Citation
Tales told in the twilight

Material Information

Title:
Tales told in the twilight a volume of very short stories
Creator:
Molesworth, Olive ( Author )
Nesbit, E ( Edith ), 1858-1924 ( Author )
Weedon, L. L ( Lucy L ) ( Author )
Bennett, Emily ( Author )
Molesworth, 1839-1921 ( Author )
Cecil, Gwendolen ( Author of introduction )
Nister, Ernest ( Publisher, Printer )
E.P. Dutton (Firm) ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London
New York
Publisher:
Ernest Nister
E.P. Dutton & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
119, [1] p. : ill. (some col.) ; 22 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1899 ( lcsh )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1899 ( local )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre:
Children's stories
Hand-colored illustrations ( local )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Germany -- Bavaria
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Date of publication from inscription.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.
General Note:
"872"--t.p.
General Note:
Baldwin Library copy illustrations are hand-colored: probably by young owner.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Olive Molesworth, E. Nesbit, L.L. Weedon, Emily Bennett, Mrs. Molesworth ; with an introduction by Lady Gwendolen Cecil.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026981337 ( ALEPH )
ALH8803 ( NOTIS )
265143042 ( OCLC )

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Full Text


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La “VOLUME OF
VERY HORT OTORIE

BY
OMI Vie MOLE SWwiole iia:
€ Nesina, LL WECDEREe
SIMLY BENNETT, ME QoLéeswortr,

“With AN INYRODUCTION BY
Ce ate WD 1a. CAE NOD Ole SNe acne Clon

Lenovo: New Yorn:
ERNEST NISTER, &. P. DUTTON & &9

Printed in Bavaria



CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Dotty’s VoyaGE .

THE SANDMAN

THE THREE WISHES .

THE FasHIONABLE FuR

THe TwerrtH Nicur Farry
HIDE-AND-SEEK

THe BuNCH OF VIOLETS.
Jack Frost

Tue GRATEFUL Fairy

Tue CoLtourED ScEentT-BotTtLe .

CONTENTED CHARLIE

THe FIGHTING FLOWERS
Tue Happy Liry

Dopo’s KITTEN

THE QUEEN’S JEWELS

THe Pen Fairy .

Tue Love Matcu

Tue Lirrte Losr Dot .
Tue Woop FairiEes

Tue Farry AND THE Mouse
NELL’s SECRET

Tue LitTLE Green Man .
Tue Rupsper Farry

Tue Lirtte Dancine GIRL
A Worpy War .

PrINcESS FORGET-ME-NOT
Tue Fink Ecc .

Tue CuristmMas-TREE PuncH

sob at ho

Lady Gwendolen Cecil
L. L. Weedon .
Sheila

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. L. Weedon
Nesbit .

. Dyke

L. Weedon

. Nesbit .
Olive Molesworth
L. L. Weedon
Louisa Molesworth
. Nesbit .

. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. A. Hoyer
L. Weedon

. Nesbit .

L. Weedon
Dyke

Nesbit .

L. Weedon

. Haskell :
. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

L. Weedon

bP b ty bh be oo ty

a

PAGE

10
12
t4
16
19
aye
23
25
28
30
32
34
39
41
43
45
47
48
50
53
54
Yi

59
60

62
66
68

70



CONTENTS.

THE Snow WitcH
Tue LitrLe CHInGooxs
Our Buiack Cat.

THe Stucx-up Rappitr
ApriIL SHOWERS .

Tue Story or Tommy
Tue Mirror or TRUTH
THe New Suip .
CASTLES IN THE AIR .
Wuat CoMES OF QUARRELLING
Tue Rat Princess

Tue Lirrte Boy Nexr Door .

Basy’s BirTHpay PRESENT
GREEDY TODDLES

THe WINGED FLoweER
THE GRATEFUL PEDLAR
Doinc NOTHING .

Our Cat’s Tae

THE UNINVITED GUEST
Tue Litrte Ink-Drop
THe Two Pets .

Tue Proup Gitt Butron

Retold by

Louisa Molesworth
M. A. Hoyer
E. Neshit .

E. Nesbit .
L.L. Weedon .
Constance Milman
. Nesbit .

L. Weedon .
. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

L. Weedon .
L. Weedon .
Dyke

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .
Emily Bennett .
L.L. Weedon .
L. L. Weedon .
L. L. Weedon

boty i yy yh ty



PAGE

115
118



“CPN FRODUCTION

moh HATS the use of twilight ?”
os AE grumbled impatient Jack,
e as he stood waiting for
the lamp to be brought in
order that he might finish reading his
story-book.

Blanchie, who always had such nice
we funny ideas, nodded her head wisely.
~~: “T know,’ she said; “it’s because
of the birdies. When the sun goes

away he leaves the door open for
a bit so that the little birds shouldn't
feel frightened before they go to sleep.”
Then the two elder children
wandered away to play cat’s-cradle
together, and little Dickie was left
all by himself, staring out of the
open drawing-room window across the
garden. “It’s very kind of the sun,” he
thought. And then he thought again:
“Tt’s the little birdies’ bed-time now: I wonder what they do at bed-
time.” And then he remembered the nest in the apple-tree against the
garden wall. It was built on a branch quite near the ground, so that
he could look into it without any big person to lift him up.






INTRODUCTION. 7

“T think I'll go and see the little birdies now,” said foolish little
Dickie to himself, and he trotted out of the house and off across the
grass, quite forgetting that he had his indoor shoes on and neither hat
nor.coat. He was becoming a big boy and would soon wear trousers,
but I am afraid he never thought of that kind of thing.

When Dickie came near to the nest there was the mother bird
sitting on the edge, chirping; but she flew away, and all the little birds
began to squeak when they saw him.

“Why, what are you crying for, little birds?” said Dickie, standing
on tip-toe and peeping into the nest. “Go to sleep quickly ; the sun
hasn't shut the door yet.”

“They're crying because you've interrupted the story, of course,”
exclaimed a pink-and-white fairy who was sitting cross-legged behind
an apple-blossom; “and such a nice story too—one of the best she
has ever told.”

The little boy turned and looked at the fairy with round, wide-
opened eyes. “Why, I’ve never seen you before!” he said.

“That’s because you've never properly tried to,” said the apple-
blossom fairy; “I’m always here.”

“But I’ve often tried to see fairies,” said Dick gravely.

“An! but your eyes haven't,” said the fairy; “eyescan’t really try
to see anything in the daytime—the sun shines too brightly; in the
twilight they have to try, and then they see fairies—sometimes. But
now you must-be quiet, because the big bird is coming back to finish
her story.”

“Does she often tell stories?” asked the little boy.

“Yes, every evening at the birds’ bed-time,” answered the fairy.
“Hush! here she comes.”

Dickie stood as quiet as he could, for there was nothing in the
world he loved like a story. Back flew the big bird, and, perching
herself on the nest, began chirping quite loudly again, while the little
birds remained as quiet as Dickie himself: But after a minute, Dickie



8 TWILIGHT TALES.

turned to the fairy, with tears in his eyes. “Why, she’s not telling a
story at all,’ he said; ‘she’s only saying chirp, chirp, chirp.”

“Hush!” said the fairy crossly; “can’t you understand bird lan-
guage? Do be quiet, for she’s just got to the most exciting bit.”

The little boy pressed his lips tightty together, and winked his
eyes hard; but the tears would come, and when he saw his mother
walking towards him over the grass, he ran to meet her, breaking into
sobs as he went. You see, he was so dreadfully disappointed at not
being able to understand the bird’s story.

“Bed-time, Dickie,’ cried his mother; “you naughty little boy, to
be out here at this hour. Why, what’s the matter?” she added, as
she picked him up in her arms and he buried his face on her shoulder.

Dickie told his mother all about ic, and after she had kissed and
comforted him, she had a grand idea.

“See here,” she said, “I’ll ask that little bird who often whispers
things to me, to tell me the bird’s story, and then I'll tell it to you
to-morrow evening when you go to bed.”

“That will be nice,’ said Dickie, clapping his hands; ‘and the
to-morrow after that, and all the bed-times, mummie?”

“That depends,” said his mother, laughing, “on how many stories
the little bird whispers to me.”

The bird whispered a good many to her, and after she had told
them to Dickie she wrote them down, and here they all are in this
book. And every night when she had finished telling her story, Dickie
would look out of the window and see that it was quite dark. Then
he would nestle his head down upon his pillow, and say softly: “Good-
night, birdies; the sun’s shut the door tight now, and Dickie’s tired.”

Seay





ght Lale.

v

wile

UE:



Dolly's evoyage .

T'S a dreadful thing to be a doll, children are so inconsiderate.
I myself have lost an arm and a leg through their rough hand-
ling, and once I trembled for the safety of my head. Master
Johnny wanted to play at Mary Queen of Scots being executed,

I was quite relieved when Dolly said that Mary Queen of
Scots had been very beautiful and that I could never be made
to look like her; it was not flattering, perhaps, but it was safe.

They gave up that idea and then Johnny said they
would go out and fly his parachute. I thought that now I

should be left in peace for a short time, but no! Johnny caught me



up, tied a string round my waist and fastened me to the end of the
parachute, and then those two cruel children climbed up to the top
of the garden wall and dropped me over.

It is not altogether unpleasant to sail through the air with a
parachute, but the bump when you reach the ground is terrible. I
think I must have fainted away, for I remember nothing more until
I found myself lying on a bed of violets with a tiny little creature
sitting beside me who asked me how I felt. The string which bound
me to the parachute had broken and I was free again, but I felt very
stiff and uncomfortable.

However, I managed to reply politely to the little elf’s question,
and having explained how I came to be lying there, on the wrong
side of the garden wall, I added that I trusted I should never have
to go back again. “What!” cried the elf, “you would really be con-
tented to remain here always?” I answered that I should, and he
then ran off and consulted with a group of elves who had been.
watching us from a distance.



DOLLY'S VOYAGE. Il

When he returned he told me that he and his companions had
long been wanting a queen, and seeing that I was so much larger and
handsomer than they, they had decided to offer me the crown.

Of course, I was obliged to hesitate for a short time—it isn’t good
manners to appear too eager about anything—but I meant to accept
in the end, and was just preparing a nice little speech, when I was
grabbed—yes, grabbed by a dirty little hand and thrown over the wall,
where Dolly caught me. Of course, it was Johnny—that boy always
was the bane of my life, and it was like him to spoil all my prospects.

However, Dolly was so glad to have me back again that I was
a little comforted, though I have never quite got over the shock of
my voyage over the garden wall. L. L, Weedon.



Bry, 1, &
ee DP 'Y Po



Cre DANDMAN.
xv wy
Wy





jit you get out of my way, lumbering elf?

This is the third night I have tumbled over you.”

“Softly, good Father Sandman, softly! If
: you were not so blind you would have seen
SS me. Have you put-all your children to bed, old Father
er $ Sandman?”

“wd “Go along for a teasing, impertinent imp!”
Pipistrello laughed shrilly as he swung himself to
and fro on the branch of a low shrub, chanting—

“Clcse, little eyelids, close up tight, for the Sand-
man’s come to town!”

The old fellow had gone into his cave; it was nearly dark now.
Boum! An old brown shoe came flying out, and, catching the elf as
he swung, toppled him neatly on to the grass beneath. He was not
hurt, for the Sandman goes very softly shod, that the children may
not hear him. But he was extremely angry. . “Very good!” he cried,
shaking his morsel of a fist; “to-day you, Father Sandman, and
to-morrow me! Mark my w eae you will be sorry for it before the
moon is many nights older.”

A chuckle was heard coming from the cave, and that was all.
Pip went off, meditating revenge. In the middle of supper he snapped
his fingers gleefully. “The very thing,” he cried; and he began to
hum: “Close, little eyelids, close up tight, for the Sandman’s come
to town!”




: ww, ola

Old Father Sandman was hunting about his cave in a fine state
of mind. “Ach! where is my bag of sand? Where can it have gone?
It is the children’s bedtime; the Nurses and the Mammas will be



THE SANDMAN. 13

wondering where I am! My sand-bag, my precious sand-bag—oh, if
I could but find it!” The poor old gentleman trotted to and fro, and
seemed nearly distracted.

“YT wish I could help you,” said a bat, who generally shared his
cave; “I have been asleep all day, you know, and have seen no one.”

“If you will let me ride on your back,” cried the old fellow
eagerly, “I might catch my brother Sandman, who lives the other side
of the wood, before he goes out. He would lend me some sand,
perhaps.”

“Come along then,” said the bat.

But the second Sandman declined to help. Poor Father Sandman
got back to his cave, and there was Pip swinging on the same branch
as before, and looking very malicious. “I believe,’ gasped the old
gentleman, “that it is you that stole my sack!”

Pip laughed, and skipped out of reach, crying: “My turn to-day,
Father Sandman.”

But although mischievous, he was not a bad-hearted sprite, and
presently he went and fetched the sand-bag. Then he made a bargain.
“Tather Sandman, will you say you are sorry ?”

“Pipistrello, I will say I am sorry,” was the reply.

“And you won't bear malice?”

“T will not bear malice—give me my bag.”

“One thing more. Will you let all the children sit up half an
hour longer in winter, and an hour in summer?”

“Tt can’t be done—well, perhaps, if I must—yes, then; but the
babies must go to bed a quarter of an hour earlier all the year round.”

“Please yourself about the babies,’ said Pip. “Catch, Father
Sandman !”

The next minute the old fellow, with his sack on his back, and
a smile on his face, was trotting off to the town. Sheila.



Cones

Sons Cc,
“Gre .
pagename, :
af. HERE were once two little white rats
a who lived in a hutch with wide bars.
As They had plenty of soft hay to sleep
. in, and bread-and-milk at the proper
times. But they were dull, for they
never saw the world, and they had
nothing to talk of in the long winter
evenings. One winter day a Fairy
knocked at their door.

“T am cold and hungry,” she said,
“and Fairyland is a long way off; I
can never get there in this snowy



weather.”

“Come in,” said Mrs. Whiterat,
and the Fairy crept in through the bars. Mr. Whiterat gave the Fairy
some bread-and-milk, and Mrs. Whiterat sat close beside her in the
hay-—so that soon the Fairy felt quite warm and cheerful again. And
she lodged with the white rats all the winter, and they were all three
as happy as could be.

Then when spring came, and the daffydowndillies were waving
their yellow heads in the sun, the Fairy said: “I must go home now.
You have been very good to me. You may have three wishes.” And
she waved her little wand and flew away.

Now, the white rats had often longed to be free, to run about under
the haystacks, and bring up large lively families, like the brown farm
rats. So now they said—



diielid Ieligals, \WAisialas\ 15

“Oh! I wish we were out of the hutch!” And ina minute they
found themselves among the hayricks.

“Oh! how big and beautiful the world is,” they said.

_ And then a dreadful thing happened. A great brown rat jumped
out at them.

“Get along with you!” it- said. “We don’t want any toy-rats
here.” And it showed its sharp teeth and looked so fierce that: Mrs.
Whiterat trembled to the end of her grey tail, as she cried out—

“Oh! I wish-we were safe in the hutch!” And the same instant,
there they were at home again.

And the third wish? Well, they haven’t made up their minds about
that yet. It gives them something to talk about in the winter
evenings ! Z£. Nesbit.





id

Cone FASHIONABLE For.

Vy R. and Mrs. Stoat a
with their children

in a comfortable
\ home. They were

very well off—they always had
plenty to eat, and their fur
yw Coats always fitted beautifully and
were never shabby. Every day,
when Mrs. Stoat was busy with
the house work, she used to send
the children out for a walk, and one day, when the children were
walking in the wood, they saw two ladies coming down the path.
The little Stoats hid in a hole in the mossy root of a tree, and as
the ladies went by, one of them said: “I wonder what fur will be





worn next winter?”

“They say,” answered the other lady, “that nothing will be worn
except——”

But the little Stoats could not hear what fur it was that was to
be worn next winter. They did not like to think of other people
wearing fur, for fear their own fur coats should be taken from them.
“Oh! how cold we should be without our coats!” they said, shivering ;
but then the most sensible Stoat said: “It can’t matter to us what
big people wear! Our coats wouldn’t fit tem, you know.”

But the smallest Stoat of all felt quite anxious to know what
fur would be worn, because she was a vain little person, and felt it
would be very sad if Stoat-fur coats were not the fashion.

So when she went home to dinner she asked Mrs. Stoat the question.



THE FASHIONABLE FUR. 17

“Mother dear, you know everything. Do tell us what fur will be
worn next winter.”

“Why, Stoat-fur, of course,” the Mother answered, laughing ;
“ nless——” She stopped short and looked at Mr. Stoat, who nodded,
and then they both laughed, and everyone sat down to dinner. But
that silly smallest Stoat of all couldn’t sleep for thinking of that “unless.”
What could it mean but that perhaps some other fur would be worn?
And then unfashionable! It was a dreadful thought. Before morning
she had made up her mind to go out into the great world and find
out what fur was to be worn next winter. So she said nothing to
anybody, but she started off alone; and perhaps she would soon have
seen how silly she was and have come running back again, but, alas!
she was caught in.a trap, and the keeper who caught her would have
killed her, only his little daughter begged so hard that the keeper
agreed to spare the little creature’s life. So the smallest Stoat of all
was kept in a hutch.

And there she stayed for weeks and nee and when it grew
very cold the hutch was put in the stable, so that she was always
warm; but she longed to get home again.

“T don’t think I should care about not being in the fashion,” she
said sadly to herself, “if only I could go back to my dear Mammy
and the old home!”

Now, one day two ladies took refuge from a snowstorm in the
keeper's house, and as they passed the stable the smallest Stoat of all
heard one of them say: “You see, I was right. Nothing is being
worn but ermine /” .

And the little person in the hutch recognised the voices of the
two ladies she had seen in the wood. So now she had found out the
great secret! And it so happened that the very next day someone
left the door of her hutch open, and she slipped out very cautiously,
lifting up her little head and turning it from side to side, and sniffing
to make sure that there was no danger near.

B



18 TWILIGHT TALES.

Then she started to run across the snowy fields to her old home.
But as she ran she heard feet behind her—and ran faster and faster
—a little brown streak on the snow. And the feet came faster too.
They were a dog’s feet—and she heard the dog’s quick breathing close
behind her as she rushed into the old home, and knew she was safe.
As soon as she had got over her fright enough to look about her, she
received another shock; she was in the midst of a number of strangers
all dressed in creamy white fur dresses who were only hike her as to
their neat black tails.

“T’m sure I beg your pardon,” she said; “I thought this was the
house where my Father and Mother lived.”

“So it is,” cried the white furry people, laughing. “Don't you
know us?” And then she saw that these were really her own relations,
only their dresses were new.

“We are wearing ermine now,” said Mrs. Stoat proudly.

“Oh, Mother, can’t I have an ermine dress too?” cried the youngest
Stoat of all. “Nothing is being worn but ermine. I heard them
say so.”
“Something else is being worn by you, at any rate,” said Mrs. Stoat
sternly. “You've been living in some warm nasty place. If youd
stayed here in the cold like a good little Stoat, instead of running away
from home, you would have had an ermine dress like everyone else.”

“Don’t you know, silly child,” said Mr. Stoat, “that we always
get ermine coats in very cold winters? Then dogs can't see us so well
in the snow. It’s very cold still. If you try hard perhaps you can
get an ermine coat like the rest of us.”

But the smallest Stoat of all never got her ermine coat, for the
spring came quite soon, and there has not been a really hard winter

since.
E. Nesbit.



Gwerrtn a Nignt Sra AIRY.

HI =| AIRIES are all pretty, we know, but
rt the Twelfth Night Fairy was rate
lovely. She wore a white frock and
a wreath of pink roses. She had
no shoes or stockings, and stood on
the tip of one toe and waved the
other foot in the air. Teddy thought
she was lovely, and he felt hungry
when he looked at her, although he
had just eaten his supper of bread-and-
butter and milk. How he wished he
were grown up instead of being only
five years old, so that he had to be
sent to bed like a baby, instead of
sitting up for Mother’s party !
“T could eat her every bit; she’s
only sugar,” said Teddy regretfully.



“Never mind, old man,’ said Mother; “you shall have a nice
slice of the cake to-morrow.” So Teddy sighed deeply, mounted the
nursery stairs, and was soon far away in Dreamland.

But the Fairy went to Dreamland too. Teddy met her as soon as
he crossed the threshold, and she told him-she had been running after
him ever since he left the supper-room. ;

~“T wanted to tell you that I’m wot sugar,’ she said. “I’m a real
live Fairy. And, oh! please, please don’t eat me! I heard your Mother
say that she would give me to you, because you had been a good boy
and went to bed without making a fuss.”



20 TWILIGHT TALES.

There were tears in the Fairy’s eyes, and she looked so piteously
at Teddy that he felt inclined to cry too.

“J won't eat you, dear little thing!” he said, kissing her. “If
_Mother gives you to me, I'll keep you for ever and ever. But, oh
dear! suppose someone else should eat you before morning ?”

This was a dreadful idea, and the Fairy began to sob outright, so
tender-hearted little Ted thought he would go at once and make his
Mother promise that she would not let anyone touch the poor little
pink-and-white Fairy.

It was not very far from Dreamland to the dining-room, and the
little boy soon stood by his Mother's side, with the bright light from
the waxen candles shining upon his golden curls and lighting up his
pretty blue eyes. The room was quite full of people, but Teddy, who
was a shy boy generally, didn’t mind a bit. “Oh! Mother dear,”
he cried earnestly, “Aromise that no one shall eat the little Fairy.”

Mother picked him up and kissed him, and then someone put
the Fairy—who had followed him downstairs—into his hand, and in a
moment he was fast asleep. |

When he awoke in the morning the first thing he saw was his
little friend, smiling at him from the top of the Nursery chest-of-
drawers.

Teddy was so glad she was safe and sound, and he wouldn't have
eaten her for the world now, because, although she looked so sweet,
he knew she was not made of sugar.

He grew very fond of her and carried on long one-sided conver-
sations with her. She never answered him during the day, but at night
she met him very often in Dreamland, and danced with him, and sang
him the sweetest, quaintest songs, and Teddy says, when he’s a grown
man, he’s going to marry the pink-and-white Fairy.
: L. L. Weedon.



Ai we 7X IN) DCMS

EL IDE-AND-SEEK is a jolly game when you play it out of

doors and there are a good many of you; but when you

have to play it indoors and there are only two of you,

WZ |_ YA you have to make the dolls play too. Molly and I used

to each be captain of a side; she had nine dolls and I had only seven;
~so our side had much more looking to do than hers.

One very snowy day, when we couldn’t play in the garden, we
had tried all the games we could think of, and Molly: was getting
crosser and crosser because she could not draw Selina properly, when
I said: “Let’s play hide-and-seek.” Molly said: “All right, only I
don’t know where half my dolls are. You must lend me some of
yours. I'll have the talking one and the one that shuts its eyes.”

I didn’t like this very much, but I gave in. “And our side will
hide first,” said Molly. .I didn’t like that either, but I gave in again.

I said good-bye to my dear Rosalie and Selina, and handed them
over to Molly; then I turned my pinafore over my head and waited
while she hid them.

“Cuckoo! cuckoo!” cried Molly, as a signal that all were hidden.

I soon found Molly; she was behind the window curtain, and
made it stick out, of course; and I soon found her dolls and my Selina.
Molly had hidden her in the coal-scuttle, and though she had wrapped
her in a piece of paper, I didn't think jit was quite nice of her; but I
couldn't find Rosalie, the squeaking doll, anywhere. I looked in Nurse’s
work-basket, I looked in the doll’s house, I looked everywhere you
could think of—no Rosalie! Just then Molly had to go and have her
dress “tried or.”



22) TWILIGHT TALES.

Hide-and-seek is no fun by yourself, but I couldn't bear to think
of Rosalie being hidden somewhere all alone, so I went on looking.
It was beginning to get dark, and Nurse had gone down to her tea,
and I felt very miserable and forsaken, when suddenly in the quiet
Nursery I heard Rosalie’s well-known squeak. The dear doll, she was
calling to me! The sound came from the chest-of-drawers. I looked
on it, and under it, and behind it. The drawers themselves we were
forbidden to open, but I was certain the squeak had come from one
of these drawers; so I pulled out Nurse’s work-drawer, and there, lying
on the cut-out flannel petticoats, was my precious Rosalie, and she
had squeaked to call me to her. What I had so often wished had
come true, no doubt. Rosalie had come alive; she had squeaked by _
herself. If she could squeak she could talk, and what interesting talks
we should have! .

