[Illustration:]
[Illustration:]
It was Saturday--a summer Saturday; the sun shone down upon the meads
and pastures round Clover Farm so radiantly that every face felt bound
to smile brightly in return. Every face but one, and that belonged to
Roddy Lester, the eldest of the farmer's four.
"What ails my boy this fine sunshiny morning?" called out mother from
the cool, sweet dimness of the dairy, where she was at work.
Roddy did not answer. He was standing in the ivy-encircled doorway of
the dairy, his hands deep in his pockets, his feet shuffling to and
fro, and on his face a dark, angry cloud.
"Come, Roddy, tell mother the trouble. Is it anything to do with
school? Is there a punishment preparation to be done this morning?"
"No; there isn't!" Roddy roused himself at such a suspicion. "Why,
mother, I told you I was moved up yesterday; don't you remember? But
I'll come inside and tell you all about it."
"No! Tell me from outside all about it."
"Well, then, mother, I don't _want_ to take the children to the meads.
I want to amuse myself. And it's not fair. Saturday's a holiday, and
it's my right to have it!" sullenly said Roddy.
"Your right! Perhaps so, dear! But sometimes it is our privilege to
yield our rights!" quietly said mother, taking her eyes for a second
off the yellowing cream to glance at the boy's gloomy face. "Who told
you to take the children to the meads--father?" she asked.
"Yes, it was. He said I was to take them to the cowslip meads, and not
to stir from there until he came back from market."
"And what is it you want to do instead?"
"I want to go with my net down to Butterfly Corner. There will be
heaps of butterflies out this sunny day. And the other boys at school
are all collecting: they have more than I have, all of them. I have
only a tortoiseshell and a brimstone. O, it's a regular shame of
father!"
"Hush, dear, hush! Nothing that your kind, good father says or does
can be called a shame. But I believe I can guess why he gave those
orders. He knew that this is an over-busy day for me, and also that I
have one of my bad headaches." Certainly mother's face gleamed out
white from the dairy shadows. "And as this is market-day at Hamley
Town he and old Michael would be away until dinner-time. So, you see,
sonny, he has left _you_ in charge. You are in father's place this
morning to guard the farm and us all, particularly the tinies. Don't
you see what an honour it is to be trusted thus?"
Something stirred in Roddy's heart at his mother's words. The best
part of him suddenly came uppermost. He walked quietly away, followed
by Fuzzy sniffing at his heels. And, somehow, the boy felt an inch
taller as he looked round the farm. After all, what were the
butterflies compared with the tinies left in his charge? "Hip, hip,
hooray!" Roddy straightened himself and cheered. He had won a
victory--over himself.
[Illustration:]
"Hi, Nettie! Hi, Dumps! Come along! And where's Baby? We're going to
the meads, and I'll make you a fine cowslip ball to shoot the rooks
with!" he shouted, and Fuzzy barked madly round as the tinies flocked
out.
When they got there, what with the sun and the wind, the making of the
huge cowslip ball and the little ones' joy over it, Roddy's face
cleared up and was as sunshiny as the weather itself. There's nothing
like giving up your own will for making the heart sing.
By-and-by, when dinner-time came, so did father. As the dog-cart drove
along the high-road, Roddy and Nettie puzzled over its appearance.
"It's got a new wheel at the back, Roddy!"
But Roddy's eyes widened into a fixed stare, and his face grew very
red.
"Well, boy, here you are at your post. Now I'll tell you why I wanted
you to stay at home this morning. It was for this surprise. Look, my
lad! For weeks back I've been in treaty for this bicycle for you.
To-day I was able to close with the bargain, and it's yours!"
For a few seconds Roddy could not see: his eyes were dimmed. The good,
kind father had been planning out his boy's pleasure! "O, father!" he
gasped; then, "O, mother!"
"Such a beauty!" delightedly said mother.
"It's a good one; I don't know the name," father was beginning.
"I do!" put in mother. "It is the 'Victory'--Roddy's Victory!"
_M.B. Manwell._
Was It a Dream?
[Illustration:]
Rita grew quite tired of gathering wildflowers while her brother Frank
sat by the water busy with his fishing-rod.
"He _must_ be tired of it by this time! He has been fishing for two
hours!" she said, and, swinging her bunch of flowers, she walked to
where her brother was sitting.
"_Do_ leave off fishing for a while, Frank!" she pleaded, leaning
against the tree beside him. "There is such a funny-looking animal
running about over there in the grass. Come and look!"
Frank laughed.
"I know your funny-looking animals, Rita!" he said.
"Aren't you really tired of sitting quite still?" went on Rita
wonderingly.
"I don't think about it," answered her brother. "I want to catch the
fish, and to do that I must sit still."
Rita knew she must be contented to wait, so she walked a little way
from him and threw herself down upon the bank.
As she lay looking into the water she suddenly felt herself grow very
sleepy. A little while after, the water began to get so clear that she
could see right through it. It grew more and more so until it became
just like glass. Rita could see the very bottom of the pond and the
fish swimming quickly backwards and forwards.
Then she heard some very funny little voices coming up from the water.
This made her look closer, and she soon discovered a small group of
fishes who seemed to be speaking very eagerly together. She saw they
were gathered round Frank's line, on the end of which hung a tempting
piece of bait.
