THE LUCKY DIP_The Book of Stories for the Story-teller

3d. a Dip

EACH ARTICLE FULLY WORTH DOUBLE

Julia pushed up the cover of the basket, and she and Molly peeped in

over the top. There were flat parcels to be seen and three-cornered

parcels, and long ones and square ones, and they were all done up in

tissue paper. There was something very interesting and mysterious

about the dip. Those paper packages might have something in them even

rarer and more beautiful than the paper dolls, or the furniture, or

the pink stuff.

"You could have two dips for sixpence," Julia suggested. "You could

dip and I could dip, and I could give you what I get."

She was longing to know the contents of a certain interesting

irregular parcel.

"The furniture is so sweet," said Molly, "and I am sure I want it."

"The paper dolls are sweet, too," said Julia.

"Yes, and so is the pink stuff. I shall _have_ to take a dip to decide

it."

Meanwhile a more important customer had come in with whom the

assistant was busy, so Molly went over to her and handed her the

sixpence.

"We will have two dips," she said.

"Thank you. Did you say you would have three yards, madam?" she asked,

turning to the lady customer.

_Molly's Purchases_

"You dip first," said Julia.

Molly looked from the flat parcels to the three-cornered ones and

could not decide which to choose.

"I think I will shut my eyes," she said, and she put in her hand at

random and pulled out a small, flat parcel. She opened it eagerly, and

took out a block of black paper, to be used as a slate, and a pencil

with which to write on it. She was sadly disappointed, and felt very

much like crying.

"It is a horrid thing," said Julia. "We don't want a paper slate when

you have that nice blackboard. You were very silly to shut your eyes.

I shall choose with my eyes open. I am going to take that package that

looks as if it might be a doll."

She took out the enticing-looking package and began to untie the

string, and presently drew forth a pink-and-white-and-green china vase

of a hideous shape. It was too large for dolls, and too small for

people, and too ugly to please either.

"That dip is perfectly horrid," said Julia.

Molly was sure that she had never been so unhappy. She knew, now that

it was too late, that she wanted the paper doll furniture more than

anything in the whole world. The little girls were very sober all the

way home. When they reached Molly's gate, Julia handed over the vase.

"Take the old thing," she said. "You have got something to remember

Priscilla by always now, and you can send the paper slate to her."

"Well, what did you buy, dear?" her mamma asked cheerfully, as Molly

came into the parlour.

The little girl found it hard to keep back her tears. Her Aunt Mary

and her brother Fred were sitting there, too. She felt it would have

been easier to confess her folly to her mother alone.

She held up the vase and the paper block silently.

"The block was a sensible choice," said her mamma, "but I don't see

why you chose the vase."

"I didn't choose either of them," Molly burst out. "We dipped and we

got them."

"In short, they chose you," said Fred.

Then the little girl told the whole story. "I _did_ want the paper

doll furniture so much," she ended.

"Why didn't you buy it, then?" asked her aunt.

"Because we thought it would be more fun to dip."

"This will be a very good lesson for you, Molly," said her aunt. "It

is never well to spend money unless you are sure what you are spending

it for. I am sorry for you, but you will never be so foolish again."

"There will be time to go to Fletcher's again before tea," said Fred.

"I will go with you, and we will pretend the sixpence I have was

Priscilla's and you shall choose what you want all over again."

Molly danced up and down with pleasure, and she and Fred went to

Fletcher's together. This time she made her choice very quickly, for

she knew just what she wanted. She bought the bedroom set and the

kitchen furniture. She remembered Julia's words: "I should keep them

both. If Priscilla chose to spend her money on fireworks, that is her

lookout."

But now she herself had spent her money foolishly. If Fred had thought

as Julia did, that nobody who had made an unwise investment ought to

have anything given her, she would never have had the dear paper doll

furniture. So she kept the kitchen set and sent the bedroom set to

Priscilla.

_Hans and his Dog_

MAUD LINDSAY

_The Golden Coin_

Far away across the sea, in a country called Switzerland, there once

lived a little boy whose name was Hans.

Switzerland is a wonderful country, full of beautiful snowy mountains,

where gleaming ice-fields shine, and dark pine forests grow.

Hans lived with his aunt and his uncle in a village up among these

mountains. He could not remember any other home, for his father and

his mother had died when he was a little baby, and his aunt and his

uncle, who had not a child of their own, had taken care of him ever

since.

Han's uncle was a guide. He showed the safest ways and best paths to

travellers, who came from all over the world to see the mountains.

Every summer the little town where Hans lived was full of strangers.