I told Nurse all about it when she came up from her tea.

“Bless you, my lambie,” she said; ‘“dollies don’t squeak without
something to make them.”

She went to the work-drawer and pulled it open. Lying curled
up at the back was pussy.

“Tt was the cat you heard,’ said Nurse; “or perhaps pussy sat
on the doll’s squeak.”

It was a dreadful blow, but after all, I don’t think I quite
believed that pussy had anything to do with it; and for a long time
I used to take Rosalie into quiet corners whilst Molly was busy
making her dolls new dresses, and beg her to squeak just a little for
me, so that no one else should hear; but she never did, so that
perhaps Nurse was right after all. E. Nesbit.



a

— :
Gne JD unen OF Movers.

J

ay

i noo ne
ho * me NCE upon a time there was a little girl named Nettie,
Le who lived with an Aunt and cousin. She was very
1-4 unhappy, for her naughty cousin used to tell falsehoods
oS

eae about her, which the Aunt believed. Poor Nettie was
Dee y constantly being punished for faults which she had not
Hi committed, but she was so patient and obedient that her

Aunt’s heart was touched at last. “Nettie does everything that I tell
her,’ said the woman to her daughter; “I do not think that she can
be such a very bad girl, after all.”

“T know of something she could not do,’ said Nettie’s porch
cousin; “only let me try her!”

“Well, just this once you may,’ sented the girl’s Mother; “but if
she does not fail, I shall not allow you to tease or worry her again.”

Then they called Nettie, and told her that she must go into the
wood and gather a bunch of violets. In spring-time, this would have
been an easy task, but it was now mid-winter. Poor Nettie, in a
miserably thin frock, wandered forth, shivering and crying. She knew
that she should find no violets in such weather, yet she dared not
return without them. What was she to do?

Presently she saw in the distance a bright gleam as of flame.
“What can that be?” said Nettie to herself; “1 will go and see.” So
she went in the direction of the light, and came soon to a fire, around
which were twelve men, each seated upon a big stone. The oldest
of these men—a very old fellow indeed, whose white beard swept the
ground—spoke kindly to the little girl, asking her who she was and
what she wanted. Nettie told her sad story. All the men felt very
sorry for her, and the oldest one said: “My name is January. You



24 ‘ PWLEIG HIS TAL ES:

cannot find violets in my month. Yet I think I can find a way to
help you.” Then he turned to one of his brothers, and said to
him: “Suppose you change places with me, Brother March?”

Brother March jumped up at once, and changed places with his
eldest brother. As soon as he had done this, a wonderful change took
place in everything. The snow vanished, the sun shone, the air grew
softer, the trees began to bud. Nettie forgot her troubles as she
watched with much interest some birds building a nest. A bird
alighted on the grass at her feet, and close to the spot was a bed of
the loveliest violets she had ever seen.

She thanked the kind brothers over and over again, and, after
gathering a large bunch of the sweet-scented flowers, returned to her
Aunt’s house. The violets must surely have been magic flowers;
or maybe it was only Nettie’s patience and gentleness that worked
the charm. However the change was brought about, it is certain that
from that day Nettie was well and kindly treated by her Aunt, and
even her cousin ceased to torment her. E. Dyke.





Jack Frost.

y| ACK FROST sat perched upon

TS the snow-laden branch of an oid

fa {Nl e Z UG ih elm-tree, chuckling with delight

9 ‘« hy ee over his own handiwork.

Jes YY He and the Snow Queen
Via >) \ (J had been hard at work all night,
ith nae aS Lv Mh covering the earth with fleecy
ne a , white feathers and sparkling

wel i ee | diamonds, and very pretty it
RS all looked.

“Ah! there is no time like
the winter,” said Jack.

“T’m sorry I can’t agree with you!” replied a half-starved Robin
crossly. “It’s all very well for you, who live upon nothing but ice,
but what are we poor birds to do? There isn’t a berry left upon a
hedge, nor an insect to be found anywhere.”

“But doesn’t the little girl up at the big house feed you?” asked
Jack sympathetically.

“Sometimes,” said Robin; “but it is Christmas Day to-day and
she is so busy looking at her presents that she has forgotten all about
us, though we sat on the window-sill and chirped for ever such a
time. Oh! dear, I wish the snow and ice were all gone.”

Poor Jack Frost felt quite disheartened as he listened to Robin.
He had thought to please everyone, and now, here were all the little
birds starving, and it seemed that it was all his fault.





26 TWILIGHT TALES.

He slipped down from his perch and running to the house, climbed
to the window-sill and looked in.

There sat the little girl teaching one of her new dolls to read.
She had a birch-rod in her hand and was looking very severe, for
the new dolly was a terrible dunce.

“Oh! if ondy I could tell her,” he thought.

Just at that moment the little girl’s brother opened the window ;
he wanted to see how the garden looked after the heavy fall of snow.

Jack slipped into the room, crept up to the little girl’s ear and
whispered— ,

“Don't forget the birds) They have had no breakfast, poor little
things, and they w ill have no Christmas dinner either unless you
remember them.”

“Qh! dear, how cold it is!” said Mother, shivering. «Shut the
window, Georgie, or you'll let Jack Frost in.”

It was all Jack could do to get out of the window before it was
shut, but as he went he chuckled to himself, for he saw the little
girl throw down the birch-rod and heard her say—

“J. had almost forgotten the poor birdies, Mother!”

She took a handful of bread and, opening the glass door into the
garden, threw it out to the birds, who had a fine breakfast and then
flew away to thank Jack Frost.

The little girl never forgot her feathered friends again, so that
although the winter lasted a long, long time, Robin never had cause
to quarrel again with the good little man who makes the w orld so

beautiful for us in the merry winter-time.
L. L. Weedon.





asl.

5 ‘Lreakf

HNobin.

e

The







q -

HERE was once a Fairy
who lived in a big library.
It was rather a dull place
we to live in, but the Fairy

liked quiet. One day the room

suddenly grew noisy, and the Fairy
peeped out from behind the poetry-
book where she lived, and saw two
children playing. They were building

a house with the big books, a solid

calf-skin house, with a vellum roof.

“This would be a nice house for

~ me,’ said the Fairy, “rather large

perhaps, but I like plenty of room.

That poetry-book was too thin!” So

she crept under the roof, which was

made of a volume of Rollin’s Ancient

History. Her new house was rather

musty, but it was large and comfortable. .

She was just settling down when a prim

little girl leading a fat dog came into the room and scolded her little

brother and sister, shut up the Ancient History, put it back on the
shelf, and the Fairy was shut up in it.
She had to make herself very small, I can tell you, so as to be



TE GRAPE ROI, ATR: 29

comfortable between the pages. But she did it, and then went to
sleep. “I shall wake when they open the book again,” she said, and
so she did. But the book was not opened again for years and years
and years. And at last it was opened by a learned Professor, and he
read in it through his spectacles, but he didn’t see the Fairy.

“Why,” she said, “you're the little boy who once built a house
with the books.”

“Am 1?” said the Professor, with a sigh.

“Why, don’t you remember?” said the Fairy, and she flew on to
his shoulder and began whispering in his ear. But he thought it was
his own thoughts. And he remembered old times, and how he had
played and enjoyed himself when he was a child; but now he had
grown learned, and had been to Oxford, and had been made a Pro-
fessor, he had forgotten how to play. “Heigho!” he said, “learning
isn't everything. I wish I were young again.”

“T can do that for you,” said the Fairy. “How old are you?”

“I’m not thirty yet,” he said.

“Then I'll make him young,” she said to herself, “in return for
“his letting me out of that dreadful book. Look out of the window,”
she said to him. And again it seemed to him that it was his own
thoughts he heard. And through the window he saw the little girl
he used to play with, only now she was grown a fair lady, and
suddenly he grew young again, and went out to her. And she met
him with a smile, and they went out into the fields and picked
buttercups and daisies, and came back and had strawberries and cream
for tea.

“It’s good to be young again, my love,” said the Professor.

_And the Fairy kept. him young to the end of his days.
&. Nesbit.





REDDY,” said Mamma, for the third time, “I have
told you before no¢ to touch that scent-bottle.”
Freddy was standing at his Mother's toilet-table,
looking at the pretty things that were laid out on it.
One of these was a funnily shaped scent-bottle in



coloured glass.

“Why, Mamma?” he said crossly. “I wouldn’t break it. I want
to see it near.”

Mamma was getting ready to go out. She was in a great hurry,
or perhaps she would have told Freddy her reason for not wanting
him to touch the scent-bottle ; the stopper was loose and she was
alraid of the scent all pouring out. But as Freddy spoke someone
called her, and she left the room, saying—

“Just do what I tell you, dear—leave it alone.”

A ray of sunlight came streaming over the table at that moment.
It lit up the scent-bottle till it seemed all the colours of the rainbow—
pink, green, yellow, blue. Freddy thought he had never seen anything
so lovely. Forgetting Mamma’s words, he stretched out his hand and
lifted it up, and carried it to the window to sce it better.

e



THE COLOURED SCENT-BOTILE. 31

Then—he did not know how, for he was certainly holding it
carefully—the funny little stopper, shaped like a fish’s head, dropped
on to the floor, and out poured a stream of scent over the carpet.

Freddy was very frightened. Half the scent was spilled, though
happily nothing was broken. But Mamma would see that he had
disobeyed her. What could he do?

“T know,” he said to himself. “I'll pour some water into the
bottle and Mamma will then not see that any scent is gone.”

Deep down in his heart he felt dreadfully ashamed of himself; but
still, he carefully filled up the half-empty scent-bottle with some water
from a little jug which stood near.

Oh, dear! What was this? When Freddy had poured in the water
and put the scent-bottle back in its place, he saw that instead of
sparkling as before, the scent had grown thick and white—it looked
something like milk. Freddy’s face grew redder and redder as he
looked at it. What could have happened? Was the scent-bottle a
fairy one? And what would Mamma say now? She would know that
her little boy had not only disobeyed her, but had tried to deceive her
too! Freddy burst into tears and flung himself on to the floor.

“Freddy, Freddy, what’s the matter?” said a voice behind him.
It was Mamma, who had come back for something she had forgotten.

Freddy sprang to his feet and told her all. She was very kind,
though she looked unhappy when he gaid how he had meant to hide
from her how disobedient he had been.

“T knew it was like telling a story, Mummy,” he sobbed. “But
oh! I am glad now that the water turned the scent white and made
me tell you all. It would have been dreadful for you not to know!
But, Mamma,” he went on, looking up into his Mother’s face, “I think
I would have told you when you came to kiss me in bed, I think.”

“Yes, darling,” said his Mother; “I am quite sure you would !”

Olive Molesworth.



LONTENTED COHORLIE.




| O one bothered about Charlie; he was so happy and

\ ; contented that the other children half thought he

Yh... really preferred odds and ends and broken toys to

4 ae whole ones. He toddled through life with a smile

Ong on his face and a happy heart, made a gee-gee of
the old bench in the back-yard, and never once
envied Tommy his fine new Dobbin.

It was not only in the matter of toys that Charlie failed to receive
his just share. When black Biddy had a brood of seven chicks, and
each of the children claimed one as a special pet, it was the lame one
that was called Charlie’s. One day, Mother found her little lad sitting
by himself on the doorstep, with Hopperty, as the lame chick was
called, huddled up in his pinafore. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie boy?”
said she, for she noticed that the little cheeks were very white and
the pretty blue eyes heavy.

“My head’s so funny, Mother!” said Charlie.

The next day there were six children playing in the field behind
the house, and one little boy lay tossing on his bed upstairs.

Now, you would have thought that amongst so many children one
would scarcely have been missed, but Charlie was. The children felt
as though they could not play, now that he was not with them, though.
when he had been well and strong they had often left him out of
their games. After a while they sat down quietly together and began
to talk of Charlie. Then it was that they remembered what a sweet,
unselfish little fellow he had been.

“We gave him the lame chicken!” said Dora regretfully.

“T never once offered him a ride on Dobbin,” sighed Tommy.



CONTENTED CHARLIE, 33

“T don’t think any of us were very kind to him,” said Alice. “He
was so contented that we thought anything would do for him.’

The week that Charlie was ill was the most miserable the children
had ever spent, and when at the end of that time the Doctor said
the worst was over and Charlie began to mend, there was nothing his
brothers and sisters would not have given him, they were so thankful.
The chickens were secretly carried up to Charlie’s bedside, but Mother
said she could not have the sick-room turned into a poultry-yard.





“But we gave him the lame chicken,” the children pleaded; “and
oh! Mother, we are so sorry!”

“Well,” said Mother, “he loves Hopperty -best now; but, my
darlings, Charlie will be down amongst you all soon, I hope, and then
you must remember to try and be as unselfish to .him as he has
always been to you.” The children did not forget Mother's words, and
as for Charlie, he is the happiest little boy in the world, and the other
children are all the happier too, I know, for having learnt to be a little
more like their unselfish little brother. L. L. Weedon.



= eee ae
Gre Pignti INE Lowe IS:

z
ea
aka
Fe ea oa pe
peo
ee
NDP eZ ee HAT are you staring at, Hodgie?” said Mother
LAr 3a “A\ |
Aa enV a i one afternoon when she came up to the Nursery.
, a \2 Ye - Hodgie was standing at the window, his fat
oe oe brown hands clasped behind him, his holland
bie

AK blouse looking rather bunchy and untidy, instead
of smoothly hanging down straight and neat
below his eae leather belt. And even when he heard his Mother's
voice he scarcely turned round—only just enough not to seem rude,
while he murmured or muttered something about the wind and the
flowers. But that tiny glarice over his shoulder was enough to show
two things—that his eyes were red and his face very solemn. Nurse
gave Mother a look which meant: “There’s been some stormy weather
up here, ma’am.”
And Mother soon saw two other sights. Blanche was sitting in
a dark corner pretending to be very busy undressing her doll, and
Nora was not pretending anything at all, but letting the tears run
down her cheeks, while little sobs shook her every now and then,
and there was a great big hole torn in her pretty frilled muslin apron,
just at the very front, where it showed.
Sometimes it’s best not to seem to notice things, but it was no
good pretending not to see Nora’s right-out crying.
Mother sat down not far from Hodgie and called Nora to her.
“What's the matter, Nora?” she said. “Is it the tear in your
pinafore you're in trouble about? It ¢s a pity. How did it happen?”
At this the little girl burst out into a loud wail. Mother told

-



THE FIGHTING FLOWERS. 35

her she must not make such a noise but speak quietly, and then
‘well see what can be done.” So after a bit Nora told her story.
It was partly her apron she was crying about, “’cos Nurse said it
were kite a new one,” and partly a lot of other grievances.

“It begunned,” said Nora, “wif Hodgie wanting a doll to be the
queen in his percession. And Blanchie wouldn't give hers, and she
said I must give mine. And I wouldn't, ’cos Hodgie called her names.”

“Whom?” asked Mother. “Blanchie?”

“No; my dolly. He said she was a snub-nose, and he pulled
her nose and nearly brokened it, and he wouldn’t have her for his
queen, and I catched him, and Blanchie took her dolly out of Hodgie’s
arms, and we all foughtened. And Hodgie gave Blanchie a bad slap,
and her said he was a cow—not brave, you know—and that made
him so angry that he cried, and then my apron got tored, and dolly
was all scrumpled up, and I cried, and it was all drefful. Slapping and
pushing ‘like bad little tigers and lions,” Nora said. And this was
too much for Nora; she melted into another flood of tears.

Mother took her up on her knee. “Come, dear, it’s no good
crying any more. I feel sure Hodgie and Blanchie are sorry too.
Suppose you all three have a good making-up, and kiss each other.
It's no use saying who was worst; put all the wrong into a bag of
forgetfulness together and shake it up, and then open the bag and
take out some nice forgivings and kisses; that’s far the best plan.”

The children couldn't help smiling at Mother's way of putting
things. But they took her advice. Blanchie came out of her corner
and whispered: “I’m very sorry;” and Hodgie turned round and said:
“So am I,” and then the kisses finished it all off comfortably.

But still the little boy turned towards the window, as if something
he saw there was very interesting.

“What is it you keep looking at so?” asked his Mother.

“Tt’s the f’owers,” said Hodgie—he was only five. ‘They does so
seem. as if they was fighting—like—like us,” he added, in a very low voice.



36 TWILIGHT TALES.

Mother looked out too. It was a windy day, and just on that
side of the house the garden was much exposed. The plants and
flowers were certainly flinging themselves about, and rapping and
thumping each other rather wildly. She could not help smiling a little
at Hodgie’s fancy.

“T hope the poor flowers didn’t hear what was going on up here
just now,” she said gravely. “It would be such a bad example.”

Hodgie looked very solemn. Mother was in fun, of course, but I
don’t think he quite understood that.

Not very long after, she went downstairs, having kissed the

”

children for good-night, for it was near their bed-time.

Hodgie was very quiet while he was being undressed; the last
thing that he did before leaving the Nursery was to look out of the
window. Yes, the hitting and slapping and shaking were still going
on, for the wind was rising.

“T’m afraid they did hear,’ thought Hodgie, as he fell asleep.

What was that sound? He heard it faintly, then more loudly—
then, at last, it seemed to wake him quite up. It was a sound of
crying and weeping, and amidst it he heard his own name.

“Hodgie, Hodgie, do come down to us. We're so unhappy and so
sore and spoilt, and some of us are torn in pieces, and it’s all your fault.”

Up jumped Hodgie, rubbing his eyes. Who was speaking to him?
Was it Blanchie or Nora? No—he peeped into their room they were
both quietly asleep—he could see them by the moonlight, which was
very bright. But again he heard that sad cry: “Hodgie, do come!”

It came from the garden, and without waiting to dress himself
down he trotted. He did not feel cold, and oddly enough the door
was open, so he got out quite easily. But once in the garden, oh,
what a sight! The flower-beds were a mass of ruins—the tall lilies
lying on the ground, all their beauty gone, the roses crushed and
broken, the sunflowers’ faces hidden in the soil, while from all sides
came the woeful cry: “Oh, Hodgie, Hodgie, it was your bad example.”



THE FIGHTING FLOWERS. 37

What a night he had! lifting up one, wiping the soiled petals of
others, tying and binding and straightening all that he could. Dear,
dear! never did gardener work harder than Hodgie in the moonlight,



till at iast things began to improve a little and the garden to look
less desolate.
“Thank you,” whispered the bruised and repentant flowers; “we'll



38 TWILIGHT TALES.

go to sleep now till the morning and we'll never fight again, Hodgie,”
and with a sigh the little gardener went back to bed.

It was quite morning when he awoke. The sun was shining and
the wind had ceased. From the bedroom window Hodgie could see
nothing of the garden, but he begged Nurse to dress him quickly that
he might have a little run before breakfast, and he pattered off
downstairs as fast as he could.

When he got to the garden he rubbed his eyes with astonishment.
It didn’t look so very different from usual. Some of the flowers were
straggling and blown about, some few bruised and broken, but several
lifted up their faces with sweet joy to wish him and the sunshine
good morning. And on one rose which he stooped to smell there
was a drop of dew like a tear. “Perhaps her's been sorry and is going
to be good now,” thought Hodgie.

But still, where were all the sticks and tyings-up? He remembered
fetching them from the tool-house so well. He felt very much
puzzled. Suddenly he saw someone coming—someone who liked a
little fresh air before breakfast, too. -It was Mother. Hodgie ran to
her and told her all that had happened.

“My darling,” she said, as she kissed him, “it was a dream.
Perhaps it was rather foolish of me to make that little joke about
your setting the flowers a bad example; but still I hope neither they
nor the birds nor anyone will ever hear quarrelling or fighting or
anything but happy sounds through the Nursery window again.”

“We're going to be werry good children,” said Hodgie ; “you'll see,
Mother.” And he trotted in to tell the wonderful story of his dream
to Blanchie and Nora and Nurse. But, as he passed the flower-beds, he
shook his head: he was not quite sure but that Mother was mistaken.
“They have been fighting some,’ he said to himself.

Louisa Molesworth.





‘

ax HERE was once a beautiful white Lily who lived in a

a
| | green garden, and had all the happiness of sun and dew
f that can come into a flower’s life. Only one thing
it saddened her; now and then the gardener would come
7”

and gather some of her sisters: he took them away, and
she never saw them again. One dreadful day the gardener came with
a sharp knife and cut the Lily’s stalk and carried her away in his hand.
As she went she shed bitter tears, and the gardener said: “What a
lot of dew there is in this Lily!”

When she was brought to the house she was placed in a tall green
vase and set by the bedside of a little sick child. When the child saw
her beauty his tired eyes lighted up with pleasure, and he cried:
“Oh, the dear Lily! Mother, when can I go out to see the other lilies
growing?” And from that moment he began to get better.

“Tt was the Lily did it,” said his Mother, with tears of happiness.
“He was so tired that if the Lily had not come to cheer him, he
might have gone to sleep and never wakened here again.”

The Lily tried hard not to fade. She held herself up bravely, and
day by day the sick child looked at the Lily and grew stronger and



49 TWILIGHT TALES.

stronger. And at last a day came when he was well enough to be
taken into the garden to see the lilies growing, and when he was
gone the Lily drooped and drooped, for she felt that the end of her
pretty green and white life was near. But though she was sad, she
was not sorry, for she felt that she had done some good with her
life. And as she drooped there a white butterfly came fluttering in.
“Oh, happy Lily!” he cried. And she looked sadly at him. “I am not
sorry—only sad,” she said.

“Sad,” he said; “do not you know what happens to all flowers
who are able to help and comfort any little child? When they die,
they turn into fairies and can fly for ever through all the green
gardens of the world. The other flowers will only be flowers next year,
but you will be a fairy.”

And as he spoke the Lily died and became a fairy, and she and
the butterfly spread their white wings and flew out into the sunshine
together. EL. Nesbit.

(26





ae s
SB) ODO’s Furr GeNG

”OU mustn’t go into the morning-room, Dodo—don’t



forget, will you?”

“No, Mother,” Dodo answered, but she didn’t
seem very pleased. It happened that she was a very
curious little girl, and always liked to know what was
going on, and she was quite certain that something inter-
esting was taking place now.

Mary and Eric had just come out of the morning-room, whisper-
ing together, and if Eric, who was younger than Dodo, might go in,
she thought it was very unkind of Mother not to let her.

Dodo was so cross that she sulked nearly all the afternoon, and
was so tiresome when nurse was dressing her to go down to the
drawing-room, that the other children were ready long before she was.

But at last she trotted downstairs, with Spot at her heels—Spot
always waited for Dodo—and as the two of them passed the morning-
room door, they both stopped.

Strange to say, Spot was quite as curious as Dodo. He sniffed
at the door, and whined, and wagged his short stumpy tail violently
to and fro. The little girl’s hand was on the handle of the door.
Should she turn it? Surely one little peep cou/dn't matter ?

It always seemed to Dodo that the handle turned of its own
accord. J don’t think it could have done so, but at any rate the door
opened a little way, and out dashed a fluffy white kitten. In an
instant Spot was after it, and chased it down the hall and out into
the garden.

Dodo didn’t know what to do; she couldn't very well run after
Spot, because just at that moment Mary called her.



42 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Be quick, Dodo; Mother wants you,” she said. So Dodo went
into the drawing-room feeling very guilty, and soon afterwards Spot
came in, licking his lips.

“Had he eaten the kitten?” his mistress thought, but she didn't
dare say anything.

The next morning when Dodo came down to breakfast, she found
all sorts of nice presents laid out beside her plate.

“They can’t be for me,” she said, but Mother kissed her and said :

“Yes, they are, my pet. You surely haven't forgotten that it is
your birthday? I am so sorry that I have no present for you, but
yesterday I bought you a little white kitten and shut it up in the
morning-room. Some one must have let it out, for we can’t find it
anywhere.”

