“Well, well,” said the policeman, “I guess we can begin to forget it by
this time. After the fire warning and this----” But Tiny was hurrying
away to the store to get more sugar.
“I do hope they won’t worry at home,” she thought.
“That’s the girl,” said the grocer’s boy as Tiny went into the store.
“She was just in time.”
He had been telling about the near-accident.
The grocer couldn’t thank Tiny enough for saving the baby’s life, and
he asked her to ride in the grocery wagon so that she would get home
sooner.
“I was so afraid you would worry, dear lady,” she said as she told the
story, “and I spilled all the sugar--every bit.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so thankful you were not hurt,” said the little lady,
“that I would give a hundred bags of sugar--you, dear brave little
heroine,” as she took her on her lap.
“My mother,” began Tiny, “was something like you and----”
“Hush, dear,” said the little lady, smoothing her hair.
“You like to go to school, don’t you?” she asked to change the subject.
“My, I never enjoyed school so much in all my life,” said Tiny.
“Oh, you used to go, of course, didn’t you?”
“Always,” said Tiny, “my father was--” and her voice began to sound
full of tears.
“Strange,” said the little lady to herself. “Very strange why she ran
away. Maybe we’ll find out some day. I’ll inquire again if the police
have found out anything more about her.”
_Tiny Goes Shopping_
The next morning Tiny took her pig-bank from the mantel and began to
count her money.
“Wasn’t your mother dear to give me all this spending money, Martin?”
said Tiny to Martin as he came into the room. “I do wonder how much
there is; won’t you please help me count it?”
“Seven dollars and eighteen cents,” counted Martin, laying down the
last coin. “My! that’s a lot of money, Tiny. What are you going to do
with it?”
“Oh, Martin, don’t tell, please. Oh, it must be a secret! I do want it
to be a surprise!”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me,” said Martin; “but what’s the
secret?”
“Why, Saturday is your mother’s birthday, and I’m going to buy her a
present.”
“Grand. What will you buy?” he asked.
“I really don’t know,” said Tiny, “but I’m going shopping this
afternoon after school. I’ve had permission to get out early, because I
told Miss Spectacles about the surprise.”
“Wasn’t that kind of her!” said Martin.
“People are often kinder than they seem,” said Tiny.
Just as she put the bank in its place on the mantel, Mrs. Bountiful
came in. “Why, dear,” said she, “what a saving little girl you are; I
haven’t given you any money in a long time; here is a dollar.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Tiny, “but you have been so good to me, I don’t
like----”
“Never mind, dear,” said the little lady. “Come, it’s time to go to
school.”
“I’ll be ready in a minute, as soon as I get my books.”
“Here is a banana for recess,” said Mrs. Bountiful, following her and
kissing her good-by.
On her way out as Tiny passed the mantel, she quickly slipped her bank
into her school-bag.
“Good-by, all,” said she.
She could scarcely wait for the time to come for her to go shopping,
and it seemed almost a week until Miss Spectacles nodded her head that
she might be dismissed.
On her way to the store, she would put her hand in her school-bag every
once in a while to see if the bank was safe.
She had been to the Globe Department Store with Mrs. Bountiful more
than once.
“What shall I buy?” she thought.
Just then she noticed a cute little china cat. She picked it up.
“That’s certainly cute,” she thought, “but not very useful,” so she
put it down and picked up a little stuffed dog. “Neither is that,” she
concluded and put it down.
“Do you wish anything?” asked the saleslady politely.
“No, thank you,” replied Tiny.
She picked up several funny little images, and was so much interested
that she did not notice that any one was near until she heard a voice,
a man’s voice, speaking to the saleslady in an undertone: “I’ve been
watching that child for some time, Miss Sellum; please keep an eye on
her.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’d take anything, Mr. Knockem,” replied the girl.
Tiny looked around. No one was in sight except the pretty saleslady and
a tall, haughty-looking man.
“I wonder who they mean?” thought Tiny. “Oh, they must mean me because
I touched those things,” and she burst into tears.
“I never stole anything in my life--not a single--thing--ever,” she
sobbed. “I’m Mrs. Bountiful’s--little--girl----”
“Mercy!” exclaimed Miss Sellum.
“Pardon me, Miss,” begged the floor-walker--for that was who Mr.
Knockem was, and right scared he was, too, for Mrs. Bountiful was
one of their best customers. “I didn’t mean any harm. Can I be of
assistance to you?”