Some of them came in carriages, some on foot; some were rich, some

were poor; but all of them wanted to climb to the mountain-tops, where

the snows are always white and dazzling against the blue sky.

The paths over the mountains are slippery and dangerous, leading

across the ice-fields by cracks and chasms most fearful to see. The

travellers dared not climb them without someone to show the way, and

nobody in the village knew the way so well as Hans's uncle.

The uncle was so brave and trusty that he was known throughout the

whole country, and everybody who came to the mountains wanted him as

guide.

One day a Prince came, and no sooner had he rested from his journey

than he sent for Hans's uncle.

That very day Hans was five years old, and so his uncle told him that

because it was his birthday, he, too, might go to see the Prince.

This was a great treat for Hans, and his aunt made haste to dress him

in his best clothes.

"You must be good," she told him a dozen times before he set out with

his uncle to the hotel where the Prince was staying.

When they got there they found everything in a bustle, for the place

was full of fine ladies and gentlemen who had come with the Prince,

and the servants were hurrying here and there to wait on them.

Nobody even saw the little boy, in holiday clothes, who tiptoed so

quietly over the beautiful carpets. Nobody, I should say, but the

Prince; for after the Prince had finished his business with Hans's

uncle, he smiled at Hans and asked his name and how old he was. Hans

was very proud to say that he was five years old that very day; and

when the Prince heard this he took a gold-piece from his purse and

gave it to Hans.

"This is for a birthday present," he said, "and you must buy what you

want most."

_The Silver Chain_

Hans could scarcely believe his own eyes. He ran every step of the way

home, to show the gold-piece to his aunt; and, when she saw it, she

was almost as pleased as he was.

"You must buy something that you can keep always," she said. "What

shall it be?--a silver chain!" she cried, clasping her hands at the

thought of it. "A silver chain to wear upon your coat when you are a

man, and have, perhaps, a watch to hang upon it! 'Twill be a fine

thing to show--a silver chain that a Prince gave you!"

Hans was not certain that he wanted a chain more than anything else,

but his aunt was very sure about it; so she gave the gold-piece to a

soldier cousin, who bought the chain in a city where he went to drill

before the very Prince who had given Hans the money.

When the chain came, the aunt called all the neighbours to see it.

"The Prince himself gave the child the money that bought it," she said

again and again.

Hans thought the chain very fine; but after he had looked at it a

while he was quite willing that his aunt should put it away in the

great chest where she kept the holiday clothes and the best

tablecloths.

The chain lay there so long that Hans felt sorry for it, and wondered

if it did not get lonely. He got lonely often himself, for there was

nobody to play with him at his own home, and his aunt did not

encourage him to play with other children. She liked a quiet house,

she said, and she supposed that everybody else did.

Hans made no more noise than a mouse. He stayed a great deal in the

stable with the cows. The cows and he were good friends. One of them,

the oldest of all, had given milk for him when he was a baby, and he

never forgot to carry her a handful of salt at milking-time.

He often thought that he would rather have bought a cow with the

gold-piece than a silver chain; but he did not tell anybody, for fear

of being laughed at.

Once he asked his aunt to let him play with the silver chain; but she

held up her hands in amazement at the thought of such a thing. So the

chain lay in the dark chest, as I have said, for a long time--nearly a

year.

Then there was a great festival in the town, and the aunt took the

chain from its wrappings and fastened it about Hans's neck with a

ribbon.

She and Hans had on their best clothes, and all the village was

prepared for a holiday.

Flags were flying, fiddlers were playing gay tunes on their fiddles,

and the drummer boy kept time on his drum and made a great noise.

In the middle of the village square was a merry-go-round, which Hans

and the other children liked best of all.

"If you are good, you shall ride," said Hans's aunt, as she hurried

him on to the place where the strong men of the village were lifting

great stones to show their strength. Then the swift runners ran races,

and the skilful marksmen shot at targets.

_The Saint Bernard Dog_

Oh! Hans was tired before he saw half the sights; and he wished that

his aunt would remember about the merry-go-round. He did not like to

worry her, though, so he sat down on a doorstep to rest, while she

talked to her friends in the crowd.

By-and-by a man with a covered basket came and sat down beside him. He

put the basket down on the step, and Hans heard a queer little

grumbling sound inside. "Oh yes," said the man, "you want to get out."

"Row, row!" said the thing in the basket.

When the man saw how surprised Hans looked, he lifted the lid of the

basket and let him peep in. What do you think was in the basket? The

dearest baby puppy that Hans had ever seen.

"There," said the man, shutting down the lid, "there is the finest

Saint Bernard dog in Switzerland. Do you know anybody who might want

to buy him?"

"Are you going to sell him?" asked Hans.

