and not a piggie any more!’ said George. ‘I did feel so
sick—and I don’t want to be the fat boy in the circus. I want to stay at
home and play with my friends!’
“‘And you will!’ said the Goblin. ‘To-morrow morning you’ll be all
right—but first of all—to-night we’re going to take you for a sail in our
airboat just to show you that Goblins are really nice creatures after
all!’
“And several weeks later, George was so well and so strong and quick in
the games that he was made Captain of his Baseball Team!”
JULY 22: Jack-in-the-Pulpit
“I am Jack-in-the-pulpit,” announced a wild flower one day.
“Are you?” asked the gnats and flies walking and flying about.
“I am indeed,” said Jack. “If you don’t believe me, you can have a look.”
“We are invited to have a look,” said the gnats to each other and the
flies said: “We can call upon him, and he looks very fine, too.”
“In the spring,” said Jack, for he thought it was the correct thing
to preach a little sermon as he was in a pulpit, “in the spring,” he
continued, “I have many bright red berries. Years and years ago the
Indians used to boil these berries and found them very good to eat.
“But at this time of the year, I am simply at my best. Oh, yes, I feel so
jolly and well, so happy and gay.”
And Jack smiled at the little creatures around him.
“You would be surprised, no doubt,” he went on, “if I should tell you a
few things about my family history. Some I will leave unsaid, however,”
he added with a roguish look.
Now, over Jack’s head was a part of the flower which looked like the
sounding-board of a pulpit. He stood very straight in his pulpit, which
was very handsome, striped in greenish-yellow, white and orange-yellow
colored decorations.