“Why, sir,” said Tiny, drying her eyes, “it’s all right--I shouldn’t
have touched anything, I know, but--I’m trying to select a present for
Mrs. Bountiful’s birthday. It comes Saturday, you see----”
“Oh, that’s it, that’s it, is it?” asked a new voice. It was so kind,
and full of joy that Tiny knew she’d like its owner before she looked
up at the kindly, bald-headed gentleman who had joined them.
“Leave the little miss to me, Mr. Knockem,” he said.
“Oh, certainly, Mr. Storem; certainly, sir,” said the floor-walker.
“Well, my dear,” said the stout gentleman, “I believe I can help you.
I know Mrs. Bountiful quite well. The other day she was in the store
inquiring for vanity hand-bags.”
“The kind all filled with golden powder boxes, and mirrors, and coin
holders?” asked Tiny eagerly.
“Yes,” smiled Mr. Storem, “and here they are at this counter. Miss
Prettyman, will you show those bags to Miss----”
“My name is Tiny, sir,” said the little girl, much pleased with the
lady, who brought several bags for her to see.
“How much is this?” she asked, selecting a charming violet one, lined
with dainty flowered silk.
“Five dollars,” said Miss Prettyman. “I’ve sold bags for years, but I
never saw so lovely a one at that price.”
“I’ll take that, please,” said Tiny, reaching into her school-bag for
her bank.
“Oh, dear,” she cried, “how am I going to get the money out of my pig?”
You should have heard Mr. Storem laugh. “Well, well,” he said, “I guess
I’ll have to help you.”
So he helped Tiny “fish” out the five dollars.
Just then some one called him away.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Miss Tiny,” he said.
When the cash girl returned with the parcel, the saleslady handed it
over to Tiny just as if she were grown up.
“Gee,” exclaimed the cash girl, “ain’t she swell, Miss Prettyman, with
the owner of the store escorting her around!”
“Is he? Does he own this store?” asked Tiny, wide-eyed.
“Yes, Miss Tiny,” said Miss Prettyman.
Just at that moment Mr. Storem returned.
“Is there anything else, Miss Tiny?”
“Oh, I don’t like to trouble you, sir,” began Tiny.
“Tut! Tut! Don’t mention it, little one,” said he. “The gentleman
who just called me told me you are the little girl who warned the
people about the fire, and saved the baby’s life. It is an honor to do
anything to help you.”
Tiny blushed. “Thank you. Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, please
show me where I can get some beads to make a necklace for Mrs.
Bountiful.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Storem. “Right this way.”
Tiny selected some beautiful beads, and Mr. Storem helped her again in
getting the money from her bank.
“Mrs. Bountiful will love the necklace if I make it,” she said. “She
told me it is the kindness and the thought more than the costliness of
a gift that counts. My own mother always----”
“Your own mother!” exclaimed Mr. Storem. “Your own! Isn’t Mrs.
Bountiful your mother?”
“Why, no, sir,” exclaimed Tiny.
“I read it in the Tinytown News. I read about a little girl who ran
away,” interrupted Mr. Storem.
“I didn’t,” said Tiny. “I didn’t run away, but nobody believes me.”
“I do, dear,” smiled the big man. “I do!” and Tiny loved him for it.
“Good-by!” she said, “and thank you! Thank you more than I can tell
you.”
It was rather late when she reached Rose Cottage, but the little lady
had been called out to see a sick neighbor, so she was able to hide her
gifts away. Finally Saturday came. Tiny wrapped her gifts in tissue
paper and tied them with blue ribbon, and laid them on the breakfast
table at Mrs. Bountiful’s place.
The little lady was delighted. She opened the bag and took out the
purse and powder box and examined them and looked at herself in the
mirror.
“Oh, you made the necklace yourself? Isn’t it lovely, my dear?” she
sighed. “You are just such a darling, loving, thoughtful little girl as
I always dreamed of for my own daughter.”
“Put on your finery, Mother,” said Martin, handing her the bag and
throwing the necklace over her head.
“My present,” exclaimed Martin, “is in my room,” and, excusing himself,
he brought a pretty hand-carved tea-table.
“I made it for you myself, Mother.”
“Was there ever such a happy old lady as I!” cried Mrs. Bountiful,
putting her arms around both the children.
“Was there ever one who gave other people so much happiness?” asked
Tiny.
_Tiny’s Mother Finds Her_
“I wish I could tell mother about everything,” thought Tiny as she
walked along the road to school. “My, what perfectly lovely times I
have had, and how dear the little lady is; but I do miss mother. How
frightened she must be!”