"I tell you, my son," Rita heard the largest fish say to one of the
smaller ones, "that is a trap. I have seen hundreds of poor fishes try
to swallow that worm, and they have been pulled up out of the water
and I have never seen them any more!"
"But, mother!" cried the smaller fish, "if I only had just one bite!
Look what a beauty it is! I am sure there can be nothing to harm me!"
"Inside that worm," continued, the big fish, "there is a hook which
will catch into your gills, and you will not be able to get away. Then
the man at the top will pull you up and up, and you will be killed and
eaten by him!"
Still the little fish looked longingly at the bait. Rita wanted to
call out and tell him what his mother said was quite true; but somehow
her voice refused to come.
The other fishes who were gathered round listening did not say
anything, but Rita saw that some of the smaller ones looked at the
worm just as longingly as the little one who had spoken.
For a few minutes there was silence in the water; then all at once, at
a moment when it thought its mother was looking the other way, the
little fish made a dart forward and tried to swallow the bait. The
next moment it was wriggling about in a most pitiable manner and
giving faint little cries for help. Its mother swam towards it in
great distress.
"Come and help!" she called, in a trembling voice.
All the other fishes surrounded the line, and some caught hold of the
little fish's tail and held on.
Just as Rita was getting very excited indeed she gave a great start
and jumped up from the bank.
"What was that?" she exclaimed aloud.
"Why, I've got a splendid catch. It must be a monster! The line is so
heavy I can hardly pull it in!"
It was Frank's voice. Rita suddenly remembered where she was and that
she must have fallen asleep. She walked slowly to Frank, thinking
about her strange dream.
She had only stood by him a minute when--splash!--out flew the line
from the water and over went Frank on his back.
It was so funny that Rita could not help laughing heartily--especially
as Frank was not at all hurt.
"It's all very well for you to laugh!" he said, when he had got up
again; "but that was the best catch I've ever had, and the wretched
fish must have got off the hook!"
Rita grew very thoughtful. Could her dream have been true? It really
did seem strange. Anyway, although she felt sorry for Frank, she could
not help feeling very pleased that the poor little fish had got free!
_Edith Robarts._
Merry Folk.
[Illustration:]
Merry folk tiny, merry folk tall,
Happy as can be, here they are all,
Spending the holidays 'midst the flowers,
Laughing away the joyous hours!
Merry folk sunny, merry folk sweet,
Pleasant to look at, happy to meet,
Nothing but smiling, never a sigh,
They are so glad to be here, that's why!
Merry girls dancing under the trees,
With their curls floating out on the breeze,
Merry boys playing all the day through,
Here you will find them waiting for you.
[Illustration:]
Why are they merry? I'll tell you why:
They know you will see them by-and-by;
They know that you all are going to look
At them in this merry picture-book.
[Illustration: TOBOGGANING.]
Auntie's Tea-Tray.
[Illustration:]
"Auntie dear, will you buy Molly and me a toboggan? There's such a
lovely slide on Heath Hill, and Toddy Graham and the Earles have
toboggans, and we want one too."
Auntie looked up from her sewing and shook her head. "No, my dears, I
can't. Run out and play with your hoops instead," she said, and then
she went on with her work.
Charlie _was_ angry. "I'm ever so much bigger than Toddy Graham," he
said indignantly, "and his mother lets him have a toboggan. It's a
shame! But never mind, Molly; we'll go all the same. I've got an idea.
You go to the hill and I'll come presently."
Molly trotted away, and in a minute or two Charlie came running
towards her, carrying his auntie's best tea-tray. "I had an awful
bother to get it," he said. "Jane saw me with the old one and took it
away; but I remembered this one was upstairs in auntie's room, so I
fetched it without anyone seeing me."
"But what's the good of a tea-tray?" asked Molly.
"Toboggan, you silly; come along," Charlie answered shortly; and in
another minute the two children were spinning away down the hill.
The first journey was most successful, but on the second. Charlie
forgot that a tea-tray requires careful management and good steering,
and half-way down the hill he came into collision with Toddy Graham.
Over went the tray, smash came Toddy's toboggan right on the top of
it, and all three' children were shot out into the snow. Toddy and
Charlie picked themselves up, but Molly lay without moving.
"She's dead, Toddy Graham. O, what shall I do?" wailed poor frightened
Charlie.
"You'd better fetch your aunt," suggested practical Toddy; and Charlie
rushed off as fast as his fat legs could carry him.
When auntie arrived upon the scene, she found her small niece sitting
up, howling vigorously, and rubbing a very big bump on her forehead.
There was no great harm done--at least, as far as the children were
concerned, but the best tea-tray was battered and scratched beyond
recognition.
"Really, auntie did behave like a brick," said Charlie, and when they
opened their money-boxes and, putting all their pennies and sixpences
together, bought her a new tea-tray, she declared it was ever so much
better than the one they had spoilt.
And what do you think happened when Christmas Day came? Why, auntie
gave them the jolliest toboggan you ever saw, and the children found
out that she had meant to do so all along, and that was why she had
refused to give them one when they first asked for it. Wasn't she a
nice aunt?
_L.L. Weedon._
[Illustration:]