You can think how Dodo felt then. She grew redder and redder,
and then she burst out crying. After that she did the best thing she
could have done. She told Mother all about it, and Mother kissed
and comforted her, and forgave her, but she made her promise to try
and not be so curious or so disobedient again.

And before breakfast was over, what do you think happened?
Dick, the gardener’s boy, brought in a lovely white Persian kitten, that
he had found in the tool-house. Of course, it was Dodo's, and it was
the very sweetest and dearest kitten in the world.

Spot was inclined to be jealous of the new pet, and was very
naughty at first, barking and snapping at it in a very rude manner;
but in the end even he couldn't help liking the pretty little fluffy
thing. Before a week had passed he and Snow became the very best
of friends, and he wouldn't have chased that kitten for the meatiest
bone in a whole butcher's shop.

L. L, Weedon.







os OQuegn’s SEWELS .

HERE was once a King who was very rich and powerful.
Ns? He had a splendid kingdom, much gold and jewels, and
f a beautiful Queen who loved him dearly. But he was
not happy—for someone had told him that somewhere in
¢g the world, there were five jewels more beautiful than any in
i his royal treasury. So he kissed his dear wife, and though

she clung round his neck and begged him, with many tears, not to
leave her, he set forth. ,

“Tt is for you I want the jewels,’ he said, and left her.

He travelled east and he travelled west, but nowhere could he
find the five jewels more beautiful than his own. He travelled north
and he travelled south, but found no jewels such as he sought.

At last he came upon a flight of white steps, in the heart of a
pine-wood. And the steps led down, down, down into the middle of
the earth. “I have gone east and west and north and south,” he said;
“now I will go down.” And down he went; the steps went on, and on,
and on, and the King grew tired and faint. At last he found himself
in a great crystal hall, and there on a rainbow-coloured throne sat a
black giant, and in his crown blazed five jewels—two sapphires, two
rubies, and a fine pearl, as big as a woman’s heart.



“Will you sell your jewels?” asked the King; “I will give you
Aye puces.

“They are yours,” answered the giant. “You shall pay the price
when you come by our kingdom again.”

So the King took the jewels and went home rejoicing. But when

4*



rer TWILIGHT TALES.

he came to his own kingdom, he found all changed. No one knew
him, and in his palace were strange faces, and on his throne sat his
Queen—an old, old woman with white hair. He fell on his knees
before her, and laid the jewels on her lap, and he trembled with fear
and sorrow, for he saw that the time he had spent seeking the jewels
had been years and not days.

“JT do not know you,” said the Queen, looking sadly at him.

And then the King knew what was the price he had paid for the
jewels. He said no more, but he started up and went out. He travelled
east and he travelled west, he travelled north and he travelled south,
and at last he found the pine-wood and the steps again.

And when he reached the crystal hall, he found the black giant
still sitting on his rainbow throne. ‘And in his crown blazed five
jewels—far more beautiful than those the King held in his hand.

“Let me undo the bargain,’ cried the King; “take back your
stones, and let all be as it was.”

The black giant laughed. “I will take back the jewels,” he said,
‘Gf you will give me all your other wealth.”

“Take everything,” said the King; “only give me back my Queen
—let her be young again and love me.”

Then the giant looked at him more kindly, and reached out a
great black hand, and the King gladly put the jewels into it.

Now the giant took the gold jewelled crown from his head, and
held it out—but the King covered his eyes with his hands.

“No—no,” he cried. “I want no more jewels,”

“O foolish man!” said the black giant, “the sapphires are made of
the blue of your Queen’s eyes. The rubies are coloured with the red
of her young lips, and the pearl is pure with the purity of her heart,
and the crown is made of the gold of her hair.”

So then the King took the crown and went. And he came again
to his kingdom—and still all was changed and strange, and still the
sad, faded Queen sat on the throne alone. He took the sapphires,



THE PEN FAIRY. 45

and laid them on her tired eyes, he laid the rubies on her pale hips,
on her white hair he set the gold crown, and laid the pearl on the
heart that had once loved him. .

And at once the jewels vanished, and his Queen—young and
beautiful as ever—clasped him in her arms, and who then was so
happy as they?

But all their wealth was gone—so they left off being King and
Queen, and went and lived like other folk. And they are the happiest
people in the world to this day.



Na :
(NEA GHERE w Fairy who lived in the holl
vio ee RE was OMe eae ner yu ORM eine Sie ene oy
\ JP > part of a quill pen. It was a very pretty palace
Y t for a fairy, with half-transparent walls. And hers was
a

a happy life. The only thing that troubled her was

a
‘ \ > that the man who used the pen only wrote logic and
: grammar and really sensible things.
“Why can’t he write poetry and fairy stories?”

she used to say. ‘Oh, what beautiful things this dull man could write
if he only knew that there was a Fairy in his pen!”

So one day when the man who used the pen had gone to a dull
lecture, she wrote on the blotting-paper:— “ There its a fairy in your
pen!” “And now,” she thought, “he will surely let me help him
to write poetry and fairy stories.”

But the stupid man thought the children had written the words
on his blotting-paper, so he sent them to bed, and the Fairy cried till
the ink was quite pale from having so many tears mixed with it.



46 TWILIGHT TALES.

And the man, finding that his pen wrote worse and worse, threw
it into his waste-paper basket. His housekeeper picked it out. “I'll
mend this pen,” she said, “and use it for my books.”

“Oh! now,” thought the Fairy, “someone really is going to write
fairy stories and poetry with me.”

But the housekeeper only used the pen for adding up the baker’s
and butcher's bills, and the Fairy got very angry. So she left the quill
pen and came to live with me. And I try to be kind to her, and
never hurt her feelings by writing logic or grammar or anything really
sensible. : : E. Nesbit.





2 ig
AG é Pove AA AT CH:

9 OU would never think, to see the Matches lying so
quietly in their box in the daytime, that they really
have rather a pleasant life, and very exciting ad-
ventures. But they do. Every night the Matches creep:
out of their box and hide it, and put on pretty paper
frocks and coats, and go and dance with their friends.
That ‘is why you can hardly ever find a match-box in
the dark, and if you do it is almost always an empty one.

Well, at one of the Match parties a young wooden Match with
a red head fell in love with the sweetest little Princess of a Wax
Match you ever saw. She wore a white smooth frock, and her head
was brown.

“How I love you!” said the Red-headed Match.

“And I you!” said the brown-headed little lady. “But they tell
me your box is in the kitchen. That is very low.”

“Never mind,” said the lover; “I will come and live with you.”

So when the party was over the two went to live in the mother-
of-pearl box in the drawing-room. And that was high life indeed.

But the Queen of the Wax Matches was very angry.

“She has married beneath her,’ she cried; “off with her head!”

And sure enough at that moment the housemaid came to light
the fire, and she struck the little white Princess Match against the
bar of the grate, and her brown head fell off! The wooden Match
did not want to live now his lady was beheaded, so he pressed for-
ward into the housemaid’s hand—and she struck him and lit the fire
with him; and what was left of him fell beside his white lady. So
the two faithful lovers were buried together in the ashes.




L. Nesbit.



Ge Buttle,
% Flos DoLr.

HE was lost as they went through the wood. How it
happened nobody quite knew, but they supposed she
must have tumbled out of the perambulator as Kitty
{ pushed it through the ferns and long grasses, and so
-» oy poor Dolly was left there, lying on her back, staring up
at as much sky as was visible through the fern-fronds, and the fox-
glove leaves, and the branches of the trees overhead.

Would they come back for her? The children’s voices and foot-
steps grew fainter and fainter, till at last they died quite away in the
distance, and the robin began singing again on the branch over her
head. Presently the little bird caught sight of Dolly, and flew down
and looked at her with his bright eyes, and then a tiny field-mouse ran
round and over her with her little light paws—which must have tickled,
but still Dolly never moved, and a wise old beetle came out of his
hole, and twiddled his long whiskers as he peered at her curiously.’

“Sweet! sweet!” said the robin. “Who is she?”

“Twee! twee!” whispered the mouse. “I don’t know!”

“Hum, hu-um!” buzzed the beetle. “Why doesn’t she speak?”

But Dolly didn’t say a word!

Now, eventide came, and the sun grew tired, and put himself to
bed under a crimson-and-gold counterpane. The robin found a com-
fortable twig on which to perch, and tucked his head under his wing.
The mouse went home to her babies, of whom she had six—all packed
warm and tight in a neat little nest hung on to a cornstalk in the
next field. And the beetle spread his shining wings and went for a
fly round before he, too, rolled himself in a roseleaf blanket and went
to sleep! But Dolly never closed her eyes!






cle lelilemy [es lolol e[esrcaa 2 OC) Sluae DOE. 49



Then the great stars lit their lamps, and looked down at her
through the fern-fronds, but if they said anything no one heard them
—they were too far off!

“Dolly, dear Dolly, where are you?” cried a little voice, and
little footsteps came pressing through the tall bracken fern.

But Dolly didn’t answer!

“Dolly! Dolly! Oh! I wish I could find my Dolly!” There
were tears in the little voice now, and the footsteps were more
hurried. Yet Dolly lay still!

The sobs grew louder and louder, the little feet almost touched
Dolly as she lay hidden under the big foxglove; then the little steps



50 TWILIGHT TALES.

went on, and the sobs grew fainter in the distance, and Dolly lay still
staring up at the sky!

So the days went by, and the winter came, and the falling leaves
drifted over Dolly, and the snow covered her, but she never moved
nor shivered—till one day in spring-time a great wind arose, which
blew all the dead dry leaves away in little rustling dances—and lo!
John the woodman caught sight of Dolly’s pink cheeks and blue eyes
still staring up at the sky!

“Why,” he exclaimed, “I do believe there’s little missie’s doll, as
she fretted so at losing!”

And he took Dolly home in his pocket ! Af. A. Hoyer.

Rie QWoop FARIeS:

a WISH there were fairies still,” sighed Meg ruefully; “it
seems to me there is nothing nice left in the world
at all.”

Meg was sitting under the shade of a tall old elm,
AB and staring with miserable eyes at a round patch of bright

‘green grass. “Fairy rings” the country folk call these
green circles, but Meg had long since given up all a of ever seeing
a fairy.

Poor little Meg! she had no Father or Mother, and lived with her
Aunt, who had a large family of her own and was not very well
pleased to have another mouth to feed. So Meg often went hungry
to bed, and had to put up with many a harsh word she little deserved.

“JT wish there were fairies,” she said aloud, and close beside her
there rang out a soft, silvery little laugh that might have come from
a fairy.







AMheg sat watching the fairy Tings.



52 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Poor little maid!’’ said a kind voice, and a soft arm stole
caressingly around Meg’s shoulders. ‘“ What a doleful little girl it is,
and why do you wish there were fairies still?”

“Tm so miserable,’ said Meg, “no one wants me and I’m no
use to anyone.”

“Ah!” said the lady. “I feel like that too sometimes.”

This Meg could hardly believe. “Why, you are so pretty,” she
said, “you look like a fairy yourself, if only you were smaller.”

“Tm not half so——’ The lady stopped short. She had been
going to say “not half so pretty as you,’ but instead she said: “Well,
I want you now, dear; I want you to sit still under that tree a little
longer, whilst I make a sketch of you for my picture.” So there the
two sat all that pleasant summer afternoon, the lady painting, whilst
Meg poured out the story of her troubles to sympathetic ears.

I think the fairies must have been at work that afternoon. Alice
Graham always said so afterwards, for surely no one but a fairy could
have guided the pretty white hand so skilfully, and made such a lovely
little picture out of poor little Meg under the big elm-tree.

When the shadows began to deepen Alice put her paints away.

“Good-bye, little Meg,” she said; “I shall not forget you!”

Ah! the little wood fairies had heard Meg’s words for certain.
The winter passed away, and spring came round, and with the spring
came the exhibition at the Royal Academy. And then it was that
the fairies left their magic circles and came trooping- up to town to
fit rose-coloured spectacles to the eyes of all who looked upon the
picture of a lovely little maiden, sitting in the shadow of an old elm. |

“Meg, my dear, my dear,’ cried Alice, “you have made my
fortune. A very modest one perhaps, but we will share it together,
and we will never be lonely or sad again.”

And the fairies flew back to their woodland home well pleased,
having left two happy hearts behind them. L. L. Weedon.



NY

ne Farry es oe



= =3HERE was once a Fairy who had a long journey to
“Oo i take, and she had nothing to ride.

ey 4 “T can’t walk, of course,” she said—‘‘no really
oe ‘| superior Fairy would do that—and flying is so very tiring,
Heat especially: in wet weather.”

x Just then a Mouse dashed past, and quick as thought the
4 Fairy leaped upon its back. “You must be my horse,” she cried ;
“take me to Rainbow-land !”

But the Mouse only ran round and round on the floor.

“How hard your back is—you must be very strong. Come—be
off to Rainbow-land!” said the Fairy.

But the Mouse only ran round and round, faster and faster, till
the Fairy felt quite giddy.

“How dare you disobey me?” the Fairy asked angrily.

But the Mouse still ran round and round—and then the Fairy saw
that a big tabby-cat was running after it. Round and round they went.
The Fairy was too frightened even to jump off.

“Run, run,” she cried, “to Rainbow-land !”

“T can’t,’ said the Mouse hoarsely. “I can only run round and
round. I’m a clock-work Mouse.” Fe

“Run for your life!” cried the Fairy, who didn't believe him.
‘“‘Clock-work or not, that cat’ll have you, if you don’t!”

“Not it!” said the Mouse, and it spoke very hoarsely now, for
it was almost run down; “it’s a clock-work cat!”

And the Mouse’s voice died away in a husky “click,” for its
works were quite run down!

So the Fairy had to walk after all. LE. Nesbit.



News ~Seerer.

NC < her anywhere. Poor Baby cried till his pretty

» eyes were all swollen and red, for Nell was
his favourite playmate, and he missed her
dreadfully.

“Never mind, old man,” said Mother, kissing him.
“She'll come back again some day.” And so she did.
One day a little half-starved ragged-looking dog
came creeping up to the nursery, and Baby uttered a
shout of joy. “Mamma, Mamma,’ he cried, “ Nell’s



come back.”

The good little dog licked Baby’s hands and face, and wagged her
tail by way of saying, “ How are you, darling Babs, after all this long
time ?”

But, when Mother set a dish of food before her, she gobbled it
up in no time, and then, scarcely waiting to say “Thank you,’ she
ran out of the nursery, downstairs, and after that no one knew what
had become of her, for she was lost again.

However, the next day she came back again, and the next, and
the next, and one fine morning she trotted up to the nursery, drag-
ging with her the sweetest little puppy you ever saw.

Poor doggie! she was very proud of her little son, but oh! so
frightened lest any harm should come to him.

Mother picked up the fat little fellow and put him on a chair,
and then lifted Baby up to look, and Nell jumped upon the chair
beside her son, and looked piteously up into Mother’s face.

“All right, old dog,” said Mother; “I wouldn't harm your baby























































to see the two doggtes.

Mother lifted up Baby



56 TWILIGHT TALES.

for anything, because you are always so good to mine.” Nell under-
stood in a moment what Mother had said, jumped down from the
chair, and ran towards the door, whining and looking back.

Mother knew she was meant to follow; so she and Baby went
with the little dog, who led them down the garden towards the stables,
and then up into the hayloft, and there, behind a large truss of hay,
they found four other dear little puppies, just like the one Nell had
brought to the nursery.

They carried them into the house, and Baby was allowed to keep
one, which he trained to become a very clever doggie, and the others
were sent to the Home Farm.

And why do you think Nell had kept her secret so well? She
had been afraid that someone would rob her of her darlings; so she
had hidden them up until they were old enough to trot about nicely,
and were so sweet and pretty that she was sure no one would have
the heart to harm them.

L. L. Weedon.



















UST as the Mother was going to make
the tea, she heard a funny, faint voice
from the tea-pot, crying:

“Oh, please don’t scald me with the boiling
water! Take me out! Take me out!”

The Mother, greatly astonished, peeped into
the tea-pot—it was one which she had not used
for some time—and saw there a queer little
man, dressed all in green, with a green cap upon his head.

“How did you get into my tea-pot?” asked she.

“A cruel Fairy put me here,” replied the little man; “please, oh,
please take me out!”

The Mother took him out, and placed him upon the table.
How delighted the children were to see him trotting round and
round, taking tiny sips from their cups, and crumbs from their plates!

“Ts it a doll, Muvver?” asked Baby.

“A doll, indeed!” exclaimed the little green man; “I am no
doll! Did you ever see a doll walk, or hear a doll talk? I ama
man!” And he stood on tip-toe and straightened himself up in
such an amusing fashion that all the children laughed.



on



58 I WGO ENGIN: IPGL IES).

When bed-time came, the little green man was put to bed in
‘the doll’s house. But early in the morning, Dora was awakened
‘by something tickling her nose. Opening her eyes, she saw the
green man standing upon her pillow.

“You darling!” said Dora; “you shall go into the garden with
me, and see my pretty white rabbits.” ioe

Jumping out of bed, she dressed herself as quickly as possible ;
then, with the little man standing on. one hand, and some green
food for her pets in the other hand, she ran down the garden.
When she got to the hutch, she fed the rabbits with the nice, fresh,
juicy cabbage-leaves, while the little man looked on with much
interest. The rabbits were very hungry, and when they had eaten
all the leaves, one of them made a sudden snatch at the little green
man, and ate fim up also. Being rather short-sighted, it mistook
the green man for a leaf.

Such was the sad fate of the little green man! E. Dyke.





AW
\\

Me
AA
SEO

\
\
SS)





“KG
“‘Rupeer Fairy.

HERE are no fairies, did you say? Why,
whatever are we coming to?” said Uncle
James.
“But I’ve never seen one,’ said Harry.
Ne “T daresay not, but what do you suppose
We ae Z, “. makes your ball bounce? Why, the fairy inside
TaN ly it, to be sure.”
“ Harry laughed at the time, but afterwards
he oe help thinking about it. Did fairies really live in india-
rubber balls? If not, what made them bounce ?

He thought and he thought and he thought—and at last he took
out the new brown-handled knife Uncle James had given him, and he
cut a hole in his indiarubber ball.

“Now I shall know!” he said. And he looked inside—but he
was no wiser than before. But that night when he was in bed he
saw a little lady, with gray gauze wings, sitting on his pillow.

“Thank you so much,” she said, “for letting me out. A wicked
enchanter shut me and my million brothers up in balls, and when we
struggle to get out, the balls bounce.”

Then she vanished. Next morning Harry thought he had only
dreamed about her, so he ran to his ball; but there was the hole he
had made, and sure enough the ball never bounced again.

“Because there is no fairy in it,’ Uncle James says.

LL, Nesbit.



5*



ENE Ait tLe Baneine Eire.

eel

|
|
|




oS ~ 4-0 HERE was once a little girl

who was so fond of dancing
that she never did anything
else.

She danced whilst she took
her breakfast, so that her
nice bread-and-milk was spilt
upon the ground; she danced
on her way to school, and
was late in consequence; she
danced when she took her
dinner, and dropped the soup
down her pretty frock and
spoilt it; and even when she
was tucked up in bed at
night, her little feet kept
dancing up and down beneath
the bed-clothes, and she
dreamt that she was treading
a minuet with the King of
the Fairies.

Now, of course this was
very wrong indeed of the little

girl. It is all very well to dance at the proper time, but out of time
and season, as this little girl danced, it is a very bad thing indeed.

Her mother reasoned with her, coaxed her, scolded her; but it
was all of no use, for she danced the more.



INERD IRIGCIPILID. UD UNI GIN CT CIURIE- 6r

The little girls mother was very poor, and there were ever so
many little brothers and sisters who wanted taking care of, but she
was too selfish to think of anyone but herself; sometimes her
mother would ask her to take the baby and hush him to sleep, but
she pouted and grumbled and made a terrible fuss. If she did
take him up in her arms for a while, she kept dancing round the
room with the poor sleepy little fellow, till she wakened him up,
and then he would scream and cry, and would not be soothed till
his mother took him again.

So you see, the foolish little girl was of no use to anyone.

One day when she was dancing to school as usual, she met an
old woman upon the way. And because she stood in the pathway
and the dancing maiden could not pass her easily, she danced
across the old woman’s toes.

Now, it happened that the old woman was a fairy, and. she
was so angry and offended with the little girl that she determined
to punish her.

“You shall have dancing enough to last you all the days of
your life,” she said, and with a wave of her wand, she turned her
into a chimneéy-cowl, which, as everyone knows, does nothing the
livelong day, but whirl round and round till it almost makes one
giddy to watch it. And the next time you go out for a walk, you
have only to look upwards to where the chimneys grow, and you
may see for yourself the little dancing-girl, who was so rude as to
tread upon the fairy’s toes, going whirl, whirl! the whole day long,
whether she will or no.

And the moral of this story is—“Don’t dance out of time and
season, and don’t tread) upon old women’s toes, or there is no
knowing but what you may be turned into a chimney-cowl also.”

“. L. Weedon.



ft wordy ~WaR.

Oe ed



af V4 YEE up, Dobbin! Gee up! Whoa! There, now! you've
A ss acy fallen down. Jump up; don’t cry, Eddie.”
BAC FS “Oh, oh! look: I’se hurted my poor knee,’ sobbed
a * the little fellow.
\ “Never mind; it will soon be better,” cried his sister

RR. soothingly. “See, I will put my handkerchief round it, like
Mother does.”

“Robin,” whispered Mrs. Jenny Wren, “what's all that hubbub ?”

“Why, it’s those children from Myrtle Cottage,’ said Robin;
“they've been playing at horses, and one of them has fallen down and
hurt his knee.”

“Dear, dear! how foolish to let the poor things out to play on
such a cold, frosty morning,” said Jenny.

“Rubbish!” cried Robin. “Not at all, my dear. Children can’t
be cooped up in the nest all day long.’

“In the nest!” laughed Jenny. “ You stupid old Robin—children
don’t live in nests!”

“Well, houses,” said Robin crossly. “But it’s all the same; and
as I was about to say when you interrupted me so unkindly—children
as well as birds want to exercise their legs and wings.”

“Ha! ha! ha! you really must excuse my laughing,” said Jenny,
“but did you say ‘wings, Robin?”

“Yes, I did,’ answered Robin crossly. ‘I suppose I ought to
have said ‘arms’; but since I can't open my beak without being
corrected, I'll wish you good-morning, and go away.”

“Don't be cross, Bobby,” whispered his little wife coaxingly.

But Robin was very cross, and flew down into Sweetbriar Lane,



A WORDY WAR. 63

muttering to himself, “I shouldn’t fly away only it’s too bad of Jenny
always picking me up like that; so I'll just take a peep at those
children, and see if Eddie’s left off crying yet. I’m sure he can have
nothing to cry for. He’s not corrected and laughed at from morning
till night.”

When Robin reached the ground, Eddie’s little sister was saying,





64 TWILIGHT TALES.

“You're all right now, Dobbin. So off you go again.” And Eddie
stood, tossing his head up and down, ready to start.

“Where shall we do?” said the little fellow.

“Oh, Eddie!” cried his little sister, “you mustn’t say ‘do.’ Only
babies talk like that, and mous on like to be thought a baby,
would you? You must say ‘go.’

But Eddie, who did not like being corrected any more ee the
Robin, ran off into the middle of the lane, and kept repeating, “Do,
do,” and stamping with all his might. “You're a very naughty boy,”
said the little girl severely, “and I shan’t let you play horses again.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Eddie; “me dood now!”

“Why, that’s wrong, too,’ laughed the little sister; “you ave a
baby! Why don’t you say ‘good’ like I do?”

“Me won't! me run away!” And off he scampered as fast as
his chubby legs could carry him.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Robin Redbreast; “she’s worse than
my Jenny. No wonder the little chap’s run away from her.”

Just then Nurse, who was getting anxious about her little charges,
came running out into the lane. “Where’s Eddie?” she said.

“Oh, Nurse, he’s run away!” cried the little girl; “he was so
cross because I corrected him.”

“Ah, there’s two ways of doing that,” said Nurse. .“ You made
fun of him now, didn’t you?”