A tear dropped from her eye.
“I won’t cry, though,” she thought. “Mother surely will find me! I know
she’s looking everywhere!”
Just then she noticed a tiny little bird in the branches of the tree
overhead.
“Wick--wick!” he sang.
“Oh, you pretty little thing,” cried Tiny.
The bird flew to a low bush, Tiny following. On and on they went, until
Tiny was surprised to find herself at the end of the town.
“Why, I’m almost lost again,” she thought, “I better turn back.”
“Wick--wick!” sang the bird, as he alighted on a tree just outside the
town.
To Tiny’s amazement, he was no longer a little bird, but the same big
golden-winged woodpecker that she had followed into the forest when
she left home. She was just about to run after him when a shadow fell
across the roadway and she looked up.
“Mother!” she cried. “Oh, Mother!”
For the shadow was that of her mother who had gone out into the woods
to look for her.
She stretched out her tiny little arms, but she was so very small her
mother didn’t see her.
“Oh, Mother, here I am,” she cried, running toward her.
She stepped off the edge of Tinytown, and in a second she was her own
self again, as big as ever.
How she laughed and cried and hugged and kissed her mother. Then she
told all about Tinytown--just as I’ve told you, and showed her the
lovely little Rose Cottage, the town hall, the school house, the
church, the fire-engine house and the shops.
“Mother, they were all so perfectly dear to me I hate to leave them,”
she said.
“Why, Tiny, girl,” laughed her mother, “we can visit Tinytown again,
now we know where it is--then you can always keep your friends.”
“Yes, and I can explain to them, Mother dear, how they were mistaken,
and I didn’t run away.”
But when Tiny and her mother came to look for it a few days later,
Tinytown was gone. The Story People had taken it for their own.
[Illustration: “MOTHER!” SHE CRIED. “OH, MOTHER!”]
* * * * *
“What a sweet story!” exclaimed Mary Frances, when the Story Lady
finished.
“Yes, it is a sweet story,” she returned, “and we were so glad to get
it, and the town, too. It shows our children how the children of other
countries live.”
“Aren’t you tired after telling so many stories?” asked Mary Frances.
“Oh, no, I never grow tired of hearing and telling stories; but I like
to hear you talk. Won’t you tell me something from your country?”
“Yes--let me see. All I can think of is a little poem about a robin and
a buttercup.”
“Do let me hear it.”
So she recited--
THE ROBIN AND THE BUTTERCUP[B]
Down in the field, one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
Save one, who tried to hide herself,
And drooped that pleasant weather.
A robin, who had flown too high,
And felt a little lazy,
Was resting near a buttercup,
Who wished she were a daisy.
For daisies grow so trig and tall!
She always had a passion
For wearing frills around her neck,
In just the daisies’ fashion.
And buttercups must always be
The same old tiresome color;
While daisies dress in gold and white,
Although their gold is duller.
“Dear Robin,” said the sad young flower,
“Perhaps you’d not mind trying
To find a nice white frill for me,
Some day when you are flying?”
“You silly thing!” the robin said,
“I think you must be crazy;
I’d rather be my honest self
Than any made-up daisy.
“You’re nicer in your own bright gown,
The little children love you;
Be the best buttercup you can,
And think no flower above you.
“Though swallows leave me out of sight,
We’d better keep our places;
Perhaps the world would go all wrong,
With one too many daisies.
“Look bravely up into the sky,
And be content with knowing
That God wished for a buttercup
Just here, where you are growing.”
[B] Sarah Orne Jewett.
“Oh, thank you,” said the Story Lady, “I like that. You must write it
down for me. To-morrow you shall have a lot of stories.”
STORIES TOLD THE SECOND DAY
THE MAGIC MASK.--THE CLOSING DOOR.--TOM GOES DOWN THE
WELL.--GLOOMY GUS AND THE CHRISTMAS CAT.--PATTY AND HER PITCHER.
STORIES TOLD THE SECOND DAY
XX
THE MAGIC MASK
WHEN all the Story People were assembled, the Story King in his place,
Mary Frances in the seat of honor beside the Story Queen, the Ready
Writer at his table with pen in hand, the Story Lady began to tell one
story after another. Even the clock ticked softly, as if listening, and
no sound was heard except the sweet music of her voice as it ran from
story to story, until five in all were told.
* * * * *
Many years ago, a little prince was born in a rich country across
the sea. He had long been wished for, and great was the rejoicing
throughout the land when he came.