"Yes, indeed," said the man. "How would you like to buy him yourself?"

"I!" said Hans. "Oh! I would rather have him than anything else in the

world; but I haven't any money. I haven't anything of my own but this

silver chain."

"Is that yours?" asked the man. "It is a very fine chain."

"Oh yes," cried Hans. "But I would a thousand times rather have a

dog."

"Well, then," said the man, "if you are sure that the chain is yours,

and if you want the dog so much, I'll let you have him for it,

although he's worth a fortune."

And so, in less time than I take to tell it, the chain was off Hans's

neck and the dog was in his arms.

Then he ran to find his aunt. "Oh, aunt!" he called, even before he

reached her, "look at this beautiful dog. He is my very own. The man

let me have him for my silver chain."

"Your silver chain!" cried his aunt angrily, coming to meet him in

haste. "Your silver chain! What do you mean, you stupid child? Not the

silver chain that was bought for your birthday? Not the silver chain

that the Prince gave you? A nice bargain, indeed! Where is the man?"

And, catching the child by the hand, she hurried back through the

crowd so fast that he almost had to run to keep up with her. The great

tears ran down Hans's cheeks and on to the dog's back, but his aunt

did not notice them. She scolded and scolded as she made her way back

to the doorstep.

When they got there the man was nowhere to be seen, and nobody could

tell them which way he had gone. So, although they looked for him

until almost dark, they had to go home without finding him.

Hans still carried the dog in his arms, and all the neighbours they

met stopped to ask if silly Hans had really given his silver chain

for a dog, as they had heard.

His aunt had a great deal to say to them, but Hans said nothing at

all. He only hugged the dog the closer, and wondered how long it would

be before he would have to give him up.

But Hans's aunt let him keep the dog in spite of her scolding. "A dog

is better than nothing," she said.

Hans named him Prince, for, after all, the dog was the Prince's

birthday present.

At first Prince did nothing but sleep and eat. Then he began to grow,

oh! so fast.

By the time he had lived two years in the house he was a great, fine

dog, with long, thick hair and soft, loving eyes. He was very

beautiful. All the travellers who came in the summer to see the

mountains said so, and even Hans's aunt thought so, although she did

not love the dog.

Hans was never lonely after Prince came. Even at night they stayed

together; and in the winter Hans would put his arms about his friend's

shaggy neck and sleep close beside him to keep warm.

The winters are very cold in the country where Hans lived. The winds

whistle through the pine-trees, and the snow comes down for days,

till the valleys are as white as the mountain-tops.

Few travellers go to the mountains then. They are afraid of the bad

roads, and of the snow, which sometimes slides in great masses,

burying everything in its way.

Hans's uncle knew many stories of travellers who had been lost in the

snow, and he told, too, of some good men, living in the mountains, who

sent their dogs out to find and help people who were lost--"dogs like

our Prince here," he would say; and Hans would hug Prince and say: "Do

you hear? Your uncles and cousins and brothers save people out of the

cold snow."

Prince would bark sharply whenever Hans told him this, just as if he

were proud. He knew all about travellers, and snow, for, often, Hans's

uncle took him on short trips over the mountains.

Hans always let him go, willingly, with his good uncle; but one day

when his soldier cousin (the one who had bought the silver chain in

the city) asked if he might take the dog with him for a day, Hans was

very sorry to let Prince go.

"Fie!" said his aunt, when she saw his sorrowful face. "What harm

could come to a great dog like that?"

But Hans was not satisfied. All day long his heart was heavy, and

when, in the afternoon, the little white snowflakes came flying down

he watched for the return of his soldier cousin and the dog with

anxious eyes.

After a long while he heard great laughing and talking on the road,

and he ran out to see who was coming.

It was the soldier cousin with a party of friends, and they laughed

still more when they saw Hans.

"Little Hans! Little Hans!" cried one of them, "this fine cousin of

yours has forgotten your dog."

"Forgotten my dog!" said Hans. "What do you mean?"

"He was asleep behind the stove at the inn," said the soldier cousin,

who looked very much ashamed of himself.

"And he never missed him until now," cried the friends. "Think of

that--a great dog like Prince!"

Hans looked from one to another with tears in his eyes; but they were

all too busy with their joking to notice him. Only the soldier cousin,

who was really sorry for his carelessness, tried to comfort him.

"He'll be here," he said, patting Hans on the head, "by milking-time,

I warrant; for he is wise enough to take care of himself anywhere."

"Wiser than you," laughed the rest; and they all went off merrily,

leaving the little boy standing in the road.

