minutely. “To think of finding that on Story Island!” she exclaimed. At
the same time she felt a little pang of homesickness, but said nothing
about it.
“Now we must hasten home,” said the Story Lady.
As it was broad daylight, Mary Frances thought it rather strange to
hurry so, but just as they reached the castle, darkness fell and the
daylight went just as if some one had pressed a button and shut it out.
That evening while they were resting comfortably in their apartments,
the Story Lady related Tiny’s Adventures in Tinytown just as they are
set down here.
_Tiny Gets Lost_
Tiny was out in the woods hunting chestnuts, when a bird flew overhead,
a bright-colored bird.
Tiny saw the bird twice before she was certain it was a flicker.
At first it seemed like a golden streak of yellow as it flew by, but
when it rested on a low bush, she felt sure there wasn’t any yellow
about it. Instead, it was bluish-gray and brown. On its head was the
most beautiful crescent of red. Its throat was a warm leaf-brown,
specked with polka-dots of black.
[Illustration: JUST AT HER FEET LAY THE TINIEST LITTLE BIT OF A
TOWN]
“Strange!” thought Tiny, tiptoeing nearer and nearer. “Oh, no, it’s not
strange at all. Why, it’s a flicker--a golden-winged woodpecker. Its
wings are lined with yellow. Of course it looked like a yellow bird
when flying overhead.”
“Wick--wick--wick--wick--follow--me.” The bird flew on a little farther.
“I will catch up soon, birdie!” Tiny called, and hurried to the branch
where the bird was sitting.
“Wick--wick!” On and on it flew, Tiny following, when suddenly it
disappeared entirely, and there was Tiny miles out in the forest, and
not knowing the way back home at all. And not a single thing to eat,
either.
“My, now I am scared!--but I won’t cry! I’m nine years old, and I won’t
cry! I’ll look around and see if there isn’t something I can think to
do,” but a big tear blinded her eye.
“Where’s my handkerchief? Where ever did I put my handkerchief?” She
looked in her pocket. “But if I’m not going to cry, what do I need it
for?” she asked herself, and brushed away a big drop with the back of
her hand.
“Oh, oh, look!” Tiny laughed so that the woods echoed, and no wonder
she did--for just at her feet lay the tiniest little bit of a town with
real houses, no bigger than bird-houses; real people, too, not much
taller than pins; real street-lamps no bigger than pencils; real carts
no bigger than peanuts; real horses no bigger than katydids. In the
center of the town was a lovely little fountain. From the fountain,
walks led in four directions.
Houses and public buildings were along these walks; and scattered on
the green lawns were pretty flower-beds.
“Oh, what a lovely cottage!” cried Tiny, spying a beautiful little
house near the edge of the village.
“I’m going to pick it up! No, I’ll stoop down and look at it. People
may be inside. If I picked it up they might be hurt and frightened.”
She leaned over and examined it closely, but was careful not to step
into the town.
The walls were covered with vines, and geraniums bloomed at the
windows. Charming white curtains hung on the sashes, showing off the
brilliant color of the geraniums.
Smoke was coming out of the chimney.
“My, the people who live in that cottage must be getting supper!” The
little girl spoke softly to herself. “It seems to me I can smell it
cooking. What tiny little bits of dishes they must use--smaller than
the littlest ones I own. Why, an acorn would be almost large enough for
a bath tub for the house.”
Tiny laughed gayly at the idea.
“I’ll wait here for a minute or two to see if anybody comes out of the
door,” she said, taking a seat on the twisted roots of a nearby tree;
but, although she waited patiently for several minutes, no one appeared.
“How I wonder who lives in such a dear little home!” she thought. “It
must be fun to live in such a beautiful little house. My, isn’t the
whole town too sweet for anything! How I’d like to live there!”
She put her toe on the gravel walk which led across the tiny little
town, and, in a second she was no longer a big girl; she was as little
as a pin herself, only, of course, not so thin as a pin, but just the
right size for the house.
_Tiny is Put in the Lock-up_
Tiny rubbed her tiny little eyes with her tiny little hand, and looked
about her in amazement. She was very near the cottage she had so much
admired. “I’d love to peep in the windows,” she thought, “but it would
be so rude. I guess I’ll walk over toward the fountain.”
“Oh, here comes a hand-organ and a little monkey!” Tiny put her hand
in her pocket to find a penny, but all she found there were three
chestnuts, each no bigger than a period. “Poor little monkey!” said
Tiny as he came up to her, lifting his hat, “you must be tired. I
wonder if you’d like these nuts.”
The monkey smelled of the nuts, lifted his hat, looked at his master,
and nodding his thanks, began to eat them.
“He no tired,” said the Italian organ-grinder. “He work only two hours
a day.”
“Good!” said Tiny. “Does he play the rest of the day?”
“He play, play, play,” smiled the man, and passed down the street.
“My,” thought Tiny, as she walked along, “I wish I had taken some money
with me this morning. If I had a nickel, I’d buy some bananas from that
banana-man’s fruit-stand. I certainly am hungry.”
“Want banan’s?” inquired the man as she stood looking at his wares.
Tiny nodded. “I haven’t any money,” she said, trying to keep from
crying.
“Never mind,” smiled the man, “I had little girl once. She gone. She
die. I give banan’s you.” He handed her a half-dozen bananas no bigger
than pencil points.
“Oh, thank you,” said Tiny. “I’ll never forget how kind you are.”
But the man was on his way down the street before she finished.
She felt much better after eating and stood for quite a while watching
the little fountain play and splash.
Away in the distance she heard a dog bark, and at the edge of the
village she saw a tiny newsboy and with him a tiny dog, no bigger than
a capital letter. Under his arm he carried tiny newspapers no bigger
than postage stamps.
“Not much news in such a tiny paper!” thought Tiny, watching the
fountain splash. “Some day I’ll buy one to see what it says.”
Suddenly she realized it was getting dark; people passed by her and
went into the houses. She felt very lonely and a little frightened.
“Oh, dear,” she thought, “I do wonder where I’ll sleep to-night? I
wonder if it’s against the law to sleep on the park benches?” She went
over and sat down on one. “I guess I’ll try sleeping here, anyhow.”
She was just going to stretch out, when she saw a policeman coming
toward her just as fast as he could walk.
“Come, come!” he said. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you around here
before! What’s your name? Where do you live?”
“Please, Mr. Policeman”--Tiny tried to keep her voice from shaking--“my
name is Tiny and I’m lost.”
“Tiny! Tiny! Tiny what? What’s your other name?”
“They call me ‘Tiny girl’,” said Tiny.
“Tiny Girl!” grunted the policeman. “Girl! I’ve never heard of a Mr.
Girl or a Mrs. Girl around here! Oh, I know--I understand now--you’ve
run away from home--that’s what you’ve done!”
“Oh, no, sir,” began Tiny, but the policeman took her hand, and walked
toward the town hall.
“You’ll have to sleep over there to-night,” said he, pointing to the
building, “in care of the police matron; and in the morning we’ll see
what we can find out. Children that run away we always put in the
lock-up.”
They were inside the door now, and the policeman rapped three times on
the tiny table. Out came the police matron. Tiny thought she looked
rather severe.
“Matron,” said the policeman, “I found this little girl on one of the
park benches. She cannot tell me where she lives--she says she’s lost
and that her last name is Girl--Tiny Girl. You know there is no family
of the name of Girl in this whole town. Put her to sleep in a bed and
if anything turns up to-night to show who she is, I’ll let you know. In
the morning we’ll investigate. Good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Officer,” said the police matron.
“Come,” she said to Tiny, “let me wash you and comb your hair, and
give you some bread and milk. I’m certainly sorry such a little girl
should be a runaway. Your clothes show you have a careful mother.”
“I didn’t run away,” sobbed Tiny; “I tell you I didn’t!”
“How did you come here, then?” asked the matron, stopping combing her
hair.
“I was a big, real girl,” said Tiny, “and--and I was walking in the
woods, with my mother’s permission, when a bird flew ahead of me and
he beckoned me to come on. I wandered and wandered and I came to this
place. I stepped on the walk, and--and--and--I--melted into the tiny
little thing I am--so there! How I wish I had my mother----”
“Oh, what a story! What an awful story!” cried the police matron. “Stop
right away! We don’t allow children to tell lies here!”
“It’s not a story,” began Tiny, but the police matron dragged her to a
tiny bedroom, and undressed her and put her to bed.
“You will have your supper in bed,” said she, “then I’ll be sure of
where you are!” And she brought a bowl no bigger than a cherry-stone
full of bread and milk for Tiny’s supper.
At first Tiny couldn’t eat a mouthful, but she was really very hungry,
and finally she ate it all up.
“Mother will find me somehow,” she thought, as she slipped out of bed
and knelt to say her prayers.
_Tiny is Adopted_
The next morning Tiny was awakened by a knock at her door.
“Good morning,” smiled the police matron. “I have a delightful surprise
for you.”
“Good morning. What can it be?” cried Tiny. “Did my mother----?”
“You’ve nearly guessed,” nodded the police matron, helping her put on
her shoes and stockings. “You’re going to have a mother, for a dear old
lady--Mrs. Bountiful--wants to adopt you.”
“To adopt me? Why, I thought all adopted children lived in orphanages.”
“Oh, my, no!” exclaimed the police matron. “Children that run away are
often----”
“I didn’t run away!” Tiny stamped her tiny foot. “I tell you I didn’t.”
“Come, come,” said the police matron, “you don’t want me to tell your
new friend that you have a bad temper and tell stories.”
Tiny certainly did not, and as she was now washed and dressed she went
down-stairs with the police matron.
“Here she is, madam,” said the police matron very politely as she led
Tiny to where the dearest bit of an old lady was sitting.
“Oh, you dear child!” exclaimed the tiny lady. “You’ve had no
breakfast, have you?”
“I just got up,” whispered Tiny, not liking to let her think that the
matron had been neglectful.
“Well, well,” smiled the little old lady, “we’ll soon see to that. I
have my automobile outside. Good-by, Mrs. Matron.” And taking Tiny by
the hand she went out.
“This is my son,” said the little old lady, as they walked up to the
car. “He can drive an automobile beautifully. Shake hands with Tiny,
Martin.”
“How do you do?”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Martin, lifting his tiny cap.
“Let us drive right home,” said his mother. “This dear little girl
hasn’t had any breakfast.” They climbed in, and away Martin drove, down
the street through the village park, past the fountain, over to the
edge of the village, up to--where do you think?--right up in front of
the cottage which Tiny had first seen in the little village.
“Oh, isn’t it a beau-ti-ful home!” she cried.
“How glad we are that you like it,” said the little lady. “Welcome to
Rose Cottage.”
“Walk--right--in--Welcome--to--Rose--Cottage,” cried a new voice as
they entered. It was a shrill, nasal voice.
Tiny looked around, but saw no one. “Look! I’m--right--here,” cried the
voice again.
The little lady laughed. “All right, Polly,” she called, and Tiny saw
in one corner of the room a pretty green-and-red-and-yellow poll-parrot.
She wanted to go nearer and pet him, but his mistress hurried her to
the breakfast table.
“Let--us--take--a drive,” called out Polly presently.
“Why, yes, let us. Shall we go now, Martin?” asked Mrs. Bountiful.
“Yes, Mother,” smiled the big boy.
“Take--us--all,” called Polly,
“Take--us--all--don’t--forget--the--monk.”
“Why,” asked Tiny, who had been very quiet, “what does he mean?”
“He means,” laughed the little lady, “that we take Martin’s pet monkey
and Polly for a drive quite often--and they are both very much spoiled.”
“Oh, how lovely!” cried Tiny. “Have you a monkey, too?”
Martin brought the monkey, and his mother took the parrot, and they all
got into the automobile.
“Where do we go first, Mother?” asked Martin.
“Will you excuse me, dear,” the little lady asked, “if I whisper? I
want to surprise you.”
Tiny nodded and smiled, as his mother leaned over to reach Martin’s ear.
They drove along the park and over into the business part of the
village, up to the livery-stables and stopped.
“Good morning, ma’am,” the liveryman said.
“Bring him out,” nodded the little lady, and the man disappeared into
the stables.
Soon he led out the dearest little brown-and-white Shetland pony--no
bigger than a cricket.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Tiny. “I’d like to kiss him!”
The little old lady laughed delightedly.
“He’s yours,” she cried. “Get out and try to ride him.”
Martin helped her into the wee saddle, the liveryman gave her a tiny
whip and the pony cantered all the way down the street and back again.
“Oh, I never thought I’d own a real live pony,” sighed Tiny, patting
the little thing’s neck. “It seems too good to be true.”
“Let us go down to the candy shop,” said Tiny’s fairy godmother.
The candy shop wasn’t far away and when they drew up outside, Martin
fastened the pony to the lamp-post. The little old lady took Tiny into
the shop.
“Here, dear,” she said, opening her purse, “are two dollars. Spend them
both. You can have all the candy and ice cream you want.”
So Tiny ate five plates of ice cream and three boxes of candy.
“It was splendid,” she said to the little lady when they’d gotten home.
“I’d like to kiss you for all these lovely times.”
“I’m so glad, dear motherless child,” said the little lady with tears
in her eyes.
“But I’m not motherless--” began Tiny.
“There, there, we’ll forget about that,” interrupted her new mother.
That night she tucked Tiny into bed quite early.
I must tell you about Tiny’s bedroom. All the woodwork and furniture
were white. On the floor was a rose-colored carpet, with a border
of pink and white roses and green leaves. At the windows were white
curtains with pink roses along each edge. On the little white bureau
was a tiny set of golden brushes and combs and boxes and bottles, and
in a gold vase on the dressing-table was a very beautiful bouquet of
tiny real roses.
Everything was so sweet that Tiny used up nearly every word of praise
she knew, and she fell asleep before the little lady had finished
tucking her in bed.
It must have been near midnight when Tiny was awakened very suddenly by
an awful pain.
She cried out loudly for her mother.
The little lady hastened to her room.
“You poor dear!” she cried. “Martin shall go immediately for Doctor
Curum.”
Martin was back with the doctor before Tiny realized he had started.
“Well, well,” said the doctor, looking Tiny over, “this young lady has
been having too good a time--eh?”
“Oh, Doctor,” cried the little old lady, “will she die? It is my fault.
I gave her too much candy.”
“Don’t worry,” smiled the doctor, quickly opening his case. “These
medicines will cure her.”
“I will stay with you, dear,” said the little lady, after seeing the
doctor to the door.
Tiny soon fell asleep and did not wake until early daylight.
“My, I feel all right,” she thought, stretching her little arms over
her head. “How glad I am! But what smells so queer? I believe it’s
smoke! Oh, it is! Something’s on fire!”
She sprang out of bed. The little lady had fallen asleep in the tiny
white rocking-chair on the other side of Tiny’s bed. She looked so
sweet in her rose kimono with a sweet smile on her lips, that Tiny
hadn’t the heart to waken her.
“How tired she must be,” thought Tiny. “I’ll find out where the fire is
first.”
She slipped into her clothes, and was soon out-of-doors. She saw
immediately where the fire was--over on the next avenue, where smoke
and flame were coming out of the roof of a building.
[Illustration: THE PONY CANTERED ALL THE WAY DOWN THE STREET]
_Tiny Discovers a Fire_
“Oh, oh,” thought Tiny, “what shall I do? I know!” as she spied the
pony in the stable where Martin had put him the night before. “I’ll
ride over to the fire-house and tell them, and then I’ll ride to the
house and warn the people.”
“Do your best, Love Trot,” she whispered to the dappled pony.
He pricked up his ears, and picked up his feet, and in no time to speak
of Tiny was at the fire-house.
Just as she reached the door, a big dog (at least it seemed big to
Tiny, for it was almost the size of Love Trot) came around the corner
of the building. He raised up his head and barked as he ran toward her.
Tiny was so scared that she quickly jumped on the pony and was going to
ride away, when a window of the fire-house opened and a man called out:
“Don’t be afraid, little girl, that’s Big Jim, the fire dog. He helps
with all the fires. He won’t bite you. Lie down, Jim.”
Jim spread himself down at the pony’s side, wagged his tail, and looked
up at Tiny with big brown eyes which seemed to say he was sorry he
frightened her.
She soon explained her errand and was riding at full speed to the house
that was on fire.
Down the street clanged the engine drawn by the beautiful little
fire horses. Then came the hose-wagon, and then all the firemen with
the ladders, and Big Jim, who was riding as though he were the most
important member of the fire company.
Meanwhile, the little lady awoke. She sniffed the air and opened her
eyes.
“Tiny,” she said, “how are you, dear? It seems to me I smell smoke.
Doesn’t it to you?”
She looked at the bed.
“Where has the child gone?” she cried. “All her clothes are gone, too!”
“Martin! Martin!” she called. “Martin, get right up, and go to the
police station in the town hall. Tiny has run away--has run away again!”
“All right, Mother,” answered Martin from his room. “I’m already
dressed, I’ll ride the pony right over there.” But Trot was gone, and
Martin ran all the way.
“Why, why didn’t you take your automobile and chase after her?” asked
the policeman when Martin told him the story. “That’s the best thing to
do now. I’d go help you--but I’m needed at the fire. You’d better start
right away, you don’t want to lose any time.”
“Oh, yes,” answered Martin, “I know. I know. I’ll go right home and
take out the car--but where do you think I had better chase to first?”
“Inquire of the first person you meet,” called out the policeman.
Martin and his mother were soon in the car, but there were few people
on the street, as nearly all had gone to the fire.
“Drive on a way,” said the distracted little lady. “Drive anywhere.
It’s better than sitting still.”
They hadn’t gone very far before they saw Tiny riding Trot toward them.
“Were you worried?” she called, hailing them from a distance. “I went
to the fire-house to warn them of the fire.” She explained it all to
them as she came up to the car; how she wakened, and smelled the smoke,
and how she didn’t like to waken the little lady, and how she saw Trot
fastened in the stable, and how she rode him to the fire-house.
“Dear, dear girlie,” said the little lady. “How brave you are! I’m so
glad you didn’t run away again.”
“I never ran away,” answered Tiny. “I never, never ran away!”
“We know you did once, dear,” said the little lady; “but we’re trying
to forget that.”
XIX
TINY HAS MORE ADVENTURES
“IT seems to me,” said the little lady, a few days after the fire,
“that it would be nice for you to start in school, Tiny dear. I met
Miss Spectacles yesterday, and she asked me whether I was not going to
send you soon. ‘I don’t want the truant officer to inquire into the
case,’ she explained.”
“Oh, nothing could please me better!” exclaimed Tiny. “I love you
dearly, but it would just be splendid to know some children.”
Martin and the little lady took Tiny in the automobile to the
schoolhouse, which was the most delightful school building Tiny could
imagine. It stood on the center of a green lawn. All kinds of swings
and games were arranged in the playgrounds. The little lady introduced
Tiny to her teacher.
“I’m glad to have so brave a child under my care,” smiled Miss
Spectacles, “for I’ve heard all about Tiny and the fire.”
Tiny blushed and stood on one foot. “It didn’t seem very brave to me,”
she said, “but I’m glad you think you’ll like me.”
After the little lady had gone, the teacher showed Tiny to a desk
and gave her lesson-books. Tiny studied the lessons well, and when
recess-time came was quite ready for play.
The children stared at her a good deal, for no doubt they too had heard
about the fire, and many had seen her on her pony; but she was so
friendly in her manner that the girls soon overcame their shyness and
began to talk with her.
There was one particularly pretty girl who was especially nice to Tiny,
and gave her half her apple to eat. There was another little girl
whose mother combed her hair in one braid at the back of her head.
Just as she started to talk with Tiny, one of the boys came along, and
pulled the little girl’s hair.
“Hello, Piggy,” he said. “Hello, Piggy. Piggy-wiggy, Piggy-wiggy.”
“Oh, dear,” said the little girl, “I do wish they wouldn’t call me
names.”
“For shame!” Tiny called to the boy. “It is dreadfully rude for you to
call names. I won’t like you one bit if you call names.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the boy. “I don’t care! Piggy-wiggy wears a pig-tail.”
“Never mind, dear,” said Tiny. “I believe I can make him stop.”
Then the bell rang.
After school Tiny went to the boy. “Listen,” she said, “what’ll you
take to stop calling names?”
“What’ll I take?” repeated the boy.
“Yes,” said Tiny, “will you promise to stop if I give you ten cents?”
“Nope,” said the boy. “It’s too much fun.”
“Will you take a quarter?”
“Nope.”
“Well,” said Tiny, “that’s all I have. I spent all the rest of my money
for ice cream and cake.”
“Say,” said the boy, “are you offering for honest?”
“Certainly,” said Tiny.
“Well, then, I’ll take a ride on your pony to stop. How about that?”
“Oh--” began Tiny, “I----”
“I’ll always call her Piggy if you don’t,” said the boy.
“How far?” asked Tiny.
“Far’s I want to go,” answered the boy.
“I’ll let you know to-morrow,” said Tiny, for that was the last thing
she wanted to pay, and she was worried.
“I’m afraid school doesn’t agree with our Tiny,” said the little lady
to Martin that evening, “she is so quiet.”
Tiny, who was playing the pretty white piano, turned.
“I was thinking, dear lady,” she said, and she told of Piggy-wiggy.
“Humph,” said Martin. “That’s easy. Let me know who that fellow is and
I’ll stop him.”
“Can’t you manage better than that, son?” asked his mother. “Why not
let the boy ride Trot when you and Tiny are nearby in the car, and can
see that he is treated right?”
“That’s a splendid idea,” cried Tiny, kissing the little lady. “Will
you, Martin? I know the boy is just crazy to ride the pony.”
So a plan was agreed upon, and the boy did have a ride on Love Trot,
and he did stop calling the little girl names, and Tiny had the joy of
knowing she had made two people happy.
_Tiny Saves a Baby’s Life_
“Tiny,” said the little lady after school the next day, “don’t you want
to run over to the grocery shop and get some sugar for the pudding?”
“Indeed I do,” laughed Tiny; “there’s nothing I like better than
pudding, you know.”
The grocerman was very pleasant and Tiny noticed he gave her extra good
weight.
“Shall I send it home for you, Miss?” he asked as his grocery wagon
drove up.
“No, thank you,” said Tiny, “I’ll carry it,” and the wagon drove on.
As Tiny reached the corner, she saw a baby toddling across the street.
“I wonder that baby’s mother lets it go out alone,” thought Tiny.
[Illustration: SHE RAN AS FAST AS SHE COULD AND WAS JUST IN TIME TO
DRAG THE BABY OUT OF THE WAY OF THE WAGON]
Just at that minute the grocer’s horse and wagon dashed around the
corner. Tiny saw in a moment what would happen if somebody didn’t run
to the baby, so dropping her bag of sugar, which burst open and spread
all over the ground, she ran as fast as she could and was just in the
nick of time to drag the baby out of the way of the wagon.
“Bless me! Bless me!” panted the policeman, running up. “I hurried as
fast as I could. If it hadn’t been for this little girl,” he continued
to the baby’s mother, who was now crying, “that baby would---- Why,
it’s the little girl that ran away! How do you do?”