As you may suppose, he was given everything he wanted. Indeed, if he
were denied anything for a moment, he would set up so great a cry that
the servants would run in haste to bring him what he desired; and if he
were opposed by any one he would frown and stamp his foot, and throw
himself into such a rage that his whole face would become ugly and
distorted, and the little children would run in fear from him.
When he grew up, he delighted to fight; and nothing pleased him better
than to put on his armor and helmet and ride forth at the head of his
army.
He won many, many victories, and his country grew richer and stronger
than it had ever been before.
By and by the time came when his father, the king, died, and the prince
took his place. Then he wished for a queen, and began to think of a
beautiful princess he had met in one of the cities which he ruled over.
And the more he thought about her, the more anxious he was that she
should become his wife. No one else was half so fair and lovely to his
eyes.
So one day, he made up his mind to go to see the princess. He bade his
servants deck him out in regal splendor, and put on him his royal robes
and his jeweled crown.
“How do I look?” he asked his valet. “Did I ever appear more handsome?”
“Oh, no, your majesty,” replied the valet. “If you will look in the
long mirror, you will see that.”
When the king looked in the glass, he saw a wonderful reflection.
His robe was of velvet and satin in royal purple and green, jeweled,
trimmed, and embroidered--nothing was wanting in the costume. Then he
saw his own face--all seamed with frowns and hard, cruel lines.
“Oh,” he thought, “such a face will frighten the lovely princess! What
shall I do? She will never be willing to marry me!”
And he sent all his servants away, and sat down in a fit of melancholy;
or, as some people say, “in a fit of the blues.”
For hours he just sat and glowered. Once a page approached him to say
that his luncheon was served, but he told him to be gone before he
ordered his head chopped off. You can imagine how fast the page ran
away. When the page told the other servants, they said, “We must not go
near him until he rings for us when he comes out of his angry mood.”
After a while the bell did ring, and in fear and trembling the valet
went to see what the king wished.
“Tell the groom to saddle my best steed and have it at the palace steps
within ten minutes, and do you undress me and put me in my riding
suit.”
Quickly the change was made, quickly the horse was saddled, quickly the
king was mounted and riding away.
“No!” he thundered, when the groom rode up to attend him on his
journey. “No one comes with me! I ride alone!”
Through forest and dale, through valley, stream, and over stubble
the king rode, on, and on, and on, until he came to the home of the
enchanter, Herlo.
Thrice he knocked at the door, and a deep voice bade him enter.
“Good-day, Enchanter,” said the king, lifting the latch and entering;
“I have come on a most important errand.”
“I know your errand,” replied Herlo; “you wish to gain the princess
Viola for a wife, and you fear she will not love you enough to marry
you.”
“How can she, when she sees my face?” said the king. “I have come to
ask your help. Is there anything you can do for me?”
The enchanter stopped to think, then he raised his head and told the
king, “Yes; I have a plan, but it needs your own help. I can change
your features if you will do as I tell you.”
The king was very glad, and he promised to do everything the enchanter
bade him do.
“Very well,” said Herlo. “I will make you a magic mask of thinnest wax.
It will be exactly the shape of your face, and no one will know that
you are wearing it except yourself. I will paint it with my magic paint
so that your features will look kind and pleasant, instead of fierce
and stern. I will fasten it upon your face so that you need never take
it off.”
“Make it”--said the king, “as handsome and attractive as you possibly
can, and I will pay you any price you ask.”
“This I can do only with your help,” Herlo explained; “only on this one
condition--that you keep your own face in exactly the lines I shall
paint. One angry frown or one cruel smile will crack the mask apart and
ruin it, and I can never replace it.”
Now the king wanted the princess for his queen more than anything else
he had ever wished for, so he said, “Yes, I promise. Tell me what I
shall do to keep the mask from cracking.”
“You must not lose your temper,” the enchanter told him. “You must
think kind thoughts. You must try to make your people happy. You must
help them, not by fighting, but by building libraries and schools and
hospitals. You must see that there are none of your subjects in want;
you must try to relieve all suffering, even of animals. You must follow
this rule:
Help the weak if you are strong;
Love the old if you are young;
Own a fault if you are wrong;
When you’re angry, hold your tongue.
“Call here again within ten days, and the mask will be ready. Good-by.”
So the king rode away with happiness in his heart.
The ten days passed slowly enough, and he could scarcely wait for the
last day to come. Early in the morning, he again rode alone to the home
of the enchanter.
