There was once a boy named Billy, who spent a summer in the woods
with Somebody.
Somebody had expected to have a wonderful time telling him
stories; but it turned out that the boy named Billy did not care
for made up stories. He would listen, if they were sufficiently
exciting, but even stories of wolves and bears and tigers were
not very much worth while unless they were _really so_.
He wanted to know about the beginning of things, and what certain
days meant, and who started customs, and ever and ever so many
things that you’d never suppose a small boy would be interested
in.
So, I’ve been wondering if there are not many boys like Billy
who, also, like to know about things that are _really so_.
And so, I’ve written down a good many of the things Somebody and
the boy named Billy talked about after the lights were out and
the fireflies came, during that wonderful summer in the north
woods.
Your very own,
[Illustration: _Elizabeth Gordon_]
[Illustration: New Year’s Day ... long ago]