He scarcely saw them go, for he was thinking of the night so near at

hand, and the winds and the snow-slides. How could the dear dog find

his way through the darkness alone?

"I will go for him in the morning, if he does not come home to-night,"

called the soldier cousin.

But morning seemed very far away to the dog's anxious little master,

and the big tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Just then a thought sprang into his mind, as thoughts will. "Why not

go yourself for him now?" was the thought.

_The Rescue_

Hans clapped his hands joyfully. Of course he could go. He knew the

way, for he had been to the inn only the summer before with his uncle.

The loud winds whistled, and the snowflakes kissed his cheeks and his

nose; but he thought of his playmate and started out bravely.

"Moo! moo!" called the old cow from the stable. Hans knew her voice.

"Bring me my salt," she seemed to say.

"When I come back," he answered, as he struggled up the frozen road.

He was very cold, for he had even forgotten his cap in his haste; but

the snowflakes powdered his hair till he looked as if he wore a white

one.

He could scarcely pucker up his mouth to whistle. His feet were numb

and his fingers tingled, and the wind sang in his ears till he was as

sleepy as sleepy could be.

"I'll sit down and rest," said Hans to himself, "and then I can go

faster." But when he sat down he could not keep his eyes open, and

before many minutes he was fast asleep and lay in a little dark heap

on the white snow.

"Let's cover him up," said the snowflakes, hurrying down; but before

they had time to whiten his clothes a great big beautiful Saint

Bernard dog came bounding down the road.

It was Prince. He had waked up from his nap behind the stove, and

hastened after the soldier cousin as fast as his four feet could carry

him. He was not afraid of the night or the snow, and he was as warm as

toast in his shaggy coat.

He was thinking of Hans as he hurried along--when, suddenly, he spied

him lying there so still by the roadside.

In an instant the good dog sprang to the child's side, barking

furiously, for every dog in Switzerland knows that those who sleep on

snow pillows seldom wake up.

"Bow-wow! Bow-wow!" he barked, loud and long, "Bow-wow! Bow-wow!"

which meant in his language, "Little master, wake up!"

But Hans was dreaming of the mountains where the travellers went, and

did not hear.

"Bow-wow! Bow-wow! Wake up! Wake up!" called the dog; and he licked

Hans's face and tugged at his coat, pulling him along with his strong

teeth.

"You can't wake him up," said the wind.

"Bow-wow! I can," barked Prince; and he ran down the road and called

for help: "Bow-wow! Bow-wow! Come here! Come here!"

The sound of his voice reached the village, where everything was as

quiet as the snow itself. The cows heard it first and mooed in their

stalls. The soldier cousin heard it, on his way to Hans's house, where

he was going to find out whether Prince had come back. Hans's uncle

and aunt heard it as they searched through the house for their little

boy. The neighbours heard it, and opened their doors to listen.

"Bow-wow! Bow-wow! Come here! Come here!"

"Something is wrong," said the people; and they all hurried out of

their houses, away from their fires and their suppers, up the

mountain-side, till they came to the spot where the faithful dog kept

guard over his little master.

Hans's uncle never tired of telling how Prince saved Hans. He tells it

on the long winter evenings when the winds whistle through the pines

and he tells it in the summer to the travellers as they climb the

mountains.

Hans thinks it is more beautiful than a fairy story, and so does his

aunt; for ever since that snowy night she has been ready to agree that

the dear dog is better than all the silver chains in the world.

* * * * *

The Story-Teller's Series

THE BOOK OF STORIES

Books for Story-Tellers

How to Tell Stories to Children

And Some Stories to Tell. By SARA CONE BRYANT. Thirteenth Impression.

Stories to Tell to Children

By S. C. BRYANT. Twelfth Impression.

The Book of Stories for the Story-Teller

By FANNY E. COE. Seventh Impression.

Songs and Stories for the Little Ones

By E. GORDON BROWNE. Fourth Impression, Enlarged.

Stories for Character Training

By E. L. CABOT and E. EYLES. Sixth Impression.

Stories for the Story Hour

From January to December. By ADA M. MARZIALS. Fourth Impression.

Stories for the History Hour

From Augustus to Rolf. By NANNIE NIEMEYER. Third Impression.

Stories for the Bible Hour

By R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON. Third Impression.

Nature Stories to Tell to Children

By H. W. SEERS. Fourth Impression.

Everyday Stories to Tell to Children

By Mrs H. C. CRADOCK. Second Impression.

Stories for the Nature Hour

By A. and E. SKINNER. Second Impression.

Stories to Tell the Littlest Ones

By S. C. BRYANT. Fifth Impression.

Mother Stories

By MAUD LINDSAY. Fifth Impression.