The magic mask was ready, and Herlo tried it on the king’s face. It
fitted exactly, but it transformed his countenance. Gone was the ugly
scowl; gone, the frown between his eyes; gone, the thin, straight,
sullen lips. In their stead were pleasant smiles; and kind, tender
eyes; and merciful, unselfish lips.
And again the king rode away with happiness in his heart, for Herlo had
shown him his face in a glass.
The next day, he rode with his retinue of courtiers to the home of the
lovely princess, and she thought him all that could be desired, and
promised to be his wife.
And one wonderful day in the springtime they were married. Two years
sped quickly away in great joy and happiness, for the princess found
her husband to be even more kind and forbearing than she had thought
he would be. The servants never could understand what had happened to
change the king. Instead of being frightened by his presence, they were
only too glad to serve him, and his royal household was the happiest in
the world.
[Illustration: THE MAGIC MASK WAS READY, AND HERLO TRIED IT ON THE
KING’S FACE]
You would think that the king would have then been satisfied, wouldn’t
you? But he was not quite satisfied, for one thing troubled him.
When the queen would smile in approval of his kindness, and his
self-control, he would think, “I wish I had not deceived my dear wife.
I wish she knew my own self.”
At last he could bear it no longer, and so one day he rode for the
third time to the home of the enchanter, Herlo. And again Herlo met him
at the door. The king said:
“O Herlo, I have come to you to ask you to take back your magic mask.
I cannot wear it any longer, because I cannot bear to deceive my dear
wife who thinks me so kind and good. Better the truth than to deceive
so true and kind a person as my queen.”
“I warn you,” replied Herlo, “that if I once take off the magic mask,
you can never have it replaced. Think carefully before I remove it.”
“Yes,” said the king, “I know, and I have weighed the question
carefully. It is better to be my own true self than to live behind a
false face. Better that the queen should despise me than to live under
false pretenses and have her love when unworthy.”
So the enchanter took off the mask, and bade the king good-speed.
You can imagine how the king felt as he rode home this time; how he
dreaded looking into his glass, although he knew he must do so before
he entered the presence of the queen; and how he feared that what he
most prized in this world was about to be lost--his wife’s loving trust
in him.
But can you imagine his joy when he looked into the glass and saw his
own face--for his own face was handsomer than the mask! The ugly frown
and the wicked, cruel lines were gone, for his face had been molded
into the exact likeness of the mask; and when he came into the presence
of his wife she saw no difference in him. He was the husband she had
always so much honored and loved.
* * * * *
“And they lived happily ever after,” finished the Story Lady. Then
after a slight pause, she went on: “Now we will have a little goblin
story.”
XXI
THE CLOSING DOOR
THERE was once a little girl, who had a dear little room, all her own,
which was full of treasures, and was as lovely as love could make it.
You never could imagine, no matter how you tried, a room more beautiful
than hers; for it was white and shining from the snowy floor to the
ceiling, which looked as if it might have been made of a fleecy cloud.
The curtains at the windows were like the petals of a lily, and the
little bed was like swan’s down.
There were white pansies, too, that bloomed in the windows, and a dove
whose voice was sweet as music; and among her treasures she had a
string of pearls which she was to wear about her neck when the king of
the country sent for her, as he had promised to do some day.
This string of pearls grew longer and more beautiful as the little girl
grew older, for a new pearl was given her as soon as she waked up each
morning; and every one was a gift from this king, who bade her keep
them fair.
Her mother helped her to take care of them and of all the other
beautiful things in her room. Every morning, after the new pearl was
slipped on the string, they would set the room in order; and every
evening they would look over the treasures and enjoy them together,
while they carefully wiped away any specks of dust that had gotten in
during the day and made the room less lovely.
There were several doors and windows, which the little girl could open
and shut just as she pleased, in this room; but there was one door
which was always open, and that was the one which led into her mother’s
room.
No matter what Little Daughter was doing, she was happier if her mother
was near; and, although she sometimes ran away into her own room and
played by herself, she always bounded out at her mother’s first call,
and sprang into her mother’s arms, gladder than ever to be with her
because she had been away.
Now one day when the little girl was playing alone, she had a visitor
who came in without knocking and who seemed, at first, very much out
of place in the shining white room, for he was a goblin and as black
as a lump of coal. He had not been there more than a very few minutes,
however, before nearly everything in the room began to look more like
him and less like driven snow; and although the little girl thought
that he was very strange and ugly when she first saw him, she soon grew
used to him, and found him an entertaining playfellow.
She wanted to call her mother to see him; but he said: