lived in England, where the happy cats are, and the pies.'
'And first he says will she marry him, and then he says he doesn't
want to?' repeated April, to whom this conduct appeared extraordinary.
'Oh, she didn't care much, and only laughed at him when he went away.'
'Does you _like_ that man, mummy?' asked June.
'Not much,' said the mother.
'I too not much,' said June with decision, 'I too not much at all.'
But June and the other two babies thought all male beings inferior
creatures, because they had only met one boy in their lives, and they
had been able to knock him down. Of course they saw distant boys from
time to time, when they passed the end of the village street or were
at the seaside, but there was only one boy for them to play with,
the families within reach happening to be made up of girls. This
boy had come to tea with his mother on his first introduction into
their midst, and after tea, and while the two mothers sat on a sofa
watching their children, and each one thinking how much nicer _hers_
were, the babies said, 'Now we shall play.'
'Come, boy,' said June, seizing his arm as he showed no signs of
moving, 'come--does you hear? We shall play.'
'I never play with little girls,' said the boy.
The babies stared. 'Why not?' they asked.
'They're much too stupid. They can't be soldiers when they grow up,
and can't fight. I'm going to be a soldier, and fight everybody, and
kill them too.' And he marched up and down the room with his head up
and his shoulders back, making bloodthirsty lunges at the babies as
he passed.
'Quite a little man you see,' whispered the delighted mamma on the
sofa.
'I shall be one soldier too!' exclaimed June, fired with enthusiasm:
and she began to march by his side.
'You can't, you silly, you're only a girl.'
'Oh, that doesn't matter!' she cried, with her usual airiness.
'Well you _are_ a silly,' said the boy, with immense contempt.
'_You_ is one silly!' cried June, giving him a mighty push.
He rolled over at once, for though he was bigger than she was, and
older, he wasn't half as compact and determined; and she lost no time
in sitting on him and jumping up and down violently,--this being, as
I have said, a favourite form of vengeance. And as no one can respect
a person they have knocked down and jumped on, and as the conclusion
was that all boys must be alike, the babies, especially June, thought
them a decidedly inferior set.
'Tuck up your dress, April,' said the mother. 'You shall be the young
man, and June the pretty maid. Come, we'll go to the piano and I'll
teach you to act it. May can look on and clap.'
The babies wore blue dresses with blue knickerbockers underneath to
match, and April had only to tuck up her skirt to look just like a
boy whose curls haven't been cut off. They all went to the piano, and
the mother taught them the tune.
Here it is:--
[Music: WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO, MY PRETTY MAID?
Where are you going to, my pretty maid?
I'm going a-milking, Sir, she said.
May I go with you, my pretty maid?
You're kindly welcome, Sir, she said.
Who is your father, my pretty maid?
My father's a farmer, Sir, she said.
Say will you marry me, my pretty maid?
Yes, if you please, kind Sir, she said.
What is your fortune, my pretty maid?
My face is my fortune, kind Sir, she said.
Then I won't marry you, my pretty maid!
Nobody ask'd you, Sir, she said.]
[Illustration: _'Nobody asked you, Sir,' she said_]
It was the only tune of the six new ones that they were to learn that
night, for it was already long past their bedtime. May sat on a sofa
near, and applauded frantically. June made a very spirited milkmaid,
and when the young man declared he wouldn't marry her, began to box
with him, and as he turned tail and fled, pursued him round and round
the room, defiantly shrieking '"Nobody asked you, Sir," she said,'
till she couldn't go on for want of breath. The audience on the
sofa was delighted, and clapped and cheered with all its might. The
performance had to be given several times over, and the mother was as
pleased as she could be that they liked to learn her tunes. You see
they were babies who wanted very little to make them happy.
Then Séraphine appeared in the doorway, and though she said nothing,
looked such unutterable tubs and bedtime, that the mother, gathering
all three together into her arms and giving them a final hug, told
them they must go quickly, and promised to come and say good-night
when they were in bed.
'It's English prayers to-night,' said April, as they went away.
'Won't you come when we says them, mummy?'
'Yes, I'll come. Be off now, my blessed darlings.'
The mother put the tunes together when they had gone, and began to
shut the piano. The babies had been taught so many prayers by Herr
Schenk and Séraphine that they had had to be divided into three
sets, and the German ones were said one night, and the French ones
the next night, and the English ones the night after that. In Herr
Schenk's set there was a German hymn as well as the prayers, and in
Séraphine's set there was a plaintive little tune to a short prayer:
only in the English set there was no tune, although amongst the
prayers was _Gentle Jesus, meek and mild_.
The mother, slowly shutting the piano, and putting things a little
straight, thought of this, and came to the conclusion that to write
one more tune wouldn't make much difference to her, and, as it would
be a hymn, it would finish off her week of tune-writing in a sweet
and holy manner. And I don't know how it was, but though she had
spent so much time struggling with all the other tunes, and had had
such difficulties with them, and had suffered such horrid pangs, the
hymn tune was finished in five minutes, and by the time she went up
to say good-night to the babies it was written out and ready for them
to learn the next day.
And so they did learn it the next day, and have sung it ever since
on English prayer nights; and they look so good and angelic while
they do it, kneeling in a row in their long nightgowns, with bowed
heads and folded hands, that the mother sitting in the midst is sure
they must be the dearest babies in the world. But as that is exactly
what other mothers think of _their_ babies, and as everybody can't
be right, I don't suppose they can really be the dearest, although I
know that they are very dear. This is the hymn tune:--
[Music: GENTLE JESUS, MEEK AND MILD.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child;
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee,
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.
Fain I would to Thee be brought,
Dearest Lord, forbid it not;
In the kingdom of Thy grace
Grant a little child a place.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.]
And when the mother went up half an hour later, as she had promised,
and tucked them up in their beds, they were so tired that they
couldn't keep their eyes open. 'Good-night, you sweet babies,' she
said, stooping over each cot in turn, and kissing the sleepy baby in
it.
[Illustration: GENTLE JESUS, MEEK AND MILD.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child;
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee,
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.
Fain I would to Thee be brought,
Dearest Lord, forbid it not;
In the kingdom of Thy grace
Grant a little child a place,
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.]
'Good-night, you sweet mummy,' said the babies faintly.
'We had fun, didn't we?'
'Oh but such fun!' murmured the babies, with their eyes shut.
'God bless you, precious babies.'
'God bless you, pwecious mummy,'--and then a voice out of the
darkness added very slowly and drowsily 'Sleep--well--mummykins--and
dweam--about--one--pwetty--angel--'
THE END
* * * * *
Elizabeth and her German Garden
BY
The Author of "The Solitary Summer"
12mo. Cloth. $1.75
KATE SANBORN says:
"The moment such a volume is taken up the pleasant spell acts upon
eyes and finger-tips, and one likes the book before it is read."
THE ACADEMY (London):
"Reading on, we find ourselves in the presence of a whimsical,
humorous, cultured, and very womanly woman, with a pleasant,
old-fashioned liking for homeliness and simplicity; with a wise
husband, three merry babies, a few friends, a gardener, an old German
house to repose in, an agreeable literary gift, and a slight touch of
cynicism. Such is Elizabeth. It is a charming book."
The Macmillan Company
66 Fifth Avenue, New York
* * * * *
The Solitary Summer
BY THE AUTHOR OF
"Elizabeth and her German Garden"
12mo. Cloth. $1.50
EVENING POST:
"A continuation of that delightful chronicle of days spent in and
about one of the most delightful gardens known to modern literature.
The author's exquisite humor is ever present, and her descriptions
... have a wonderful freshness and charm."
GLASGOW HERALD:
"Perhaps even more charming than the fascinating original, which is
saying a great deal."
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE:
"One of the most charming books that has been published for many a
month."
THE TIMES (London):
"It is inspired by a garden and very happily inspired. The best
praise we can give it--and it is really very high praise--is to
call it a sequel to 'Elizabeth,' which has all the charm of its
predecessor and none of the common faults of a sequel."
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