“Yes, she did,’ whispered the Robin, but the little girl said
nothing, only hung her head as though she were sorry and ashamed.
“Well,” said Nurse, “we must go and find him, Miss Jenny.”

“Why, her name’s Jenny too—how extraordinary!” exclaimed
Robin. “Then the Jennys must be all alike for poking fun at folks.
I'll fly back now to our tree, and hear what Mrs. Wren thinks of the
quarrel. Well, my dear wife,’ began Robin, nestling close up beside
her, “did you hear those children quarrelling just now?”

“Yes, Bobby,” said Jenny.



A WORDY WAR. 65

“And now that you see how horrid it is,” said Robin, “you
won't be always finding fault with me—eh, my dear?”

“No,” said Jenny. “I shall never correct you unless you ask me.”

“But how can I ask if I don’t know what’s wrong?” said Robin.

“J don't know,” said Jenny slyly. “You will have to stay
ignorant, I’m afraid, my dear.”

“But I shan’t like that, for then you'd soon be more clever than
‘I. No, that would never do—you must correct me, Jenny, sometimes.”

“Very well,’ chirped his little wife; “so I will; only promise
that you won't be too proud to be taught.” ,

Robin promised, and just then Nurse and Eddie and his little
sister came slowly up.the lane. Eddie was saying, “Me dood boy
now,” over and over again; and Jenny, who was walking with her
arm round his neck, did not attempt to correct him. “Poor little
chap; I’m glad they've found him,” said Robin, peeping down from
the tree. “I’m sure he'll be glad enough to get back to his nest.” '

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Jenny Wren. ‘Why won't he say
‘house’? I know I ought to put him right, but I can’t begin correcting

him again so soon; and after all, a nest’s as good as a house any day.”
L. Haskell.





XY O

eI Ce5 Toreet-me - NOT.



WANE upon a time there lived a King and -
aN Queen who had an only daughter. And
because her pretty blue eyes were just
the colour of the little blossoms that
grew by the brook-side the little Princess
was called “ Forget-me-not.”

Forget-me-not was as beautiful as
the sunshine, but she was not a very
happy little Princess, because. unfortu-
nately she had been born with a glass
heart; and her parents were so afraid
lest it should be broken that they would
never allow her to run about and play
as little children love to do, but she
was always made to walk sedately along with a lady-in-waiting on
either side to see that she did not fall.

So much care was taken, that the Princess grew up to be a
beautiful young maiden of eighteen without any accident having
happened to her. But upon her eighteenth, birthday she was sitting
by the open window looking out into the world, thinking how beautiful
it was, when presently she saw a gallant knight come riding past.

He looked so happy and gay, and he sang such a merry strain
as he rode along, that the Princess sighed as she watched him.

“I wish I might go out into the world,” she said sadly. “It is
so lonely here. Oh, dear! if only my heart were not made of glass!”

But the knight rode on, singing as he went, and the Princess
leaned from her window to watch him out of sight.



PRINCESS FORGET-ME-NOT. 67

‘And as she looked she forgot all about her glass heart and that
she was a Princess and the daughter of a great King and Queen; she
only thought what a happy face the young knight had, and how
beautiful were his soft violet eyes. Alas, for the Princess! Just at that
moment a lady-in-waiting appeared and uttered an exclamation of
horror as she saw the dangerous position of her young mistress.

This startled the Princess, and with a cry, she fell from the window
upon the greensward below. It was not very far to fall, but
princesses with glass hearts are more delicate than most people. The
misfortune which her parents had guarded against so carefully had
happened at last—her heart was broken!

What was to be done nobody knew, but the Queen decided to
send at once for the Princess's fairy godmother and see if she could
help them. “Send for the knight who caused the mischief,” the fairy
decreed, and at once the knight was summoned. The fairy godmother
then told him about the poor little Princess. “There is only one thing
to be done,” she said. “If you would save the Princess’s life you
must give her your own heart in place of the one she has broken.”

She led the knight, whose name was “Prince Heartsease,’ into
the room where the little lady lay, and no sooner did he look upon
her sweet gentle face, and gaze into her lovely blue eyes, than the
tears of pity welled up into Ais eyes, and he fell on his knees beside
the silken couch, and laid his warm, true heart at the feet of little
Forget-me-not. The surprising thing was that the knight seemed not
a whit the worse for the loss of his heart, and as for the Princess,
she rose up from her couch as bright and healthy a little maiden as
one could wish to see.

_~ So all ended happily, for the Princess had gained a warm, tiving
heart in place of her glass one, and the knight won a bride; for he
and Forget-me-not were married that very day, and lived happily ever
afterwards. L. L, Weedon.








\ @ HERE were two robins in the orchard hedge last
Spring. They had a dear little nest, and two bluey
eggs, and they were as happy as anyone need
wish to be.
But one.day a Boy came by, and he went off with
f the two eggs in a pill-box. Then the little robins sat
( and cried all night.
But when they looked into the nest in the morning
y they saw where the two bluey eggs had been a small pink



» egg—-the colour of apple-blossoms.
- “T shall hatch this egg,” said Mrs. Robin firmly. ‘Poor
little deserted thing!”

“Take care it doesn’t turn out a cuckoo,” said her husband.

But when the orchard was all pink and white with blossom, the
egg was hatched, and out of it came no cuckoo but a real live Fairy
in a pink gown.

She kissed the Robins again and again. “You dears!” she said.
“A wicked enchanter shut me up in that pink egg—and you know
the only way to get anything alive out of an egg is to hatch it!
So you've saved me. And—well, you'll see.’ And she shook out
her gauzy wings and fluttered off.

Suddenly the Robins heard a faint “Tweet, tweet.” Mrs. Robin
flew to the nest, and there were two baby robins, and the Pink Fairy
was sitting on the edge of the nest. And hundreds of pink apple-blossom
fairies were crowding round.



THE PINK EGG. 69

“They are your very own babies,” said the Pink Fairy. “While
you were hatching me, my brothers and sisters stole your eggs from
the Boy, and they've been hatched in Fairyland.”

7



\

wo

’ And that’s why two of the -robins. in our orchard sing more
sweetly than any other robins in the world.
They were hatched in Fairyland, you know, and of course that

makes all the difference.
, E. Nesbitt.



ro. Ce, Cariatmas
PREG PuNen.




OU mustn’t go into the dining-room, children,”
said Mother, popping her head in at the
schoolroom. door.

“All right, Mother!” Jack and Dorothy
and Eva called after her, but Jim didn’t
say anything.

He was the naughty boy of the family,
and went by the name of “ Jim the Terrible,’ and I am afraid he
very often deserved his name.

When the others went to say good-night to Mother, Jim paused
outside the dining-room door; it was open just the least little bit in
the world, and he peeped in and saw a wonderful tree, standing in
the middle of the room, laden with toys.

Right at the top hung a Punch doll, dressed in satin and tinsel,
and he shone and glittered so that Jim could see him better than the
other toys.

But his Mother called to him, so he could not wait to examine
the tree more closely.

When the children were in bed Jim made up his mind to lie
awake, and as soon as the others were asleep, he stole softly down-
stairs to have another look at the Christmas-tree.

The room was a blaze of light now, and the Punch doll at the
top shook his staff at Jim as soon as he entered.



ae

THE CHRISTMAS TREE PUNCH. 71

“Oh! you naughty boy,” he cried. “You Terrible Jim. What
do you mean by coming here when your Mother told you not to go
near the dining-room! I'll teach you to disobey! Oh—o—o—o—!
Go to bed! go to bed!”

All the while Punch was speaking he was growing larger and larger,
until at last he seemed as big as the giant in the pantomime, and then
he gave a terrific jump from the top of the tree, and began to chase
Jim upstairs.

Oh! how the little boy ran, with Punch close behind him all
the time.

At length he reached the nursery, and with a Banna sprang into
his bed and tucked the clothes up round him. There he lay trembling
for ever such a time, but when at length he ventured to peep out,
the nursery was quite dark, and Punch had evidently gone away, so
he curled himself up and went to sleep.

The next day when the children were called in to the forbidden
room, they simply danced and screamed with delight when they saw
the beautiful Christmas-tree.

At least all except Jim, for when he looked at the Punch doll
on the top of the tree, it seemed to him that it was frowning at
him, and he made up his mind never to peep through cracks of doors
again, when it was forbidden him, ve much he might want to
know what was behind them.

Now, before he had made this good resolution he had been thor-
oughly miserable.

He could take no pleasure at all in the beautiful presents which
Mother gathered for them from the Christmas-tree, for all the time
he was watching the Punch doll to see if he would come down from
his perch and chase him upstairs again.

No sooner did he resolve to be a better boy in future than the
expression on Punch’s face changed in a most surprising manner: he
seemed almost to smile at Jimmy.



72 TWILIGHT TALES.

Even when the tree was stripped of everything except Punch,
and the children were busy pulling the plums out of the big snap-
dragon Father had lighted, Jimmy fancied the old fellow nodded his
head at him once or twice in a friendly fashion, and the little boy
was so relieved and happy that he clapped his hands for joy, and

shouted with the rest.
L. L. Weedon.








ity
{ti}

» ri

=



Bae Snow Wien.

HIER €E was skating on the ponds

where the snow had been cleared ;
there were icicles on the trees, nice
blue, clear skies in the daytime,
cold, bright, wintry moonlight at
night.

Lovely weather for Christmas
holidays! But to one little five-
year-old man, nothing had seemed
lovely this Christmas, though he was spending it with his Father and
Mother and his big sisters at Grandpapa’s beautiful old country-house,
where everybody did all that could be done to make Grandpapa’s
guests happy..

For poor little Roger was pining for his elder brother, Lawson,
whom he had not seen for more than four months. Lawson was
eight, and had been at school since Michaelmas, and there he had
caught a fever which had made it not safe for him to join the rest
of the family till the middle of January. But he was coming to-morrow.

Why, then, did Roger still look sad and gloomy ?

“Stupid little boy,” said Mabel. ‘I’m sure we've tried to amuse
him. Why, Mamma let him sit up an hour later than usual last night,
to hear all those funny old fairy tales and legends Uncle Bob was
telling.”

“Yes, and weren't they fun?” answered Pansy. “I did shiver at
the witch ones, though, didn’t you?”

Poor little Roger! Pansy’s shivering was nothing to his! They
had all walked home from the Vicarage, tempted by the clear frosty







74. DWIGHT ATES.

moonlight, and the hard, dry ground; and trotting along, a little behind
the others, a strange thing had happened to the boy. [Fancy—in the
field by the Primrose Lane, through the gateway, right in a bright band
of moonlight, he had seen a witch! Just such a witch as Uncle Bob
had described—with shadowy garments, and outstretched arms, and a
queer-shaped head, on all of which the icicles were sparkling, just as
Uncle Bob had said. For it was a winter-witch he had told the story
about, whose dwelling was up in the frozen northern seas ; “the Snow
Witch” they called her.

Cold as it was, Roger was in a bath of heat, his heart beating
wildly, his legs shaking, when he overtook his sisters. And the night
that followed was full of terrible dreams and starts, and misery, even
though nurse and Baby were next door, and he could see the night-
light through the chinks.

If it had not been that Lawson was coming—Lawson, who never
laughed at him or called him “stupid little goose”; Lawson, who
listened to all his griefs— Roger could not have borne it. For, strange
to say, the little fellow told no one of his trouble; he felt as if he
could ondy tell Lawson.

No wonder he looked pale and sad and spiritless; there was still
another dreadful night to get through before Lawson came.

But things sometimes turn out better than our fears. Late that
afternoon, when nursery tea was over and bed-time not far off, there
came the sound of wheels and then a joyful hubbub. Lawson had
come! Uncle Bob had been passing near the school where he was,
and had gone a little out of his way to pick him up. Everyone was
delighted—though of them all, zone so thankful as Roger.

“Though I won't tell him to-night,” decided the unselfish little
fellow, “not to spoil his first night. I shan’t mind when I know he’s
in his cot beside me.” And even when Lawson lovingly asked him
if anything were the matter, he kept to his resolution.

But he awoke in the middle of the night from a terrible dream ;



THE SNOW WITCH. 75

Lawson awoke too, and then—out it all came. “I thought she was
coming in at the window,” Roger ended. “If—if you look out— it’s
moonlight—-I think p’raps you'll see where she stands. But no, no;
don't—don’t,; she might see you.”

So Lawson agreed to wait till to-morrow. “I have an idea,” he

Oy



said. “You go to sleep. J’m here, and you can say your prayers again
if you like.”

Lawson was up very early next morning. And as soon as break-
fast was over he told Roger to come out with him. Down the Prim-
rose Lane they went, in spite of Roger’s trembling.



76 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Now, shut your eyes,” said Lawson, when they got to the gate.
He opened it, and led his brother through.

“Look, now!” he said, with a merry laugh. And what do you
think Roger saw ?

An old scarecrow, forgotten since last year. There she stood, the
“Snow Witch’—an apron and ragged shawl, two sticks for arms, a bit
of Grandpapa’s hat to crown all—that was the witch !

“Shake hands with her, Roger,’ said Lawson. And shake hands
they both did, till the old scarecrow tumbled to pieces, never more
to frighten either birds or little boys. ‘Dear Lawson,” said Roger
lovingly, as he held up his little face for a kiss. And happy, indeed,
were the rest of the Christmas holidays. L. Molesworth.

pine laceee
Sa Cn INGOOKS.

: 4 LLIE,” said Mother, stopping, “I have forgotten the soap!
a You must take the children home, dear, while I go
— back.”
‘I oe So Ellie went on with the flock. But when they
> came to thé Ferry and shouted for Tom to bring the boat, no

Tom answered.

“We must wait,” said Ellie.

But after a while the children grew tired and hungry, and Baby
began to cry for Mother.

“Oh! don’t cry, Baby, darling,’ exclaimed Ellie; “don’t cry, and

Tl tell you about—about the little Chingooks!”

‘Who were the Chingooks?” cried the children, fergetting their
troubles at the idea of a story.







THE LITTLE CHINGOOKS. a7

“There were five of them,’ said Ella, “and they were all alike,
and they always went for a walk hand-in-hand. One day they saw
a little red house, with a cherry-tree in the garden, covered with such
big cherries, and an old lady came out and gave them one each.

“Take care of the stones, she said, ‘and when you want anything
very much, plant them and see what comes!’

“So they went a little farther, and there was a beautiful Palace,
and the Prince who lived in it was just going to be married. Now,
the Chingooks wanted to go to the wedding, but the people said they
must take a present to the bride; then they remembered their
cherry-stones.

“So the first Chingook planted his cherry-stone, and up came a
damson-tree, all covered with damson cheeses. He took them to
the Palace, and they said they were just what they wanted for the
wedding breakfast.

“And the second Chingook planted his, and up came a dandelion
all over clocks, and the Prince was charmed, for all the thyme had
grown wild at the Palace!

“And the third Chingook pianted his, and up came a gooseberry-
bush, and pop! out came a lot of sweet little geese, and they said
they would do for Michaelmas.

“And the fourth Chingook planted his, and up came a Jacob's
Ladder, and that did splendidly, because the Palace roof wanted
mending, and they did not know how to get at it!

“And the fifth Chingook planted his stone, and up came a Turk’s
Cap Lily. So he put it on, and then they thought he was the great
Panjandrum himself, and asked him to take the head of the table!

_ “So all the five Chingooks were at the Prince’s wedding, and they
danced till Oh! oh!” shouted Ellie, “there's dear old Mrs. Tom!
She will bring the boat, and we shall get home by tea-time.”

M. A. Hoyer.





Bur rack at.

NCE upon a time there were three little kittens
who set out to seek their fortunes.. The first kitten
found a ‘big barn. “Ah,” he said, “this is a good
enough fortune for me.” And he stayed there, and
the rats and the mice: who lived in the barn were
very much annoyed. And the second kitten walked
in at the dairy dwor, and the dairymaid said: “You
pretty tabby thing, you shall stay with me.”

“That’s good enough fortune,” said the kitten, and he lives on
cream to this day, and he is so fat that he is quite round.

But our black cat (who was the third kitten) was more adven-
turous. He was running after a young sparrow, and not looking



where he was going, so he fell plump into a well, and there would
certainly have been an end of him, but that a good-sized Fairy, who
lived in that well, and happened to want a cat, pulled him out of the
water, and helped him to scramble up on to a ledge in the well-side.

“Now,” said she, “will you be my horse and let me ride on you
on fine nights?”

“Yes,” mewed the kitten, shivering; “if I must, I must.”

Then the Fairy opened her front door, which was in the side
of the well, and took the wet kitten into her palace, where there was
a blazing fairy fire. Fairy servants came and dried the kitten, and
gave him warm milk to drink.

“Ah,” said the kitten, “you are something like a Fairy. I will
be your horse with pleasure.”



OUR BLACK CAT. 79

“That’s better,” said the Fairy. “The willing horse does the most
work, but he gets the most pay too. You shall never be cold, or
hungry, or frightened again.”

And she sent the kitten home at once by fairy telegraph.



That's why our black cat sleeps all day. He has to go out all
night for the Fairy to ride him. He seems just like an ordinary cat:

to look at him, you'd never think he was the Fairy’s horse. But he is.
E, Nesbit.



C

eer el | Soe
=f 2 ee 7"
! lea HERE was once a little yellowy-brown rabbit, who

was so proud that there was no bearing him.
He ran away from home and went to live with
some strange rabbits. “I have a right to be
proud,” he said, “because my parents are Belgian
hares.” But he looked so exactly like the other
rabbits that no one believed him, and they
turned him out for boasting.

So he went to live in the cucumber-frame,
and as the gardener did not notice him he
S.._-- ihad rather a good time of it. But presently
the cucumbers were all over, and then the gardener shut up the frame
and went away. And then the bunny grew hungrier and hungrier,
and he cried aloud, but no one would help him. “It serves him right
for being so proud,’ said the other rabbits.

But his mother, who lived quite on the other side of the field,
heard him cry, and she came jumping on to the cucumber-frame with
such a bounce that she broke the glass and tumbled in. ‘Come home
this minute,” she said. “I'll teach you to run away from home.”

As she took him past the strange rabbits they all called out:
“Fiullo, Stuck-up, where are you off to?”

“Fle’s going home to his father and mother,’ said Mrs. Bunny.

“But he said his father and mother were Belgian hares.”

“Belgian fiddlesticks!” said his mother. “I'll teach him to be
ashamed of his family!” So she took him home by the ear. He's quite
a different bunny now, and works hard to support his old father and.
mother, as all good rabbits should. £. Nesbit.











JOMMY was a terrible tease, and poor little
Mamie came in for most of the teasing.
Tommy wasn’t really an unkind little
boy, but he was very thoughtless, and very
often he led Mamie into all sorts of scrapes.
One day he persuaded her to play at Indians
with him; he screwed up her hair into tight
knots, made her shut her eyes and then blacked
her face. When the little girl looked in the
mirror over the mantelpiece and saw how ugly
she was, she ran out of the room, meaning to
go to Nurse to be washed clean again; but
Tommy ran after her, and, just as she was
passing the drawing-room door, he gave her a



push, and in she went, right into the middle of
a group of ladies who were visiting her Mamma. Oh! how angry
Mamma was, for she thought Mamie had done it on purpose.

But what hurt Mamie’s feelings the most was the way in which
Tommy treated her dolls. He didn’t like dolls himself, and he couldn't
understand how his sister cow/d love a silly wax thing. But she did.
She thought Rosalind was the sweetest and loveliest of babies.

One day Tommy bought a penny squirt. He played for a long
time at storms at sea with it, sailing his boat on a big pan of water
‘that stood out in the garden, and squirting at it until it sank.

But he grew tired of this, and then he began to squirt Rosalind,
as she lay cuddled up in Mamie’s arms.

Poor Rosalind! Mamie tried hard to protect her, but in vain.
G



82 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Tt’s only an April shower,” said Tommy, laughing. “It won't hurt her.”
But dolly was soon wet through, and the last remaining bit of pink
on her cheeks came off when Mamie dried her.

The next day Mamie told some of her friends of her troubles,
and the little girls put their heads together to think how they could
punish Tommy. “I know,” said Elsie Martin. And then there was a
great deal of whispering and laughing, after which the little girls parted.

Tommy was going out to tea that afternoon, and as he passed
the end of the garden wall, dressed out in his best, a sudden shower
of water was squirted all over him, spoiling his nice clean suit.

Tommy looked up in astonishment, for it was not raining; then
he heard a great deal of giggling and someone called out: “It’s only
an April shower; it won't hurt you!”

Tommy didn’t say a word, but marched straight home, for he
knew he couldn’t go to his tea-party as he was. Mamie met him at
the door. “I’m so sorry,’ she said, for she had already begun to
repent of what she had done. “Won't you forgive me?”

“Never mind, Mamie,” said Tommy. “It served me right, and
I’m sorry I squirted Rosalind, and I'll never tease you again.”

L. L. Weedon.
: (lw,
FON son RN
see
Cy es 4








We, \\ h of











“\ NCE there was a little boy called Tommy. His Mother

# sent him one day into the town to buy some needles.
On his way home he got tired of carrying them, so when
he saw a hay-cart which he knew would pass his
Mother’s door he stuck the needles into a bundle
of hay. When he got home his Mother said: “Well,
Tommy, and where are the needles?”

“Oh! Mother, they will be here directly. I was tired of carrying
them, so I stuck them into a hay-cart which is coming this way, and
it will soon be here.”

“Oh, you stupid boy, Tommy! you stupid boy! If you were
tired of carrying the needles you should have stuck them into your
coat.”

“Tl do better next time, Mother; I'll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into the
town and fetch a pound of butter?”





84 TWILIGHT TALES.

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of butter, and put it all
over his coat. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, T ommy,
and where’s the butter?”

“T put it all over my coat, but the sun melted it.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put it on a nice
white plate and covered it with a piece of white paper.”

“Oh! I'll do better next time, Mother; Ill do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has
given us a little hen. Will you go and fetch it?”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. Off he went, fetched the little hen, and
put it ona white plate; but before he could put a nice piece of white
paper over it, it had flown’ quite away!

When he got home, his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where
is the little hen?”

“Oh! Mother, I did what you told me; I put it on a white plate,
but before I could cover it with a piece of paper it flew quite away.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You ought to
have put it in a wicker basket and shut down the lid.”

“T’ll do better next time, Mother; I'll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, there is a plum-
pudding for dinner. Go and fetch a pound of brown sugar.”

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of sugar, and put it in a
wicker basket, and shut the lid down tight. When he got home his
Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where’s the sugar ?”

“Here it is, Mother, here it is.” And he opened the basket, but
it was quite empty, for all the sugar had tumbled through the holes
in the wicker-work !

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put the sugar in
a paper bag and tied a piece of string very tightly round it.”

“T'll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

Some time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has
promised us a dear little puppy dog. Will you go and fetch it?”



THE STORY OF TOMMY. 85

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, fetched the little puppy
dog, put it in a paper bag, and tied a piece of string very tightly
round its neck. When he got home and opened the bag, the poor
little puppy was quite dead.

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You should
have tied a string quite loosely round the little dog’s neck, and let it
run after you, and you should have called, ‘ Hi, little dog!’”

“T'll do better next time, Mother,” said Tommy, crying.

A long time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into
the town and fetch a leg of mutton? Now, mind you bring it home
very carefully.”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, bought a leg of mutton,
tied a piece of string round it, and dragged it after him on the ground,
and said: “Hi, little dog! Ho, little dog!” and all the little dogs in
the town came after him and ate the mutton, and when he got home
there was nothing left but the bone!

When his Mother saw it, she said: “Really, Tommy, you are foo
stupid; you really are gute a goose.”

A little while after, Tommy was nowhere to be found. His
Mother hunted everywhere for him; she cried “Tommy!” here and
“Tommy!” there, but she could not find him. As she was coming
through the yard and crying and calling, “Tommy! where’s my boy
Tommy?” she heard a little voice that seemed to come from the
poultry-house: “Here I am, Mother; here I am!”

She opened the door, and there was Tommy sitting on the goose’s
nest. She asked him what he was doing, and he said: “Oh! Mother,
you said I was quite a goose, so I thought I had better come and sit
on the goose’s nest, and I’ve broken all the eggs!”

Wasn't he a silly boy ? Constance ALlilman.



NCE upon a time there was a good and beautiful
Princess, who had heard that “Truth” was at the
bottom of a well; so she went to look for it.

Of course, she did not know which well, and —
before she found the right one she had got quite
tired of being let down in buckets by long ropes.

But at last she came to a well in the dark-
est part of a pine wood, and her heart told her

that here her search would end. So she looked down, and saw the
bright circle of shining water far, far below.

“But how am I to get down?” she said.

And just then the son of the wood-reeve came by.

“Shall I go down for you, pretty lady?” he asked.

“T must go myself,” she answered. “My fairy godmother said so.”

So she got into the bucket and he lowered her very carefully.
And when she got down she found that the shining circle she had
seen was not water but a mirror, and on its frame was written oné
word—“ Truth.”

She came up with the mirror held fast in her arms, and she
thanked the wood-reeve’s son and went home.

Now, when in due time came suitors for her hand, the Princess
said to each: “How do you like my mirror?” And one after the
other they looked in the mirror, and then fled with shrieks of fear.

The King and Queen looked in the mirror and beheld only their
good and noble faces.

“What frightens the Princes, your suitors?’ they asked.





THE MIRROR OF TRUTH. | By

Then the Princess told them that this was the Mirror of: Truth,
and that those who looked in it saw their own true natures.

“The Princes, my suitors, had wicked hearts,” she said, “and when
they saw their true selves they were afraid.”



And no good Prince came there to woo, so the years went on
and the Princess was still unwed.

One day, walking in the forest, the Princess met once again the
wood-reeve’s son, but he was grown a man, and as soon as the



88 PWILIGHT TALES.

Princess saw him she loved him. She ran and brought her mirror.

“Are you afraid to look in it?” she said. “It is the Mirror of Truth.”
“Why should I be afraid?” he asked. And he looked in the

mirror, and the Princess, leaning over his shoulder, looked too.

He started back with a cry. “I am not like that,’ he said. For
the mirror had shown him a face like his own but a thousand times
more beautiful, for it revealed now the full glory of his noble nature.
And as the Princess looked in the mirror she read his inmost heart.

“Why, you love me,” she said softly.

“I have loved you ever since I first saw you,” he said.

And when the King and Queen saw his face reflected in the
mirror they said: “Take our daughter, for you alone are worthy of her.”

So they were married, and the wood-reeve’s son is King of all



the land. E. Nesbit.
a S JSNEw aS tHIp.
Seren ’ .
\ /AHERE are you off to, children?” said Mother. She
was just stepping into the carriage to pay a round of

visits when Geoffrey and his sister came running out
of the house in a state of breathless excitement.

“We're going down to the river to sail my ship, Mother,” said
Geoffrey. “I'l look after Rosie and see that she comes to no harm.”

“My dear boy, I couldn’t think of letting you go by yourselves,”
said Mother. ‘Father will be home to-morrow, and then he will take
you,” she added, as she saw the children’s eager faces begin to
cloud over. Then she kissed them both, got into the carriage, and
drove away.

“It's a jolly shame!” said Geoffrey crossly. “As if we should








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90 TWILIGHT TALES.

come to any harm! Why, I’m as well able to take care of you as
Father. Of course I shouldn’t let you fall in.”

“Well, it’s no use,” sighed Rosie; “we can’t go, so we may as
well think of something else to do.”

A rebellious frown gathered on Geoffrey’s face. “I’m going to the
river,” he said; “I shall only stay a few minutes to see how the
‘Dancing Polly’ sails. Mother will never know!”

Rosie hesitated a minute, but when she saw Geoffrey running down
the drive without, her, it was too much, and off she went after him.

For a whole hour the children spent a most delightful time sailing
the “Dancing Polly,” but alas! the crew, which consisted of a wooden
doll, fell overboard, and in stretching over to rescue it Rosie lost her
balance and toppled into the river.

Geoffrey shrieked for help. “Rosie's drowning! Rosie's drowning !”
he cried, and in a moment someone came dashing down the bank,
there was a plunge, a moment of dreadful suspense, and then Rosie
was lying on the grass with Father standing over her. Yes, it was
Father, who was a captain in the Royal Navy, and who had come.
home from sea a whole day before he was expected.

“However did your Mother come to let you two mites go off to
the river by yourselves?” said Father on their way home.

Geoffrey hung his head for a moment, and then, like a brave little
man, he told his Father all the truth.

“Ah! Geoff, my boy,” said his Father, “you'll never make a sailor
if you can’t obey orders !”

And what did Mother say ?

Why, not one angry word, for no sooner did Geoffrey see her
than he burst into tears, and Mother put her loving arms round him
and whispered: “My darling, I know you won't disobey me again!”

And Geoffrey never did. L. L. Weedon.



TCASTLES IN THe AIR.



OTHER’S out, Mary!” said Nettie
from the corner of the sofa.

“Are you sure, Miss Nettie ?
She didn’t tell me she was
going out.”

“She told me to tell you,
Mary, but I quite forgot,” said
the little girl truthfully. “I was
playing at Kings and Queens,
and Fluff was a Prince. We
were just going in to a grand
feast when you opened the door.
I’m sorry I didn’t remember to
tell you, because now you've
_ had all the trouble of making tea
for nothing. But, oh! Mary, it
would make a lovely feast for
Prince Florizel.”

Nettie looked at Mary so
coaxingly that the good-hearted
girl couldn’t refuse her. Mary had a very soft corner in her heart
for Nettie. So she put the tray down on a little table, and told
Nettie that if she would promise to be very careful she might play
at being a grand lady and take tea in the drawing-room.

“Mind,” she said, “you mustn’t move the tray.”

As soon as Nettie was alone again, she began to build fresh
castles in the air. She was a Queen, and was giving a party ;



92 TWILIGHT TALES.

there were lords and ladies and ‘dukes and all sorts of grand people
sitting round the room. Fluff was Prince Florizel again, though I’m
sorry to say he did not behave very like a prince.

It was rather unfortunate that there was no one to hand the
feast round. “I'll pretend I’m a footman, in crimson and gold,”
said Nettie; “then when everyone is served I can be the Queen
again and drink up the tea.” So she jumped up and carried the tray
across the room towards the big armchair, where the King was supposed
to be sitting; but alas! Prince Florizel trotted along before her just
where she couldn’t see him, and Nettie tumbled over him.

Crash went the tray, and oh! what a smash there was. The tea
and the milk streamed all over the pretty carpet. In. an instant
the lords and ladies disappeared, so did Prince Florizel, and there
was no one left, except a frightened little girl and a naughty little
kitten.

“Oh! what will Mother say?” said poor Nettie.

And what Mother said was this— .

“Tf my little girl would only give up building so many castles
in the air, perhaps she would remember to be a little more obedient,
and would not get sent to bed quite so often.”

And later on a little white-robed figure, sitting up in her crib
all by herself, made up her mind that in future she really would
try and remember what people said to her; and of course, as she
really tried, she succeeded, and the last time I heard of her, she
had not been sent to bed for being naughty for a whole year.

L. L. Weedon.





cANAHAT COMES OF QUARRELLING.



HE dolls were all lying on the Nursery
floor, just where Ethel had left them. You know,
dolls are only fairies who have been naughty, and
are punished by being turned into dolls until they
are good again. Now, Ethel’s dolls happened to be
seven fairy sisters who had been turned into dolls
because they would quarrel so.

As they lay on the floor, the clock struck twelve,
and suddenly a soft glowing greeny light filled the

! untidy Nursery. The Queen of all the fairies was
there. She waved her wand, and all the dollies became fairies.

“Will you be good now?” said the Fairy Queen.

“Oh! yes,” said they, all together.

“Very well,” said the Queen; “I will give you leave to turn into
fairies for an hour every night, when the clock strikes twelve, and if
at the end of the week I find you have learned to live together
without quarrelling, you shall come back to Fairyland.”

So they thanked her, and she vanished.

And the first night the dollies all turned into fairies as the clock
struck twelve, and they were very happy and very kind and _ polite.
And so they were the second night—and the third too. But on the
fourth night, the eldest one—who was the best wax doll in the day-
time—said to the youngest—who, when she was not a fairy, was the
wooden doll—something unkind about “wooden-headed people.”

“Tm not stuffed with bran, at any rate,” said the youngest.

“You're not stuffed at all—you’re wooden all through,’ sneered
the other. ‘hen the other dolls all joined in the quarrel, some taking





94 : TWILIGHT TALES.

one side and some the other, and they only stopped being disagree-
able when the clock struck one, and they had to turn into dolls again.
Even then they all looked so savage that Ethel said next morning:
“Flow cross all the dolls do look!” Nurse said it was fancy, but it
wasn't. And the next night, directly they could speak, they began
to say disagreeable things, and so they did on the next.

And suddenly their wrangling was hushed—for the Queen stood
among them. What she said I leave you to guess—but Ethel’s dolls
have never spoken again, and I don’t believe they ever will.

So you see what comes of quarrelling. LZ. Nesbitt.
i
\ Ve
Ne Galan ? :
ee RAT PRINCESS.
ee:





CVE was once a Princess who was very beautiful,
, a but she was not very kind. She was always
Bes S - climbing trees in the Palace garden to take birds’

yo, yx nests, and putting walnut-shells on the feet of the
Palace Pussy, and all little living things were afraid
of her. Her page loved her, and she knew it,
but she was very unkind to him.

One day she threw a stone at a rat she saw
on the river's brink. “ Horrid thing!” she cried. She expected the
rat to run away, but instead, it turned round and looked at her
till the Princess shook in her golden shoes.

“Horrid, am 1?” said the rat, and the Princess nearly jumped
out of her royal skin, she was so startled. “Well, if Z am horrid,
you shall be horrid too.”

And the rat dived into the water. The Princess felt giddy and



Full Text


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The Baldwin Library



(RnB win




TALES
FOLD in tue TIL

























| [CV

fom Pena + Ghey.


La “VOLUME OF
VERY HORT OTORIE

BY
OMI Vie MOLE SWwiole iia:
€ Nesina, LL WECDEREe
SIMLY BENNETT, ME QoLéeswortr,

“With AN INYRODUCTION BY
Ce ate WD 1a. CAE NOD Ole SNe acne Clon

Lenovo: New Yorn:
ERNEST NISTER, &. P. DUTTON & &9

Printed in Bavaria
CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Dotty’s VoyaGE .

THE SANDMAN

THE THREE WISHES .

THE FasHIONABLE FuR

THe TwerrtH Nicur Farry
HIDE-AND-SEEK

THe BuNCH OF VIOLETS.
Jack Frost

Tue GRATEFUL Fairy

Tue CoLtourED ScEentT-BotTtLe .

CONTENTED CHARLIE

THe FIGHTING FLOWERS
Tue Happy Liry

Dopo’s KITTEN

THE QUEEN’S JEWELS

THe Pen Fairy .

Tue Love Matcu

Tue Lirrte Losr Dot .
Tue Woop FairiEes

Tue Farry AND THE Mouse
NELL’s SECRET

Tue LitTLE Green Man .
Tue Rupsper Farry

Tue Lirtte Dancine GIRL
A Worpy War .

PrINcESS FORGET-ME-NOT
Tue Fink Ecc .

Tue CuristmMas-TREE PuncH

sob at ho

Lady Gwendolen Cecil
L. L. Weedon .
Sheila

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. L. Weedon
Nesbit .

. Dyke

L. Weedon

. Nesbit .
Olive Molesworth
L. L. Weedon
Louisa Molesworth
. Nesbit .

. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. A. Hoyer
L. Weedon

. Nesbit .

L. Weedon
Dyke

Nesbit .

L. Weedon

. Haskell :
. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

L. Weedon

bP b ty bh be oo ty

a

PAGE

10
12
t4
16
19
aye
23
25
28
30
32
34
39
41
43
45
47
48
50
53
54
Yi

59
60

62
66
68

70
CONTENTS.

THE Snow WitcH
Tue LitrLe CHInGooxs
Our Buiack Cat.

THe Stucx-up Rappitr
ApriIL SHOWERS .

Tue Story or Tommy
Tue Mirror or TRUTH
THe New Suip .
CASTLES IN THE AIR .
Wuat CoMES OF QUARRELLING
Tue Rat Princess

Tue Lirrte Boy Nexr Door .

Basy’s BirTHpay PRESENT
GREEDY TODDLES

THe WINGED FLoweER
THE GRATEFUL PEDLAR
Doinc NOTHING .

Our Cat’s Tae

THE UNINVITED GUEST
Tue Litrte Ink-Drop
THe Two Pets .

Tue Proup Gitt Butron

Retold by

Louisa Molesworth
M. A. Hoyer
E. Neshit .

E. Nesbit .
L.L. Weedon .
Constance Milman
. Nesbit .

L. Weedon .
. L. Weedon .
. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

L. Weedon .
L. Weedon .
Dyke

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .

. Nesbit .
Emily Bennett .
L.L. Weedon .
L. L. Weedon .
L. L. Weedon

boty i yy yh ty



PAGE

115
118
“CPN FRODUCTION

moh HATS the use of twilight ?”
os AE grumbled impatient Jack,
e as he stood waiting for
the lamp to be brought in
order that he might finish reading his
story-book.

Blanchie, who always had such nice
we funny ideas, nodded her head wisely.
~~: “T know,’ she said; “it’s because
of the birdies. When the sun goes

away he leaves the door open for
a bit so that the little birds shouldn't
feel frightened before they go to sleep.”
Then the two elder children
wandered away to play cat’s-cradle
together, and little Dickie was left
all by himself, staring out of the
open drawing-room window across the
garden. “It’s very kind of the sun,” he
thought. And then he thought again:
“Tt’s the little birdies’ bed-time now: I wonder what they do at bed-
time.” And then he remembered the nest in the apple-tree against the
garden wall. It was built on a branch quite near the ground, so that
he could look into it without any big person to lift him up.



INTRODUCTION. 7

“T think I'll go and see the little birdies now,” said foolish little
Dickie to himself, and he trotted out of the house and off across the
grass, quite forgetting that he had his indoor shoes on and neither hat
nor.coat. He was becoming a big boy and would soon wear trousers,
but I am afraid he never thought of that kind of thing.

When Dickie came near to the nest there was the mother bird
sitting on the edge, chirping; but she flew away, and all the little birds
began to squeak when they saw him.

“Why, what are you crying for, little birds?” said Dickie, standing
on tip-toe and peeping into the nest. “Go to sleep quickly ; the sun
hasn't shut the door yet.”

“They're crying because you've interrupted the story, of course,”
exclaimed a pink-and-white fairy who was sitting cross-legged behind
an apple-blossom; “and such a nice story too—one of the best she
has ever told.”

The little boy turned and looked at the fairy with round, wide-
opened eyes. “Why, I’ve never seen you before!” he said.

“That’s because you've never properly tried to,” said the apple-
blossom fairy; “I’m always here.”

“But I’ve often tried to see fairies,” said Dick gravely.

“An! but your eyes haven't,” said the fairy; “eyescan’t really try
to see anything in the daytime—the sun shines too brightly; in the
twilight they have to try, and then they see fairies—sometimes. But
now you must-be quiet, because the big bird is coming back to finish
her story.”

“Does she often tell stories?” asked the little boy.

“Yes, every evening at the birds’ bed-time,” answered the fairy.
“Hush! here she comes.”

Dickie stood as quiet as he could, for there was nothing in the
world he loved like a story. Back flew the big bird, and, perching
herself on the nest, began chirping quite loudly again, while the little
birds remained as quiet as Dickie himself: But after a minute, Dickie
8 TWILIGHT TALES.

turned to the fairy, with tears in his eyes. “Why, she’s not telling a
story at all,’ he said; ‘she’s only saying chirp, chirp, chirp.”

“Hush!” said the fairy crossly; “can’t you understand bird lan-
guage? Do be quiet, for she’s just got to the most exciting bit.”

The little boy pressed his lips tightty together, and winked his
eyes hard; but the tears would come, and when he saw his mother
walking towards him over the grass, he ran to meet her, breaking into
sobs as he went. You see, he was so dreadfully disappointed at not
being able to understand the bird’s story.

“Bed-time, Dickie,’ cried his mother; “you naughty little boy, to
be out here at this hour. Why, what’s the matter?” she added, as
she picked him up in her arms and he buried his face on her shoulder.

Dickie told his mother all about ic, and after she had kissed and
comforted him, she had a grand idea.

“See here,” she said, “I’ll ask that little bird who often whispers
things to me, to tell me the bird’s story, and then I'll tell it to you
to-morrow evening when you go to bed.”

“That will be nice,’ said Dickie, clapping his hands; ‘and the
to-morrow after that, and all the bed-times, mummie?”

“That depends,” said his mother, laughing, “on how many stories
the little bird whispers to me.”

The bird whispered a good many to her, and after she had told
them to Dickie she wrote them down, and here they all are in this
book. And every night when she had finished telling her story, Dickie
would look out of the window and see that it was quite dark. Then
he would nestle his head down upon his pillow, and say softly: “Good-
night, birdies; the sun’s shut the door tight now, and Dickie’s tired.”

Seay


ght Lale.

v

wile

UE:
Dolly's evoyage .

T'S a dreadful thing to be a doll, children are so inconsiderate.
I myself have lost an arm and a leg through their rough hand-
ling, and once I trembled for the safety of my head. Master
Johnny wanted to play at Mary Queen of Scots being executed,

I was quite relieved when Dolly said that Mary Queen of
Scots had been very beautiful and that I could never be made
to look like her; it was not flattering, perhaps, but it was safe.

They gave up that idea and then Johnny said they
would go out and fly his parachute. I thought that now I

should be left in peace for a short time, but no! Johnny caught me



up, tied a string round my waist and fastened me to the end of the
parachute, and then those two cruel children climbed up to the top
of the garden wall and dropped me over.

It is not altogether unpleasant to sail through the air with a
parachute, but the bump when you reach the ground is terrible. I
think I must have fainted away, for I remember nothing more until
I found myself lying on a bed of violets with a tiny little creature
sitting beside me who asked me how I felt. The string which bound
me to the parachute had broken and I was free again, but I felt very
stiff and uncomfortable.

However, I managed to reply politely to the little elf’s question,
and having explained how I came to be lying there, on the wrong
side of the garden wall, I added that I trusted I should never have
to go back again. “What!” cried the elf, “you would really be con-
tented to remain here always?” I answered that I should, and he
then ran off and consulted with a group of elves who had been.
watching us from a distance.
DOLLY'S VOYAGE. Il

When he returned he told me that he and his companions had
long been wanting a queen, and seeing that I was so much larger and
handsomer than they, they had decided to offer me the crown.

Of course, I was obliged to hesitate for a short time—it isn’t good
manners to appear too eager about anything—but I meant to accept
in the end, and was just preparing a nice little speech, when I was
grabbed—yes, grabbed by a dirty little hand and thrown over the wall,
where Dolly caught me. Of course, it was Johnny—that boy always
was the bane of my life, and it was like him to spoil all my prospects.

However, Dolly was so glad to have me back again that I was
a little comforted, though I have never quite got over the shock of
my voyage over the garden wall. L. L, Weedon.



Bry, 1, &
ee DP 'Y Po
Cre DANDMAN.
xv wy
Wy





jit you get out of my way, lumbering elf?

This is the third night I have tumbled over you.”

“Softly, good Father Sandman, softly! If
: you were not so blind you would have seen
SS me. Have you put-all your children to bed, old Father
er $ Sandman?”

“wd “Go along for a teasing, impertinent imp!”
Pipistrello laughed shrilly as he swung himself to
and fro on the branch of a low shrub, chanting—

“Clcse, little eyelids, close up tight, for the Sand-
man’s come to town!”

The old fellow had gone into his cave; it was nearly dark now.
Boum! An old brown shoe came flying out, and, catching the elf as
he swung, toppled him neatly on to the grass beneath. He was not
hurt, for the Sandman goes very softly shod, that the children may
not hear him. But he was extremely angry. . “Very good!” he cried,
shaking his morsel of a fist; “to-day you, Father Sandman, and
to-morrow me! Mark my w eae you will be sorry for it before the
moon is many nights older.”

A chuckle was heard coming from the cave, and that was all.
Pip went off, meditating revenge. In the middle of supper he snapped
his fingers gleefully. “The very thing,” he cried; and he began to
hum: “Close, little eyelids, close up tight, for the Sandman’s come
to town!”




: ww, ola

Old Father Sandman was hunting about his cave in a fine state
of mind. “Ach! where is my bag of sand? Where can it have gone?
It is the children’s bedtime; the Nurses and the Mammas will be
THE SANDMAN. 13

wondering where I am! My sand-bag, my precious sand-bag—oh, if
I could but find it!” The poor old gentleman trotted to and fro, and
seemed nearly distracted.

“YT wish I could help you,” said a bat, who generally shared his
cave; “I have been asleep all day, you know, and have seen no one.”

“If you will let me ride on your back,” cried the old fellow
eagerly, “I might catch my brother Sandman, who lives the other side
of the wood, before he goes out. He would lend me some sand,
perhaps.”

“Come along then,” said the bat.

But the second Sandman declined to help. Poor Father Sandman
got back to his cave, and there was Pip swinging on the same branch
as before, and looking very malicious. “I believe,’ gasped the old
gentleman, “that it is you that stole my sack!”

Pip laughed, and skipped out of reach, crying: “My turn to-day,
Father Sandman.”

But although mischievous, he was not a bad-hearted sprite, and
presently he went and fetched the sand-bag. Then he made a bargain.
“Tather Sandman, will you say you are sorry ?”

“Pipistrello, I will say I am sorry,” was the reply.

“And you won't bear malice?”

“T will not bear malice—give me my bag.”

“One thing more. Will you let all the children sit up half an
hour longer in winter, and an hour in summer?”

“Tt can’t be done—well, perhaps, if I must—yes, then; but the
babies must go to bed a quarter of an hour earlier all the year round.”

“Please yourself about the babies,’ said Pip. “Catch, Father
Sandman !”

The next minute the old fellow, with his sack on his back, and
a smile on his face, was trotting off to the town. Sheila.
Cones

Sons Cc,
“Gre .
pagename, :
af. HERE were once two little white rats
a who lived in a hutch with wide bars.
As They had plenty of soft hay to sleep
. in, and bread-and-milk at the proper
times. But they were dull, for they
never saw the world, and they had
nothing to talk of in the long winter
evenings. One winter day a Fairy
knocked at their door.

“T am cold and hungry,” she said,
“and Fairyland is a long way off; I
can never get there in this snowy



weather.”

“Come in,” said Mrs. Whiterat,
and the Fairy crept in through the bars. Mr. Whiterat gave the Fairy
some bread-and-milk, and Mrs. Whiterat sat close beside her in the
hay-—so that soon the Fairy felt quite warm and cheerful again. And
she lodged with the white rats all the winter, and they were all three
as happy as could be.

Then when spring came, and the daffydowndillies were waving
their yellow heads in the sun, the Fairy said: “I must go home now.
You have been very good to me. You may have three wishes.” And
she waved her little wand and flew away.

Now, the white rats had often longed to be free, to run about under
the haystacks, and bring up large lively families, like the brown farm
rats. So now they said—
diielid Ieligals, \WAisialas\ 15

“Oh! I wish we were out of the hutch!” And ina minute they
found themselves among the hayricks.

“Oh! how big and beautiful the world is,” they said.

_ And then a dreadful thing happened. A great brown rat jumped
out at them.

“Get along with you!” it- said. “We don’t want any toy-rats
here.” And it showed its sharp teeth and looked so fierce that: Mrs.
Whiterat trembled to the end of her grey tail, as she cried out—

“Oh! I wish-we were safe in the hutch!” And the same instant,
there they were at home again.

And the third wish? Well, they haven’t made up their minds about
that yet. It gives them something to talk about in the winter
evenings ! Z£. Nesbit.


id

Cone FASHIONABLE For.

Vy R. and Mrs. Stoat a
with their children

in a comfortable
\ home. They were

very well off—they always had
plenty to eat, and their fur
yw Coats always fitted beautifully and
were never shabby. Every day,
when Mrs. Stoat was busy with
the house work, she used to send
the children out for a walk, and one day, when the children were
walking in the wood, they saw two ladies coming down the path.
The little Stoats hid in a hole in the mossy root of a tree, and as
the ladies went by, one of them said: “I wonder what fur will be





worn next winter?”

“They say,” answered the other lady, “that nothing will be worn
except——”

But the little Stoats could not hear what fur it was that was to
be worn next winter. They did not like to think of other people
wearing fur, for fear their own fur coats should be taken from them.
“Oh! how cold we should be without our coats!” they said, shivering ;
but then the most sensible Stoat said: “It can’t matter to us what
big people wear! Our coats wouldn’t fit tem, you know.”

But the smallest Stoat of all felt quite anxious to know what
fur would be worn, because she was a vain little person, and felt it
would be very sad if Stoat-fur coats were not the fashion.

So when she went home to dinner she asked Mrs. Stoat the question.
THE FASHIONABLE FUR. 17

“Mother dear, you know everything. Do tell us what fur will be
worn next winter.”

“Why, Stoat-fur, of course,” the Mother answered, laughing ;
“ nless——” She stopped short and looked at Mr. Stoat, who nodded,
and then they both laughed, and everyone sat down to dinner. But
that silly smallest Stoat of all couldn’t sleep for thinking of that “unless.”
What could it mean but that perhaps some other fur would be worn?
And then unfashionable! It was a dreadful thought. Before morning
she had made up her mind to go out into the great world and find
out what fur was to be worn next winter. So she said nothing to
anybody, but she started off alone; and perhaps she would soon have
seen how silly she was and have come running back again, but, alas!
she was caught in.a trap, and the keeper who caught her would have
killed her, only his little daughter begged so hard that the keeper
agreed to spare the little creature’s life. So the smallest Stoat of all
was kept in a hutch.

And there she stayed for weeks and nee and when it grew
very cold the hutch was put in the stable, so that she was always
warm; but she longed to get home again.

“T don’t think I should care about not being in the fashion,” she
said sadly to herself, “if only I could go back to my dear Mammy
and the old home!”

Now, one day two ladies took refuge from a snowstorm in the
keeper's house, and as they passed the stable the smallest Stoat of all
heard one of them say: “You see, I was right. Nothing is being
worn but ermine /” .

And the little person in the hutch recognised the voices of the
two ladies she had seen in the wood. So now she had found out the
great secret! And it so happened that the very next day someone
left the door of her hutch open, and she slipped out very cautiously,
lifting up her little head and turning it from side to side, and sniffing
to make sure that there was no danger near.

B
18 TWILIGHT TALES.

Then she started to run across the snowy fields to her old home.
But as she ran she heard feet behind her—and ran faster and faster
—a little brown streak on the snow. And the feet came faster too.
They were a dog’s feet—and she heard the dog’s quick breathing close
behind her as she rushed into the old home, and knew she was safe.
As soon as she had got over her fright enough to look about her, she
received another shock; she was in the midst of a number of strangers
all dressed in creamy white fur dresses who were only hike her as to
their neat black tails.

“T’m sure I beg your pardon,” she said; “I thought this was the
house where my Father and Mother lived.”

“So it is,” cried the white furry people, laughing. “Don't you
know us?” And then she saw that these were really her own relations,
only their dresses were new.

“We are wearing ermine now,” said Mrs. Stoat proudly.

“Oh, Mother, can’t I have an ermine dress too?” cried the youngest
Stoat of all. “Nothing is being worn but ermine. I heard them
say so.”
“Something else is being worn by you, at any rate,” said Mrs. Stoat
sternly. “You've been living in some warm nasty place. If youd
stayed here in the cold like a good little Stoat, instead of running away
from home, you would have had an ermine dress like everyone else.”

“Don’t you know, silly child,” said Mr. Stoat, “that we always
get ermine coats in very cold winters? Then dogs can't see us so well
in the snow. It’s very cold still. If you try hard perhaps you can
get an ermine coat like the rest of us.”

But the smallest Stoat of all never got her ermine coat, for the
spring came quite soon, and there has not been a really hard winter

since.
E. Nesbit.
Gwerrtn a Nignt Sra AIRY.

HI =| AIRIES are all pretty, we know, but
rt the Twelfth Night Fairy was rate
lovely. She wore a white frock and
a wreath of pink roses. She had
no shoes or stockings, and stood on
the tip of one toe and waved the
other foot in the air. Teddy thought
she was lovely, and he felt hungry
when he looked at her, although he
had just eaten his supper of bread-and-
butter and milk. How he wished he
were grown up instead of being only
five years old, so that he had to be
sent to bed like a baby, instead of
sitting up for Mother’s party !
“T could eat her every bit; she’s
only sugar,” said Teddy regretfully.



“Never mind, old man,’ said Mother; “you shall have a nice
slice of the cake to-morrow.” So Teddy sighed deeply, mounted the
nursery stairs, and was soon far away in Dreamland.

But the Fairy went to Dreamland too. Teddy met her as soon as
he crossed the threshold, and she told him-she had been running after
him ever since he left the supper-room. ;

~“T wanted to tell you that I’m wot sugar,’ she said. “I’m a real
live Fairy. And, oh! please, please don’t eat me! I heard your Mother
say that she would give me to you, because you had been a good boy
and went to bed without making a fuss.”
20 TWILIGHT TALES.

There were tears in the Fairy’s eyes, and she looked so piteously
at Teddy that he felt inclined to cry too.

“J won't eat you, dear little thing!” he said, kissing her. “If
_Mother gives you to me, I'll keep you for ever and ever. But, oh
dear! suppose someone else should eat you before morning ?”

This was a dreadful idea, and the Fairy began to sob outright, so
tender-hearted little Ted thought he would go at once and make his
Mother promise that she would not let anyone touch the poor little
pink-and-white Fairy.

It was not very far from Dreamland to the dining-room, and the
little boy soon stood by his Mother's side, with the bright light from
the waxen candles shining upon his golden curls and lighting up his
pretty blue eyes. The room was quite full of people, but Teddy, who
was a shy boy generally, didn’t mind a bit. “Oh! Mother dear,”
he cried earnestly, “Aromise that no one shall eat the little Fairy.”

Mother picked him up and kissed him, and then someone put
the Fairy—who had followed him downstairs—into his hand, and in a
moment he was fast asleep. |

When he awoke in the morning the first thing he saw was his
little friend, smiling at him from the top of the Nursery chest-of-
drawers.

Teddy was so glad she was safe and sound, and he wouldn't have
eaten her for the world now, because, although she looked so sweet,
he knew she was not made of sugar.

He grew very fond of her and carried on long one-sided conver-
sations with her. She never answered him during the day, but at night
she met him very often in Dreamland, and danced with him, and sang
him the sweetest, quaintest songs, and Teddy says, when he’s a grown
man, he’s going to marry the pink-and-white Fairy.
: L. L. Weedon.
Ai we 7X IN) DCMS

EL IDE-AND-SEEK is a jolly game when you play it out of

doors and there are a good many of you; but when you

have to play it indoors and there are only two of you,

WZ |_ YA you have to make the dolls play too. Molly and I used

to each be captain of a side; she had nine dolls and I had only seven;
~so our side had much more looking to do than hers.

One very snowy day, when we couldn’t play in the garden, we
had tried all the games we could think of, and Molly: was getting
crosser and crosser because she could not draw Selina properly, when
I said: “Let’s play hide-and-seek.” Molly said: “All right, only I
don’t know where half my dolls are. You must lend me some of
yours. I'll have the talking one and the one that shuts its eyes.”

I didn’t like this very much, but I gave in. “And our side will
hide first,” said Molly. .I didn’t like that either, but I gave in again.

I said good-bye to my dear Rosalie and Selina, and handed them
over to Molly; then I turned my pinafore over my head and waited
while she hid them.

“Cuckoo! cuckoo!” cried Molly, as a signal that all were hidden.

I soon found Molly; she was behind the window curtain, and
made it stick out, of course; and I soon found her dolls and my Selina.
Molly had hidden her in the coal-scuttle, and though she had wrapped
her in a piece of paper, I didn't think jit was quite nice of her; but I
couldn't find Rosalie, the squeaking doll, anywhere. I looked in Nurse’s
work-basket, I looked in the doll’s house, I looked everywhere you
could think of—no Rosalie! Just then Molly had to go and have her
dress “tried or.”
22) TWILIGHT TALES.

Hide-and-seek is no fun by yourself, but I couldn't bear to think
of Rosalie being hidden somewhere all alone, so I went on looking.
It was beginning to get dark, and Nurse had gone down to her tea,
and I felt very miserable and forsaken, when suddenly in the quiet
Nursery I heard Rosalie’s well-known squeak. The dear doll, she was
calling to me! The sound came from the chest-of-drawers. I looked
on it, and under it, and behind it. The drawers themselves we were
forbidden to open, but I was certain the squeak had come from one
of these drawers; so I pulled out Nurse’s work-drawer, and there, lying
on the cut-out flannel petticoats, was my precious Rosalie, and she
had squeaked to call me to her. What I had so often wished had
come true, no doubt. Rosalie had come alive; she had squeaked by _
herself. If she could squeak she could talk, and what interesting talks
we should have! .

I told Nurse all about it when she came up from her tea.

“Bless you, my lambie,” she said; ‘“dollies don’t squeak without
something to make them.”

She went to the work-drawer and pulled it open. Lying curled
up at the back was pussy.

“Tt was the cat you heard,’ said Nurse; “or perhaps pussy sat
on the doll’s squeak.”

It was a dreadful blow, but after all, I don’t think I quite
believed that pussy had anything to do with it; and for a long time
I used to take Rosalie into quiet corners whilst Molly was busy
making her dolls new dresses, and beg her to squeak just a little for
me, so that no one else should hear; but she never did, so that
perhaps Nurse was right after all. E. Nesbit.
a

— :
Gne JD unen OF Movers.

J

ay

i noo ne
ho * me NCE upon a time there was a little girl named Nettie,
Le who lived with an Aunt and cousin. She was very
1-4 unhappy, for her naughty cousin used to tell falsehoods
oS

eae about her, which the Aunt believed. Poor Nettie was
Dee y constantly being punished for faults which she had not
Hi committed, but she was so patient and obedient that her

Aunt’s heart was touched at last. “Nettie does everything that I tell
her,’ said the woman to her daughter; “I do not think that she can
be such a very bad girl, after all.”

“T know of something she could not do,’ said Nettie’s porch
cousin; “only let me try her!”

“Well, just this once you may,’ sented the girl’s Mother; “but if
she does not fail, I shall not allow you to tease or worry her again.”

Then they called Nettie, and told her that she must go into the
wood and gather a bunch of violets. In spring-time, this would have
been an easy task, but it was now mid-winter. Poor Nettie, in a
miserably thin frock, wandered forth, shivering and crying. She knew
that she should find no violets in such weather, yet she dared not
return without them. What was she to do?

Presently she saw in the distance a bright gleam as of flame.
“What can that be?” said Nettie to herself; “1 will go and see.” So
she went in the direction of the light, and came soon to a fire, around
which were twelve men, each seated upon a big stone. The oldest
of these men—a very old fellow indeed, whose white beard swept the
ground—spoke kindly to the little girl, asking her who she was and
what she wanted. Nettie told her sad story. All the men felt very
sorry for her, and the oldest one said: “My name is January. You
24 ‘ PWLEIG HIS TAL ES:

cannot find violets in my month. Yet I think I can find a way to
help you.” Then he turned to one of his brothers, and said to
him: “Suppose you change places with me, Brother March?”

Brother March jumped up at once, and changed places with his
eldest brother. As soon as he had done this, a wonderful change took
place in everything. The snow vanished, the sun shone, the air grew
softer, the trees began to bud. Nettie forgot her troubles as she
watched with much interest some birds building a nest. A bird
alighted on the grass at her feet, and close to the spot was a bed of
the loveliest violets she had ever seen.

She thanked the kind brothers over and over again, and, after
gathering a large bunch of the sweet-scented flowers, returned to her
Aunt’s house. The violets must surely have been magic flowers;
or maybe it was only Nettie’s patience and gentleness that worked
the charm. However the change was brought about, it is certain that
from that day Nettie was well and kindly treated by her Aunt, and
even her cousin ceased to torment her. E. Dyke.


Jack Frost.

y| ACK FROST sat perched upon

TS the snow-laden branch of an oid

fa {Nl e Z UG ih elm-tree, chuckling with delight

9 ‘« hy ee over his own handiwork.

Jes YY He and the Snow Queen
Via >) \ (J had been hard at work all night,
ith nae aS Lv Mh covering the earth with fleecy
ne a , white feathers and sparkling

wel i ee | diamonds, and very pretty it
RS all looked.

“Ah! there is no time like
the winter,” said Jack.

“T’m sorry I can’t agree with you!” replied a half-starved Robin
crossly. “It’s all very well for you, who live upon nothing but ice,
but what are we poor birds to do? There isn’t a berry left upon a
hedge, nor an insect to be found anywhere.”

“But doesn’t the little girl up at the big house feed you?” asked
Jack sympathetically.

“Sometimes,” said Robin; “but it is Christmas Day to-day and
she is so busy looking at her presents that she has forgotten all about
us, though we sat on the window-sill and chirped for ever such a
time. Oh! dear, I wish the snow and ice were all gone.”

Poor Jack Frost felt quite disheartened as he listened to Robin.
He had thought to please everyone, and now, here were all the little
birds starving, and it seemed that it was all his fault.


26 TWILIGHT TALES.

He slipped down from his perch and running to the house, climbed
to the window-sill and looked in.

There sat the little girl teaching one of her new dolls to read.
She had a birch-rod in her hand and was looking very severe, for
the new dolly was a terrible dunce.

“Oh! if ondy I could tell her,” he thought.

Just at that moment the little girl’s brother opened the window ;
he wanted to see how the garden looked after the heavy fall of snow.

Jack slipped into the room, crept up to the little girl’s ear and
whispered— ,

“Don't forget the birds) They have had no breakfast, poor little
things, and they w ill have no Christmas dinner either unless you
remember them.”

“Qh! dear, how cold it is!” said Mother, shivering. «Shut the
window, Georgie, or you'll let Jack Frost in.”

It was all Jack could do to get out of the window before it was
shut, but as he went he chuckled to himself, for he saw the little
girl throw down the birch-rod and heard her say—

“J. had almost forgotten the poor birdies, Mother!”

She took a handful of bread and, opening the glass door into the
garden, threw it out to the birds, who had a fine breakfast and then
flew away to thank Jack Frost.

The little girl never forgot her feathered friends again, so that
although the winter lasted a long, long time, Robin never had cause
to quarrel again with the good little man who makes the w orld so

beautiful for us in the merry winter-time.
L. L. Weedon.


asl.

5 ‘Lreakf

HNobin.

e

The




q -

HERE was once a Fairy
who lived in a big library.
It was rather a dull place
we to live in, but the Fairy

liked quiet. One day the room

suddenly grew noisy, and the Fairy
peeped out from behind the poetry-
book where she lived, and saw two
children playing. They were building

a house with the big books, a solid

calf-skin house, with a vellum roof.

“This would be a nice house for

~ me,’ said the Fairy, “rather large

perhaps, but I like plenty of room.

That poetry-book was too thin!” So

she crept under the roof, which was

made of a volume of Rollin’s Ancient

History. Her new house was rather

musty, but it was large and comfortable. .

She was just settling down when a prim

little girl leading a fat dog came into the room and scolded her little

brother and sister, shut up the Ancient History, put it back on the
shelf, and the Fairy was shut up in it.
She had to make herself very small, I can tell you, so as to be
TE GRAPE ROI, ATR: 29

comfortable between the pages. But she did it, and then went to
sleep. “I shall wake when they open the book again,” she said, and
so she did. But the book was not opened again for years and years
and years. And at last it was opened by a learned Professor, and he
read in it through his spectacles, but he didn’t see the Fairy.

“Why,” she said, “you're the little boy who once built a house
with the books.”

“Am 1?” said the Professor, with a sigh.

“Why, don’t you remember?” said the Fairy, and she flew on to
his shoulder and began whispering in his ear. But he thought it was
his own thoughts. And he remembered old times, and how he had
played and enjoyed himself when he was a child; but now he had
grown learned, and had been to Oxford, and had been made a Pro-
fessor, he had forgotten how to play. “Heigho!” he said, “learning
isn't everything. I wish I were young again.”

“T can do that for you,” said the Fairy. “How old are you?”

“I’m not thirty yet,” he said.

“Then I'll make him young,” she said to herself, “in return for
“his letting me out of that dreadful book. Look out of the window,”
she said to him. And again it seemed to him that it was his own
thoughts he heard. And through the window he saw the little girl
he used to play with, only now she was grown a fair lady, and
suddenly he grew young again, and went out to her. And she met
him with a smile, and they went out into the fields and picked
buttercups and daisies, and came back and had strawberries and cream
for tea.

“It’s good to be young again, my love,” said the Professor.

_And the Fairy kept. him young to the end of his days.
&. Nesbit.


REDDY,” said Mamma, for the third time, “I have
told you before no¢ to touch that scent-bottle.”
Freddy was standing at his Mother's toilet-table,
looking at the pretty things that were laid out on it.
One of these was a funnily shaped scent-bottle in



coloured glass.

“Why, Mamma?” he said crossly. “I wouldn’t break it. I want
to see it near.”

Mamma was getting ready to go out. She was in a great hurry,
or perhaps she would have told Freddy her reason for not wanting
him to touch the scent-bottle ; the stopper was loose and she was
alraid of the scent all pouring out. But as Freddy spoke someone
called her, and she left the room, saying—

“Just do what I tell you, dear—leave it alone.”

A ray of sunlight came streaming over the table at that moment.
It lit up the scent-bottle till it seemed all the colours of the rainbow—
pink, green, yellow, blue. Freddy thought he had never seen anything
so lovely. Forgetting Mamma’s words, he stretched out his hand and
lifted it up, and carried it to the window to sce it better.

e
THE COLOURED SCENT-BOTILE. 31

Then—he did not know how, for he was certainly holding it
carefully—the funny little stopper, shaped like a fish’s head, dropped
on to the floor, and out poured a stream of scent over the carpet.

Freddy was very frightened. Half the scent was spilled, though
happily nothing was broken. But Mamma would see that he had
disobeyed her. What could he do?

“T know,” he said to himself. “I'll pour some water into the
bottle and Mamma will then not see that any scent is gone.”

Deep down in his heart he felt dreadfully ashamed of himself; but
still, he carefully filled up the half-empty scent-bottle with some water
from a little jug which stood near.

Oh, dear! What was this? When Freddy had poured in the water
and put the scent-bottle back in its place, he saw that instead of
sparkling as before, the scent had grown thick and white—it looked
something like milk. Freddy’s face grew redder and redder as he
looked at it. What could have happened? Was the scent-bottle a
fairy one? And what would Mamma say now? She would know that
her little boy had not only disobeyed her, but had tried to deceive her
too! Freddy burst into tears and flung himself on to the floor.

“Freddy, Freddy, what’s the matter?” said a voice behind him.
It was Mamma, who had come back for something she had forgotten.

Freddy sprang to his feet and told her all. She was very kind,
though she looked unhappy when he gaid how he had meant to hide
from her how disobedient he had been.

“T knew it was like telling a story, Mummy,” he sobbed. “But
oh! I am glad now that the water turned the scent white and made
me tell you all. It would have been dreadful for you not to know!
But, Mamma,” he went on, looking up into his Mother’s face, “I think
I would have told you when you came to kiss me in bed, I think.”

“Yes, darling,” said his Mother; “I am quite sure you would !”

Olive Molesworth.
LONTENTED COHORLIE.




| O one bothered about Charlie; he was so happy and

\ ; contented that the other children half thought he

Yh... really preferred odds and ends and broken toys to

4 ae whole ones. He toddled through life with a smile

Ong on his face and a happy heart, made a gee-gee of
the old bench in the back-yard, and never once
envied Tommy his fine new Dobbin.

It was not only in the matter of toys that Charlie failed to receive
his just share. When black Biddy had a brood of seven chicks, and
each of the children claimed one as a special pet, it was the lame one
that was called Charlie’s. One day, Mother found her little lad sitting
by himself on the doorstep, with Hopperty, as the lame chick was
called, huddled up in his pinafore. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie boy?”
said she, for she noticed that the little cheeks were very white and
the pretty blue eyes heavy.

“My head’s so funny, Mother!” said Charlie.

The next day there were six children playing in the field behind
the house, and one little boy lay tossing on his bed upstairs.

Now, you would have thought that amongst so many children one
would scarcely have been missed, but Charlie was. The children felt
as though they could not play, now that he was not with them, though.
when he had been well and strong they had often left him out of
their games. After a while they sat down quietly together and began
to talk of Charlie. Then it was that they remembered what a sweet,
unselfish little fellow he had been.

“We gave him the lame chicken!” said Dora regretfully.

“T never once offered him a ride on Dobbin,” sighed Tommy.
CONTENTED CHARLIE, 33

“T don’t think any of us were very kind to him,” said Alice. “He
was so contented that we thought anything would do for him.’

The week that Charlie was ill was the most miserable the children
had ever spent, and when at the end of that time the Doctor said
the worst was over and Charlie began to mend, there was nothing his
brothers and sisters would not have given him, they were so thankful.
The chickens were secretly carried up to Charlie’s bedside, but Mother
said she could not have the sick-room turned into a poultry-yard.





“But we gave him the lame chicken,” the children pleaded; “and
oh! Mother, we are so sorry!”

“Well,” said Mother, “he loves Hopperty -best now; but, my
darlings, Charlie will be down amongst you all soon, I hope, and then
you must remember to try and be as unselfish to .him as he has
always been to you.” The children did not forget Mother's words, and
as for Charlie, he is the happiest little boy in the world, and the other
children are all the happier too, I know, for having learnt to be a little
more like their unselfish little brother. L. L. Weedon.
= eee ae
Gre Pignti INE Lowe IS:

z
ea
aka
Fe ea oa pe
peo
ee
NDP eZ ee HAT are you staring at, Hodgie?” said Mother
LAr 3a “A\ |
Aa enV a i one afternoon when she came up to the Nursery.
, a \2 Ye - Hodgie was standing at the window, his fat
oe oe brown hands clasped behind him, his holland
bie

AK blouse looking rather bunchy and untidy, instead
of smoothly hanging down straight and neat
below his eae leather belt. And even when he heard his Mother's
voice he scarcely turned round—only just enough not to seem rude,
while he murmured or muttered something about the wind and the
flowers. But that tiny glarice over his shoulder was enough to show
two things—that his eyes were red and his face very solemn. Nurse
gave Mother a look which meant: “There’s been some stormy weather
up here, ma’am.”
And Mother soon saw two other sights. Blanche was sitting in
a dark corner pretending to be very busy undressing her doll, and
Nora was not pretending anything at all, but letting the tears run
down her cheeks, while little sobs shook her every now and then,
and there was a great big hole torn in her pretty frilled muslin apron,
just at the very front, where it showed.
Sometimes it’s best not to seem to notice things, but it was no
good pretending not to see Nora’s right-out crying.
Mother sat down not far from Hodgie and called Nora to her.
“What's the matter, Nora?” she said. “Is it the tear in your
pinafore you're in trouble about? It ¢s a pity. How did it happen?”
At this the little girl burst out into a loud wail. Mother told

-
THE FIGHTING FLOWERS. 35

her she must not make such a noise but speak quietly, and then
‘well see what can be done.” So after a bit Nora told her story.
It was partly her apron she was crying about, “’cos Nurse said it
were kite a new one,” and partly a lot of other grievances.

“It begunned,” said Nora, “wif Hodgie wanting a doll to be the
queen in his percession. And Blanchie wouldn't give hers, and she
said I must give mine. And I wouldn't, ’cos Hodgie called her names.”

“Whom?” asked Mother. “Blanchie?”

“No; my dolly. He said she was a snub-nose, and he pulled
her nose and nearly brokened it, and he wouldn’t have her for his
queen, and I catched him, and Blanchie took her dolly out of Hodgie’s
arms, and we all foughtened. And Hodgie gave Blanchie a bad slap,
and her said he was a cow—not brave, you know—and that made
him so angry that he cried, and then my apron got tored, and dolly
was all scrumpled up, and I cried, and it was all drefful. Slapping and
pushing ‘like bad little tigers and lions,” Nora said. And this was
too much for Nora; she melted into another flood of tears.

Mother took her up on her knee. “Come, dear, it’s no good
crying any more. I feel sure Hodgie and Blanchie are sorry too.
Suppose you all three have a good making-up, and kiss each other.
It's no use saying who was worst; put all the wrong into a bag of
forgetfulness together and shake it up, and then open the bag and
take out some nice forgivings and kisses; that’s far the best plan.”

The children couldn't help smiling at Mother's way of putting
things. But they took her advice. Blanchie came out of her corner
and whispered: “I’m very sorry;” and Hodgie turned round and said:
“So am I,” and then the kisses finished it all off comfortably.

But still the little boy turned towards the window, as if something
he saw there was very interesting.

“What is it you keep looking at so?” asked his Mother.

“Tt’s the f’owers,” said Hodgie—he was only five. ‘They does so
seem. as if they was fighting—like—like us,” he added, in a very low voice.
36 TWILIGHT TALES.

Mother looked out too. It was a windy day, and just on that
side of the house the garden was much exposed. The plants and
flowers were certainly flinging themselves about, and rapping and
thumping each other rather wildly. She could not help smiling a little
at Hodgie’s fancy.

“T hope the poor flowers didn’t hear what was going on up here
just now,” she said gravely. “It would be such a bad example.”

Hodgie looked very solemn. Mother was in fun, of course, but I
don’t think he quite understood that.

Not very long after, she went downstairs, having kissed the

”

children for good-night, for it was near their bed-time.

Hodgie was very quiet while he was being undressed; the last
thing that he did before leaving the Nursery was to look out of the
window. Yes, the hitting and slapping and shaking were still going
on, for the wind was rising.

“T’m afraid they did hear,’ thought Hodgie, as he fell asleep.

What was that sound? He heard it faintly, then more loudly—
then, at last, it seemed to wake him quite up. It was a sound of
crying and weeping, and amidst it he heard his own name.

“Hodgie, Hodgie, do come down to us. We're so unhappy and so
sore and spoilt, and some of us are torn in pieces, and it’s all your fault.”

Up jumped Hodgie, rubbing his eyes. Who was speaking to him?
Was it Blanchie or Nora? No—he peeped into their room they were
both quietly asleep—he could see them by the moonlight, which was
very bright. But again he heard that sad cry: “Hodgie, do come!”

It came from the garden, and without waiting to dress himself
down he trotted. He did not feel cold, and oddly enough the door
was open, so he got out quite easily. But once in the garden, oh,
what a sight! The flower-beds were a mass of ruins—the tall lilies
lying on the ground, all their beauty gone, the roses crushed and
broken, the sunflowers’ faces hidden in the soil, while from all sides
came the woeful cry: “Oh, Hodgie, Hodgie, it was your bad example.”
THE FIGHTING FLOWERS. 37

What a night he had! lifting up one, wiping the soiled petals of
others, tying and binding and straightening all that he could. Dear,
dear! never did gardener work harder than Hodgie in the moonlight,



till at iast things began to improve a little and the garden to look
less desolate.
“Thank you,” whispered the bruised and repentant flowers; “we'll
38 TWILIGHT TALES.

go to sleep now till the morning and we'll never fight again, Hodgie,”
and with a sigh the little gardener went back to bed.

It was quite morning when he awoke. The sun was shining and
the wind had ceased. From the bedroom window Hodgie could see
nothing of the garden, but he begged Nurse to dress him quickly that
he might have a little run before breakfast, and he pattered off
downstairs as fast as he could.

When he got to the garden he rubbed his eyes with astonishment.
It didn’t look so very different from usual. Some of the flowers were
straggling and blown about, some few bruised and broken, but several
lifted up their faces with sweet joy to wish him and the sunshine
good morning. And on one rose which he stooped to smell there
was a drop of dew like a tear. “Perhaps her's been sorry and is going
to be good now,” thought Hodgie.

But still, where were all the sticks and tyings-up? He remembered
fetching them from the tool-house so well. He felt very much
puzzled. Suddenly he saw someone coming—someone who liked a
little fresh air before breakfast, too. -It was Mother. Hodgie ran to
her and told her all that had happened.

“My darling,” she said, as she kissed him, “it was a dream.
Perhaps it was rather foolish of me to make that little joke about
your setting the flowers a bad example; but still I hope neither they
nor the birds nor anyone will ever hear quarrelling or fighting or
anything but happy sounds through the Nursery window again.”

“We're going to be werry good children,” said Hodgie ; “you'll see,
Mother.” And he trotted in to tell the wonderful story of his dream
to Blanchie and Nora and Nurse. But, as he passed the flower-beds, he
shook his head: he was not quite sure but that Mother was mistaken.
“They have been fighting some,’ he said to himself.

Louisa Molesworth.


‘

ax HERE was once a beautiful white Lily who lived in a

a
| | green garden, and had all the happiness of sun and dew
f that can come into a flower’s life. Only one thing
it saddened her; now and then the gardener would come
7”

and gather some of her sisters: he took them away, and
she never saw them again. One dreadful day the gardener came with
a sharp knife and cut the Lily’s stalk and carried her away in his hand.
As she went she shed bitter tears, and the gardener said: “What a
lot of dew there is in this Lily!”

When she was brought to the house she was placed in a tall green
vase and set by the bedside of a little sick child. When the child saw
her beauty his tired eyes lighted up with pleasure, and he cried:
“Oh, the dear Lily! Mother, when can I go out to see the other lilies
growing?” And from that moment he began to get better.

“Tt was the Lily did it,” said his Mother, with tears of happiness.
“He was so tired that if the Lily had not come to cheer him, he
might have gone to sleep and never wakened here again.”

The Lily tried hard not to fade. She held herself up bravely, and
day by day the sick child looked at the Lily and grew stronger and
49 TWILIGHT TALES.

stronger. And at last a day came when he was well enough to be
taken into the garden to see the lilies growing, and when he was
gone the Lily drooped and drooped, for she felt that the end of her
pretty green and white life was near. But though she was sad, she
was not sorry, for she felt that she had done some good with her
life. And as she drooped there a white butterfly came fluttering in.
“Oh, happy Lily!” he cried. And she looked sadly at him. “I am not
sorry—only sad,” she said.

“Sad,” he said; “do not you know what happens to all flowers
who are able to help and comfort any little child? When they die,
they turn into fairies and can fly for ever through all the green
gardens of the world. The other flowers will only be flowers next year,
but you will be a fairy.”

And as he spoke the Lily died and became a fairy, and she and
the butterfly spread their white wings and flew out into the sunshine
together. EL. Nesbit.

(26


ae s
SB) ODO’s Furr GeNG

”OU mustn’t go into the morning-room, Dodo—don’t



forget, will you?”

“No, Mother,” Dodo answered, but she didn’t
seem very pleased. It happened that she was a very
curious little girl, and always liked to know what was
going on, and she was quite certain that something inter-
esting was taking place now.

Mary and Eric had just come out of the morning-room, whisper-
ing together, and if Eric, who was younger than Dodo, might go in,
she thought it was very unkind of Mother not to let her.

Dodo was so cross that she sulked nearly all the afternoon, and
was so tiresome when nurse was dressing her to go down to the
drawing-room, that the other children were ready long before she was.

But at last she trotted downstairs, with Spot at her heels—Spot
always waited for Dodo—and as the two of them passed the morning-
room door, they both stopped.

Strange to say, Spot was quite as curious as Dodo. He sniffed
at the door, and whined, and wagged his short stumpy tail violently
to and fro. The little girl’s hand was on the handle of the door.
Should she turn it? Surely one little peep cou/dn't matter ?

It always seemed to Dodo that the handle turned of its own
accord. J don’t think it could have done so, but at any rate the door
opened a little way, and out dashed a fluffy white kitten. In an
instant Spot was after it, and chased it down the hall and out into
the garden.

Dodo didn’t know what to do; she couldn't very well run after
Spot, because just at that moment Mary called her.
42 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Be quick, Dodo; Mother wants you,” she said. So Dodo went
into the drawing-room feeling very guilty, and soon afterwards Spot
came in, licking his lips.

“Had he eaten the kitten?” his mistress thought, but she didn't
dare say anything.

The next morning when Dodo came down to breakfast, she found
all sorts of nice presents laid out beside her plate.

“They can’t be for me,” she said, but Mother kissed her and said :

“Yes, they are, my pet. You surely haven't forgotten that it is
your birthday? I am so sorry that I have no present for you, but
yesterday I bought you a little white kitten and shut it up in the
morning-room. Some one must have let it out, for we can’t find it
anywhere.”

You can think how Dodo felt then. She grew redder and redder,
and then she burst out crying. After that she did the best thing she
could have done. She told Mother all about it, and Mother kissed
and comforted her, and forgave her, but she made her promise to try
and not be so curious or so disobedient again.

And before breakfast was over, what do you think happened?
Dick, the gardener’s boy, brought in a lovely white Persian kitten, that
he had found in the tool-house. Of course, it was Dodo's, and it was
the very sweetest and dearest kitten in the world.

Spot was inclined to be jealous of the new pet, and was very
naughty at first, barking and snapping at it in a very rude manner;
but in the end even he couldn't help liking the pretty little fluffy
thing. Before a week had passed he and Snow became the very best
of friends, and he wouldn't have chased that kitten for the meatiest
bone in a whole butcher's shop.

L. L, Weedon.

os OQuegn’s SEWELS .

HERE was once a King who was very rich and powerful.
Ns? He had a splendid kingdom, much gold and jewels, and
f a beautiful Queen who loved him dearly. But he was
not happy—for someone had told him that somewhere in
¢g the world, there were five jewels more beautiful than any in
i his royal treasury. So he kissed his dear wife, and though

she clung round his neck and begged him, with many tears, not to
leave her, he set forth. ,

“Tt is for you I want the jewels,’ he said, and left her.

He travelled east and he travelled west, but nowhere could he
find the five jewels more beautiful than his own. He travelled north
and he travelled south, but found no jewels such as he sought.

At last he came upon a flight of white steps, in the heart of a
pine-wood. And the steps led down, down, down into the middle of
the earth. “I have gone east and west and north and south,” he said;
“now I will go down.” And down he went; the steps went on, and on,
and on, and the King grew tired and faint. At last he found himself
in a great crystal hall, and there on a rainbow-coloured throne sat a
black giant, and in his crown blazed five jewels—two sapphires, two
rubies, and a fine pearl, as big as a woman’s heart.



“Will you sell your jewels?” asked the King; “I will give you
Aye puces.

“They are yours,” answered the giant. “You shall pay the price
when you come by our kingdom again.”

So the King took the jewels and went home rejoicing. But when

4*
rer TWILIGHT TALES.

he came to his own kingdom, he found all changed. No one knew
him, and in his palace were strange faces, and on his throne sat his
Queen—an old, old woman with white hair. He fell on his knees
before her, and laid the jewels on her lap, and he trembled with fear
and sorrow, for he saw that the time he had spent seeking the jewels
had been years and not days.

“JT do not know you,” said the Queen, looking sadly at him.

And then the King knew what was the price he had paid for the
jewels. He said no more, but he started up and went out. He travelled
east and he travelled west, he travelled north and he travelled south,
and at last he found the pine-wood and the steps again.

And when he reached the crystal hall, he found the black giant
still sitting on his rainbow throne. ‘And in his crown blazed five
jewels—far more beautiful than those the King held in his hand.

“Let me undo the bargain,’ cried the King; “take back your
stones, and let all be as it was.”

The black giant laughed. “I will take back the jewels,” he said,
‘Gf you will give me all your other wealth.”

“Take everything,” said the King; “only give me back my Queen
—let her be young again and love me.”

Then the giant looked at him more kindly, and reached out a
great black hand, and the King gladly put the jewels into it.

Now the giant took the gold jewelled crown from his head, and
held it out—but the King covered his eyes with his hands.

“No—no,” he cried. “I want no more jewels,”

“O foolish man!” said the black giant, “the sapphires are made of
the blue of your Queen’s eyes. The rubies are coloured with the red
of her young lips, and the pearl is pure with the purity of her heart,
and the crown is made of the gold of her hair.”

So then the King took the crown and went. And he came again
to his kingdom—and still all was changed and strange, and still the
sad, faded Queen sat on the throne alone. He took the sapphires,
THE PEN FAIRY. 45

and laid them on her tired eyes, he laid the rubies on her pale hips,
on her white hair he set the gold crown, and laid the pearl on the
heart that had once loved him. .

And at once the jewels vanished, and his Queen—young and
beautiful as ever—clasped him in her arms, and who then was so
happy as they?

But all their wealth was gone—so they left off being King and
Queen, and went and lived like other folk. And they are the happiest
people in the world to this day.



Na :
(NEA GHERE w Fairy who lived in the holl
vio ee RE was OMe eae ner yu ORM eine Sie ene oy
\ JP > part of a quill pen. It was a very pretty palace
Y t for a fairy, with half-transparent walls. And hers was
a

a happy life. The only thing that troubled her was

a
‘ \ > that the man who used the pen only wrote logic and
: grammar and really sensible things.
“Why can’t he write poetry and fairy stories?”

she used to say. ‘Oh, what beautiful things this dull man could write
if he only knew that there was a Fairy in his pen!”

So one day when the man who used the pen had gone to a dull
lecture, she wrote on the blotting-paper:— “ There its a fairy in your
pen!” “And now,” she thought, “he will surely let me help him
to write poetry and fairy stories.”

But the stupid man thought the children had written the words
on his blotting-paper, so he sent them to bed, and the Fairy cried till
the ink was quite pale from having so many tears mixed with it.
46 TWILIGHT TALES.

And the man, finding that his pen wrote worse and worse, threw
it into his waste-paper basket. His housekeeper picked it out. “I'll
mend this pen,” she said, “and use it for my books.”

“Oh! now,” thought the Fairy, “someone really is going to write
fairy stories and poetry with me.”

But the housekeeper only used the pen for adding up the baker’s
and butcher's bills, and the Fairy got very angry. So she left the quill
pen and came to live with me. And I try to be kind to her, and
never hurt her feelings by writing logic or grammar or anything really
sensible. : : E. Nesbit.


2 ig
AG é Pove AA AT CH:

9 OU would never think, to see the Matches lying so
quietly in their box in the daytime, that they really
have rather a pleasant life, and very exciting ad-
ventures. But they do. Every night the Matches creep:
out of their box and hide it, and put on pretty paper
frocks and coats, and go and dance with their friends.
That ‘is why you can hardly ever find a match-box in
the dark, and if you do it is almost always an empty one.

Well, at one of the Match parties a young wooden Match with
a red head fell in love with the sweetest little Princess of a Wax
Match you ever saw. She wore a white smooth frock, and her head
was brown.

“How I love you!” said the Red-headed Match.

“And I you!” said the brown-headed little lady. “But they tell
me your box is in the kitchen. That is very low.”

“Never mind,” said the lover; “I will come and live with you.”

So when the party was over the two went to live in the mother-
of-pearl box in the drawing-room. And that was high life indeed.

But the Queen of the Wax Matches was very angry.

“She has married beneath her,’ she cried; “off with her head!”

And sure enough at that moment the housemaid came to light
the fire, and she struck the little white Princess Match against the
bar of the grate, and her brown head fell off! The wooden Match
did not want to live now his lady was beheaded, so he pressed for-
ward into the housemaid’s hand—and she struck him and lit the fire
with him; and what was left of him fell beside his white lady. So
the two faithful lovers were buried together in the ashes.




L. Nesbit.
Ge Buttle,
% Flos DoLr.

HE was lost as they went through the wood. How it
happened nobody quite knew, but they supposed she
must have tumbled out of the perambulator as Kitty
{ pushed it through the ferns and long grasses, and so
-» oy poor Dolly was left there, lying on her back, staring up
at as much sky as was visible through the fern-fronds, and the fox-
glove leaves, and the branches of the trees overhead.

Would they come back for her? The children’s voices and foot-
steps grew fainter and fainter, till at last they died quite away in the
distance, and the robin began singing again on the branch over her
head. Presently the little bird caught sight of Dolly, and flew down
and looked at her with his bright eyes, and then a tiny field-mouse ran
round and over her with her little light paws—which must have tickled,
but still Dolly never moved, and a wise old beetle came out of his
hole, and twiddled his long whiskers as he peered at her curiously.’

“Sweet! sweet!” said the robin. “Who is she?”

“Twee! twee!” whispered the mouse. “I don’t know!”

“Hum, hu-um!” buzzed the beetle. “Why doesn’t she speak?”

But Dolly didn’t say a word!

Now, eventide came, and the sun grew tired, and put himself to
bed under a crimson-and-gold counterpane. The robin found a com-
fortable twig on which to perch, and tucked his head under his wing.
The mouse went home to her babies, of whom she had six—all packed
warm and tight in a neat little nest hung on to a cornstalk in the
next field. And the beetle spread his shining wings and went for a
fly round before he, too, rolled himself in a roseleaf blanket and went
to sleep! But Dolly never closed her eyes!



cle lelilemy [es lolol e[esrcaa 2 OC) Sluae DOE. 49



Then the great stars lit their lamps, and looked down at her
through the fern-fronds, but if they said anything no one heard them
—they were too far off!

“Dolly, dear Dolly, where are you?” cried a little voice, and
little footsteps came pressing through the tall bracken fern.

But Dolly didn’t answer!

“Dolly! Dolly! Oh! I wish I could find my Dolly!” There
were tears in the little voice now, and the footsteps were more
hurried. Yet Dolly lay still!

The sobs grew louder and louder, the little feet almost touched
Dolly as she lay hidden under the big foxglove; then the little steps
50 TWILIGHT TALES.

went on, and the sobs grew fainter in the distance, and Dolly lay still
staring up at the sky!

So the days went by, and the winter came, and the falling leaves
drifted over Dolly, and the snow covered her, but she never moved
nor shivered—till one day in spring-time a great wind arose, which
blew all the dead dry leaves away in little rustling dances—and lo!
John the woodman caught sight of Dolly’s pink cheeks and blue eyes
still staring up at the sky!

“Why,” he exclaimed, “I do believe there’s little missie’s doll, as
she fretted so at losing!”

And he took Dolly home in his pocket ! Af. A. Hoyer.

Rie QWoop FARIeS:

a WISH there were fairies still,” sighed Meg ruefully; “it
seems to me there is nothing nice left in the world
at all.”

Meg was sitting under the shade of a tall old elm,
AB and staring with miserable eyes at a round patch of bright

‘green grass. “Fairy rings” the country folk call these
green circles, but Meg had long since given up all a of ever seeing
a fairy.

Poor little Meg! she had no Father or Mother, and lived with her
Aunt, who had a large family of her own and was not very well
pleased to have another mouth to feed. So Meg often went hungry
to bed, and had to put up with many a harsh word she little deserved.

“JT wish there were fairies,” she said aloud, and close beside her
there rang out a soft, silvery little laugh that might have come from
a fairy.




AMheg sat watching the fairy Tings.
52 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Poor little maid!’’ said a kind voice, and a soft arm stole
caressingly around Meg’s shoulders. ‘“ What a doleful little girl it is,
and why do you wish there were fairies still?”

“Tm so miserable,’ said Meg, “no one wants me and I’m no
use to anyone.”

“Ah!” said the lady. “I feel like that too sometimes.”

This Meg could hardly believe. “Why, you are so pretty,” she
said, “you look like a fairy yourself, if only you were smaller.”

“Tm not half so——’ The lady stopped short. She had been
going to say “not half so pretty as you,’ but instead she said: “Well,
I want you now, dear; I want you to sit still under that tree a little
longer, whilst I make a sketch of you for my picture.” So there the
two sat all that pleasant summer afternoon, the lady painting, whilst
Meg poured out the story of her troubles to sympathetic ears.

I think the fairies must have been at work that afternoon. Alice
Graham always said so afterwards, for surely no one but a fairy could
have guided the pretty white hand so skilfully, and made such a lovely
little picture out of poor little Meg under the big elm-tree.

When the shadows began to deepen Alice put her paints away.

“Good-bye, little Meg,” she said; “I shall not forget you!”

Ah! the little wood fairies had heard Meg’s words for certain.
The winter passed away, and spring came round, and with the spring
came the exhibition at the Royal Academy. And then it was that
the fairies left their magic circles and came trooping- up to town to
fit rose-coloured spectacles to the eyes of all who looked upon the
picture of a lovely little maiden, sitting in the shadow of an old elm. |

“Meg, my dear, my dear,’ cried Alice, “you have made my
fortune. A very modest one perhaps, but we will share it together,
and we will never be lonely or sad again.”

And the fairies flew back to their woodland home well pleased,
having left two happy hearts behind them. L. L. Weedon.
NY

ne Farry es oe



= =3HERE was once a Fairy who had a long journey to
“Oo i take, and she had nothing to ride.

ey 4 “T can’t walk, of course,” she said—‘‘no really
oe ‘| superior Fairy would do that—and flying is so very tiring,
Heat especially: in wet weather.”

x Just then a Mouse dashed past, and quick as thought the
4 Fairy leaped upon its back. “You must be my horse,” she cried ;
“take me to Rainbow-land !”

But the Mouse only ran round and round on the floor.

“How hard your back is—you must be very strong. Come—be
off to Rainbow-land!” said the Fairy.

But the Mouse only ran round and round, faster and faster, till
the Fairy felt quite giddy.

“How dare you disobey me?” the Fairy asked angrily.

But the Mouse still ran round and round—and then the Fairy saw
that a big tabby-cat was running after it. Round and round they went.
The Fairy was too frightened even to jump off.

“Run, run,” she cried, “to Rainbow-land !”

“T can’t,’ said the Mouse hoarsely. “I can only run round and
round. I’m a clock-work Mouse.” Fe

“Run for your life!” cried the Fairy, who didn't believe him.
‘“‘Clock-work or not, that cat’ll have you, if you don’t!”

“Not it!” said the Mouse, and it spoke very hoarsely now, for
it was almost run down; “it’s a clock-work cat!”

And the Mouse’s voice died away in a husky “click,” for its
works were quite run down!

So the Fairy had to walk after all. LE. Nesbit.
News ~Seerer.

NC < her anywhere. Poor Baby cried till his pretty

» eyes were all swollen and red, for Nell was
his favourite playmate, and he missed her
dreadfully.

“Never mind, old man,” said Mother, kissing him.
“She'll come back again some day.” And so she did.
One day a little half-starved ragged-looking dog
came creeping up to the nursery, and Baby uttered a
shout of joy. “Mamma, Mamma,’ he cried, “ Nell’s



come back.”

The good little dog licked Baby’s hands and face, and wagged her
tail by way of saying, “ How are you, darling Babs, after all this long
time ?”

But, when Mother set a dish of food before her, she gobbled it
up in no time, and then, scarcely waiting to say “Thank you,’ she
ran out of the nursery, downstairs, and after that no one knew what
had become of her, for she was lost again.

However, the next day she came back again, and the next, and
the next, and one fine morning she trotted up to the nursery, drag-
ging with her the sweetest little puppy you ever saw.

Poor doggie! she was very proud of her little son, but oh! so
frightened lest any harm should come to him.

Mother picked up the fat little fellow and put him on a chair,
and then lifted Baby up to look, and Nell jumped upon the chair
beside her son, and looked piteously up into Mother’s face.

“All right, old dog,” said Mother; “I wouldn't harm your baby




















































to see the two doggtes.

Mother lifted up Baby
56 TWILIGHT TALES.

for anything, because you are always so good to mine.” Nell under-
stood in a moment what Mother had said, jumped down from the
chair, and ran towards the door, whining and looking back.

Mother knew she was meant to follow; so she and Baby went
with the little dog, who led them down the garden towards the stables,
and then up into the hayloft, and there, behind a large truss of hay,
they found four other dear little puppies, just like the one Nell had
brought to the nursery.

They carried them into the house, and Baby was allowed to keep
one, which he trained to become a very clever doggie, and the others
were sent to the Home Farm.

And why do you think Nell had kept her secret so well? She
had been afraid that someone would rob her of her darlings; so she
had hidden them up until they were old enough to trot about nicely,
and were so sweet and pretty that she was sure no one would have
the heart to harm them.

L. L. Weedon.
















UST as the Mother was going to make
the tea, she heard a funny, faint voice
from the tea-pot, crying:

“Oh, please don’t scald me with the boiling
water! Take me out! Take me out!”

The Mother, greatly astonished, peeped into
the tea-pot—it was one which she had not used
for some time—and saw there a queer little
man, dressed all in green, with a green cap upon his head.

“How did you get into my tea-pot?” asked she.

“A cruel Fairy put me here,” replied the little man; “please, oh,
please take me out!”

The Mother took him out, and placed him upon the table.
How delighted the children were to see him trotting round and
round, taking tiny sips from their cups, and crumbs from their plates!

“Ts it a doll, Muvver?” asked Baby.

“A doll, indeed!” exclaimed the little green man; “I am no
doll! Did you ever see a doll walk, or hear a doll talk? I ama
man!” And he stood on tip-toe and straightened himself up in
such an amusing fashion that all the children laughed.



on
58 I WGO ENGIN: IPGL IES).

When bed-time came, the little green man was put to bed in
‘the doll’s house. But early in the morning, Dora was awakened
‘by something tickling her nose. Opening her eyes, she saw the
green man standing upon her pillow.

“You darling!” said Dora; “you shall go into the garden with
me, and see my pretty white rabbits.” ioe

Jumping out of bed, she dressed herself as quickly as possible ;
then, with the little man standing on. one hand, and some green
food for her pets in the other hand, she ran down the garden.
When she got to the hutch, she fed the rabbits with the nice, fresh,
juicy cabbage-leaves, while the little man looked on with much
interest. The rabbits were very hungry, and when they had eaten
all the leaves, one of them made a sudden snatch at the little green
man, and ate fim up also. Being rather short-sighted, it mistook
the green man for a leaf.

Such was the sad fate of the little green man! E. Dyke.





AW
\\

Me
AA
SEO

\
\
SS)


“KG
“‘Rupeer Fairy.

HERE are no fairies, did you say? Why,
whatever are we coming to?” said Uncle
James.
“But I’ve never seen one,’ said Harry.
Ne “T daresay not, but what do you suppose
We ae Z, “. makes your ball bounce? Why, the fairy inside
TaN ly it, to be sure.”
“ Harry laughed at the time, but afterwards
he oe help thinking about it. Did fairies really live in india-
rubber balls? If not, what made them bounce ?

He thought and he thought and he thought—and at last he took
out the new brown-handled knife Uncle James had given him, and he
cut a hole in his indiarubber ball.

“Now I shall know!” he said. And he looked inside—but he
was no wiser than before. But that night when he was in bed he
saw a little lady, with gray gauze wings, sitting on his pillow.

“Thank you so much,” she said, “for letting me out. A wicked
enchanter shut me and my million brothers up in balls, and when we
struggle to get out, the balls bounce.”

Then she vanished. Next morning Harry thought he had only
dreamed about her, so he ran to his ball; but there was the hole he
had made, and sure enough the ball never bounced again.

“Because there is no fairy in it,’ Uncle James says.

LL, Nesbit.



5*
ENE Ait tLe Baneine Eire.

eel

|
|
|




oS ~ 4-0 HERE was once a little girl

who was so fond of dancing
that she never did anything
else.

She danced whilst she took
her breakfast, so that her
nice bread-and-milk was spilt
upon the ground; she danced
on her way to school, and
was late in consequence; she
danced when she took her
dinner, and dropped the soup
down her pretty frock and
spoilt it; and even when she
was tucked up in bed at
night, her little feet kept
dancing up and down beneath
the bed-clothes, and she
dreamt that she was treading
a minuet with the King of
the Fairies.

Now, of course this was
very wrong indeed of the little

girl. It is all very well to dance at the proper time, but out of time
and season, as this little girl danced, it is a very bad thing indeed.

Her mother reasoned with her, coaxed her, scolded her; but it
was all of no use, for she danced the more.
INERD IRIGCIPILID. UD UNI GIN CT CIURIE- 6r

The little girls mother was very poor, and there were ever so
many little brothers and sisters who wanted taking care of, but she
was too selfish to think of anyone but herself; sometimes her
mother would ask her to take the baby and hush him to sleep, but
she pouted and grumbled and made a terrible fuss. If she did
take him up in her arms for a while, she kept dancing round the
room with the poor sleepy little fellow, till she wakened him up,
and then he would scream and cry, and would not be soothed till
his mother took him again.

So you see, the foolish little girl was of no use to anyone.

One day when she was dancing to school as usual, she met an
old woman upon the way. And because she stood in the pathway
and the dancing maiden could not pass her easily, she danced
across the old woman’s toes.

Now, it happened that the old woman was a fairy, and. she
was so angry and offended with the little girl that she determined
to punish her.

“You shall have dancing enough to last you all the days of
your life,” she said, and with a wave of her wand, she turned her
into a chimneéy-cowl, which, as everyone knows, does nothing the
livelong day, but whirl round and round till it almost makes one
giddy to watch it. And the next time you go out for a walk, you
have only to look upwards to where the chimneys grow, and you
may see for yourself the little dancing-girl, who was so rude as to
tread upon the fairy’s toes, going whirl, whirl! the whole day long,
whether she will or no.

And the moral of this story is—“Don’t dance out of time and
season, and don’t tread) upon old women’s toes, or there is no
knowing but what you may be turned into a chimney-cowl also.”

“. L. Weedon.
ft wordy ~WaR.

Oe ed



af V4 YEE up, Dobbin! Gee up! Whoa! There, now! you've
A ss acy fallen down. Jump up; don’t cry, Eddie.”
BAC FS “Oh, oh! look: I’se hurted my poor knee,’ sobbed
a * the little fellow.
\ “Never mind; it will soon be better,” cried his sister

RR. soothingly. “See, I will put my handkerchief round it, like
Mother does.”

“Robin,” whispered Mrs. Jenny Wren, “what's all that hubbub ?”

“Why, it’s those children from Myrtle Cottage,’ said Robin;
“they've been playing at horses, and one of them has fallen down and
hurt his knee.”

“Dear, dear! how foolish to let the poor things out to play on
such a cold, frosty morning,” said Jenny.

“Rubbish!” cried Robin. “Not at all, my dear. Children can’t
be cooped up in the nest all day long.’

“In the nest!” laughed Jenny. “ You stupid old Robin—children
don’t live in nests!”

“Well, houses,” said Robin crossly. “But it’s all the same; and
as I was about to say when you interrupted me so unkindly—children
as well as birds want to exercise their legs and wings.”

“Ha! ha! ha! you really must excuse my laughing,” said Jenny,
“but did you say ‘wings, Robin?”

“Yes, I did,’ answered Robin crossly. ‘I suppose I ought to
have said ‘arms’; but since I can't open my beak without being
corrected, I'll wish you good-morning, and go away.”

“Don't be cross, Bobby,” whispered his little wife coaxingly.

But Robin was very cross, and flew down into Sweetbriar Lane,
A WORDY WAR. 63

muttering to himself, “I shouldn’t fly away only it’s too bad of Jenny
always picking me up like that; so I'll just take a peep at those
children, and see if Eddie’s left off crying yet. I’m sure he can have
nothing to cry for. He’s not corrected and laughed at from morning
till night.”

When Robin reached the ground, Eddie’s little sister was saying,


64 TWILIGHT TALES.

“You're all right now, Dobbin. So off you go again.” And Eddie
stood, tossing his head up and down, ready to start.

“Where shall we do?” said the little fellow.

“Oh, Eddie!” cried his little sister, “you mustn’t say ‘do.’ Only
babies talk like that, and mous on like to be thought a baby,
would you? You must say ‘go.’

But Eddie, who did not like being corrected any more ee the
Robin, ran off into the middle of the lane, and kept repeating, “Do,
do,” and stamping with all his might. “You're a very naughty boy,”
said the little girl severely, “and I shan’t let you play horses again.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Eddie; “me dood now!”

“Why, that’s wrong, too,’ laughed the little sister; “you ave a
baby! Why don’t you say ‘good’ like I do?”

“Me won't! me run away!” And off he scampered as fast as
his chubby legs could carry him.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Robin Redbreast; “she’s worse than
my Jenny. No wonder the little chap’s run away from her.”

Just then Nurse, who was getting anxious about her little charges,
came running out into the lane. “Where’s Eddie?” she said.

“Oh, Nurse, he’s run away!” cried the little girl; “he was so
cross because I corrected him.”

“Ah, there’s two ways of doing that,” said Nurse. .“ You made
fun of him now, didn’t you?”

“Yes, she did,’ whispered the Robin, but the little girl said
nothing, only hung her head as though she were sorry and ashamed.
“Well,” said Nurse, “we must go and find him, Miss Jenny.”

“Why, her name’s Jenny too—how extraordinary!” exclaimed
Robin. “Then the Jennys must be all alike for poking fun at folks.
I'll fly back now to our tree, and hear what Mrs. Wren thinks of the
quarrel. Well, my dear wife,’ began Robin, nestling close up beside
her, “did you hear those children quarrelling just now?”

“Yes, Bobby,” said Jenny.
A WORDY WAR. 65

“And now that you see how horrid it is,” said Robin, “you
won't be always finding fault with me—eh, my dear?”

“No,” said Jenny. “I shall never correct you unless you ask me.”

“But how can I ask if I don’t know what’s wrong?” said Robin.

“J don't know,” said Jenny slyly. “You will have to stay
ignorant, I’m afraid, my dear.”

“But I shan’t like that, for then you'd soon be more clever than
‘I. No, that would never do—you must correct me, Jenny, sometimes.”

“Very well,’ chirped his little wife; “so I will; only promise
that you won't be too proud to be taught.” ,

Robin promised, and just then Nurse and Eddie and his little
sister came slowly up.the lane. Eddie was saying, “Me dood boy
now,” over and over again; and Jenny, who was walking with her
arm round his neck, did not attempt to correct him. “Poor little
chap; I’m glad they've found him,” said Robin, peeping down from
the tree. “I’m sure he'll be glad enough to get back to his nest.” '

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Jenny Wren. ‘Why won't he say
‘house’? I know I ought to put him right, but I can’t begin correcting

him again so soon; and after all, a nest’s as good as a house any day.”
L. Haskell.


XY O

eI Ce5 Toreet-me - NOT.



WANE upon a time there lived a King and -
aN Queen who had an only daughter. And
because her pretty blue eyes were just
the colour of the little blossoms that
grew by the brook-side the little Princess
was called “ Forget-me-not.”

Forget-me-not was as beautiful as
the sunshine, but she was not a very
happy little Princess, because. unfortu-
nately she had been born with a glass
heart; and her parents were so afraid
lest it should be broken that they would
never allow her to run about and play
as little children love to do, but she
was always made to walk sedately along with a lady-in-waiting on
either side to see that she did not fall.

So much care was taken, that the Princess grew up to be a
beautiful young maiden of eighteen without any accident having
happened to her. But upon her eighteenth, birthday she was sitting
by the open window looking out into the world, thinking how beautiful
it was, when presently she saw a gallant knight come riding past.

He looked so happy and gay, and he sang such a merry strain
as he rode along, that the Princess sighed as she watched him.

“I wish I might go out into the world,” she said sadly. “It is
so lonely here. Oh, dear! if only my heart were not made of glass!”

But the knight rode on, singing as he went, and the Princess
leaned from her window to watch him out of sight.
PRINCESS FORGET-ME-NOT. 67

‘And as she looked she forgot all about her glass heart and that
she was a Princess and the daughter of a great King and Queen; she
only thought what a happy face the young knight had, and how
beautiful were his soft violet eyes. Alas, for the Princess! Just at that
moment a lady-in-waiting appeared and uttered an exclamation of
horror as she saw the dangerous position of her young mistress.

This startled the Princess, and with a cry, she fell from the window
upon the greensward below. It was not very far to fall, but
princesses with glass hearts are more delicate than most people. The
misfortune which her parents had guarded against so carefully had
happened at last—her heart was broken!

What was to be done nobody knew, but the Queen decided to
send at once for the Princess's fairy godmother and see if she could
help them. “Send for the knight who caused the mischief,” the fairy
decreed, and at once the knight was summoned. The fairy godmother
then told him about the poor little Princess. “There is only one thing
to be done,” she said. “If you would save the Princess’s life you
must give her your own heart in place of the one she has broken.”

She led the knight, whose name was “Prince Heartsease,’ into
the room where the little lady lay, and no sooner did he look upon
her sweet gentle face, and gaze into her lovely blue eyes, than the
tears of pity welled up into Ais eyes, and he fell on his knees beside
the silken couch, and laid his warm, true heart at the feet of little
Forget-me-not. The surprising thing was that the knight seemed not
a whit the worse for the loss of his heart, and as for the Princess,
she rose up from her couch as bright and healthy a little maiden as
one could wish to see.

_~ So all ended happily, for the Princess had gained a warm, tiving
heart in place of her glass one, and the knight won a bride; for he
and Forget-me-not were married that very day, and lived happily ever
afterwards. L. L, Weedon.





\ @ HERE were two robins in the orchard hedge last
Spring. They had a dear little nest, and two bluey
eggs, and they were as happy as anyone need
wish to be.
But one.day a Boy came by, and he went off with
f the two eggs in a pill-box. Then the little robins sat
( and cried all night.
But when they looked into the nest in the morning
y they saw where the two bluey eggs had been a small pink



» egg—-the colour of apple-blossoms.
- “T shall hatch this egg,” said Mrs. Robin firmly. ‘Poor
little deserted thing!”

“Take care it doesn’t turn out a cuckoo,” said her husband.

But when the orchard was all pink and white with blossom, the
egg was hatched, and out of it came no cuckoo but a real live Fairy
in a pink gown.

She kissed the Robins again and again. “You dears!” she said.
“A wicked enchanter shut me up in that pink egg—and you know
the only way to get anything alive out of an egg is to hatch it!
So you've saved me. And—well, you'll see.’ And she shook out
her gauzy wings and fluttered off.

Suddenly the Robins heard a faint “Tweet, tweet.” Mrs. Robin
flew to the nest, and there were two baby robins, and the Pink Fairy
was sitting on the edge of the nest. And hundreds of pink apple-blossom
fairies were crowding round.
THE PINK EGG. 69

“They are your very own babies,” said the Pink Fairy. “While
you were hatching me, my brothers and sisters stole your eggs from
the Boy, and they've been hatched in Fairyland.”

7



\

wo

’ And that’s why two of the -robins. in our orchard sing more
sweetly than any other robins in the world.
They were hatched in Fairyland, you know, and of course that

makes all the difference.
, E. Nesbitt.
ro. Ce, Cariatmas
PREG PuNen.




OU mustn’t go into the dining-room, children,”
said Mother, popping her head in at the
schoolroom. door.

“All right, Mother!” Jack and Dorothy
and Eva called after her, but Jim didn’t
say anything.

He was the naughty boy of the family,
and went by the name of “ Jim the Terrible,’ and I am afraid he
very often deserved his name.

When the others went to say good-night to Mother, Jim paused
outside the dining-room door; it was open just the least little bit in
the world, and he peeped in and saw a wonderful tree, standing in
the middle of the room, laden with toys.

Right at the top hung a Punch doll, dressed in satin and tinsel,
and he shone and glittered so that Jim could see him better than the
other toys.

But his Mother called to him, so he could not wait to examine
the tree more closely.

When the children were in bed Jim made up his mind to lie
awake, and as soon as the others were asleep, he stole softly down-
stairs to have another look at the Christmas-tree.

The room was a blaze of light now, and the Punch doll at the
top shook his staff at Jim as soon as he entered.
ae

THE CHRISTMAS TREE PUNCH. 71

“Oh! you naughty boy,” he cried. “You Terrible Jim. What
do you mean by coming here when your Mother told you not to go
near the dining-room! I'll teach you to disobey! Oh—o—o—o—!
Go to bed! go to bed!”

All the while Punch was speaking he was growing larger and larger,
until at last he seemed as big as the giant in the pantomime, and then
he gave a terrific jump from the top of the tree, and began to chase
Jim upstairs.

Oh! how the little boy ran, with Punch close behind him all
the time.

At length he reached the nursery, and with a Banna sprang into
his bed and tucked the clothes up round him. There he lay trembling
for ever such a time, but when at length he ventured to peep out,
the nursery was quite dark, and Punch had evidently gone away, so
he curled himself up and went to sleep.

The next day when the children were called in to the forbidden
room, they simply danced and screamed with delight when they saw
the beautiful Christmas-tree.

At least all except Jim, for when he looked at the Punch doll
on the top of the tree, it seemed to him that it was frowning at
him, and he made up his mind never to peep through cracks of doors
again, when it was forbidden him, ve much he might want to
know what was behind them.

Now, before he had made this good resolution he had been thor-
oughly miserable.

He could take no pleasure at all in the beautiful presents which
Mother gathered for them from the Christmas-tree, for all the time
he was watching the Punch doll to see if he would come down from
his perch and chase him upstairs again.

No sooner did he resolve to be a better boy in future than the
expression on Punch’s face changed in a most surprising manner: he
seemed almost to smile at Jimmy.
72 TWILIGHT TALES.

Even when the tree was stripped of everything except Punch,
and the children were busy pulling the plums out of the big snap-
dragon Father had lighted, Jimmy fancied the old fellow nodded his
head at him once or twice in a friendly fashion, and the little boy
was so relieved and happy that he clapped his hands for joy, and

shouted with the rest.
L. L. Weedon.








ity
{ti}

» ri

=
Bae Snow Wien.

HIER €E was skating on the ponds

where the snow had been cleared ;
there were icicles on the trees, nice
blue, clear skies in the daytime,
cold, bright, wintry moonlight at
night.

Lovely weather for Christmas
holidays! But to one little five-
year-old man, nothing had seemed
lovely this Christmas, though he was spending it with his Father and
Mother and his big sisters at Grandpapa’s beautiful old country-house,
where everybody did all that could be done to make Grandpapa’s
guests happy..

For poor little Roger was pining for his elder brother, Lawson,
whom he had not seen for more than four months. Lawson was
eight, and had been at school since Michaelmas, and there he had
caught a fever which had made it not safe for him to join the rest
of the family till the middle of January. But he was coming to-morrow.

Why, then, did Roger still look sad and gloomy ?

“Stupid little boy,” said Mabel. ‘I’m sure we've tried to amuse
him. Why, Mamma let him sit up an hour later than usual last night,
to hear all those funny old fairy tales and legends Uncle Bob was
telling.”

“Yes, and weren't they fun?” answered Pansy. “I did shiver at
the witch ones, though, didn’t you?”

Poor little Roger! Pansy’s shivering was nothing to his! They
had all walked home from the Vicarage, tempted by the clear frosty




74. DWIGHT ATES.

moonlight, and the hard, dry ground; and trotting along, a little behind
the others, a strange thing had happened to the boy. [Fancy—in the
field by the Primrose Lane, through the gateway, right in a bright band
of moonlight, he had seen a witch! Just such a witch as Uncle Bob
had described—with shadowy garments, and outstretched arms, and a
queer-shaped head, on all of which the icicles were sparkling, just as
Uncle Bob had said. For it was a winter-witch he had told the story
about, whose dwelling was up in the frozen northern seas ; “the Snow
Witch” they called her.

Cold as it was, Roger was in a bath of heat, his heart beating
wildly, his legs shaking, when he overtook his sisters. And the night
that followed was full of terrible dreams and starts, and misery, even
though nurse and Baby were next door, and he could see the night-
light through the chinks.

If it had not been that Lawson was coming—Lawson, who never
laughed at him or called him “stupid little goose”; Lawson, who
listened to all his griefs— Roger could not have borne it. For, strange
to say, the little fellow told no one of his trouble; he felt as if he
could ondy tell Lawson.

No wonder he looked pale and sad and spiritless; there was still
another dreadful night to get through before Lawson came.

But things sometimes turn out better than our fears. Late that
afternoon, when nursery tea was over and bed-time not far off, there
came the sound of wheels and then a joyful hubbub. Lawson had
come! Uncle Bob had been passing near the school where he was,
and had gone a little out of his way to pick him up. Everyone was
delighted—though of them all, zone so thankful as Roger.

“Though I won't tell him to-night,” decided the unselfish little
fellow, “not to spoil his first night. I shan’t mind when I know he’s
in his cot beside me.” And even when Lawson lovingly asked him
if anything were the matter, he kept to his resolution.

But he awoke in the middle of the night from a terrible dream ;
THE SNOW WITCH. 75

Lawson awoke too, and then—out it all came. “I thought she was
coming in at the window,” Roger ended. “If—if you look out— it’s
moonlight—-I think p’raps you'll see where she stands. But no, no;
don't—don’t,; she might see you.”

So Lawson agreed to wait till to-morrow. “I have an idea,” he

Oy



said. “You go to sleep. J’m here, and you can say your prayers again
if you like.”

Lawson was up very early next morning. And as soon as break-
fast was over he told Roger to come out with him. Down the Prim-
rose Lane they went, in spite of Roger’s trembling.
76 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Now, shut your eyes,” said Lawson, when they got to the gate.
He opened it, and led his brother through.

“Look, now!” he said, with a merry laugh. And what do you
think Roger saw ?

An old scarecrow, forgotten since last year. There she stood, the
“Snow Witch’—an apron and ragged shawl, two sticks for arms, a bit
of Grandpapa’s hat to crown all—that was the witch !

“Shake hands with her, Roger,’ said Lawson. And shake hands
they both did, till the old scarecrow tumbled to pieces, never more
to frighten either birds or little boys. ‘Dear Lawson,” said Roger
lovingly, as he held up his little face for a kiss. And happy, indeed,
were the rest of the Christmas holidays. L. Molesworth.

pine laceee
Sa Cn INGOOKS.

: 4 LLIE,” said Mother, stopping, “I have forgotten the soap!
a You must take the children home, dear, while I go
— back.”
‘I oe So Ellie went on with the flock. But when they
> came to thé Ferry and shouted for Tom to bring the boat, no

Tom answered.

“We must wait,” said Ellie.

But after a while the children grew tired and hungry, and Baby
began to cry for Mother.

“Oh! don’t cry, Baby, darling,’ exclaimed Ellie; “don’t cry, and

Tl tell you about—about the little Chingooks!”

‘Who were the Chingooks?” cried the children, fergetting their
troubles at the idea of a story.




THE LITTLE CHINGOOKS. a7

“There were five of them,’ said Ella, “and they were all alike,
and they always went for a walk hand-in-hand. One day they saw
a little red house, with a cherry-tree in the garden, covered with such
big cherries, and an old lady came out and gave them one each.

“Take care of the stones, she said, ‘and when you want anything
very much, plant them and see what comes!’

“So they went a little farther, and there was a beautiful Palace,
and the Prince who lived in it was just going to be married. Now,
the Chingooks wanted to go to the wedding, but the people said they
must take a present to the bride; then they remembered their
cherry-stones.

“So the first Chingook planted his cherry-stone, and up came a
damson-tree, all covered with damson cheeses. He took them to
the Palace, and they said they were just what they wanted for the
wedding breakfast.

“And the second Chingook planted his, and up came a dandelion
all over clocks, and the Prince was charmed, for all the thyme had
grown wild at the Palace!

“And the third Chingook pianted his, and up came a gooseberry-
bush, and pop! out came a lot of sweet little geese, and they said
they would do for Michaelmas.

“And the fourth Chingook planted his, and up came a Jacob's
Ladder, and that did splendidly, because the Palace roof wanted
mending, and they did not know how to get at it!

“And the fifth Chingook planted his stone, and up came a Turk’s
Cap Lily. So he put it on, and then they thought he was the great
Panjandrum himself, and asked him to take the head of the table!

_ “So all the five Chingooks were at the Prince’s wedding, and they
danced till Oh! oh!” shouted Ellie, “there's dear old Mrs. Tom!
She will bring the boat, and we shall get home by tea-time.”

M. A. Hoyer.


Bur rack at.

NCE upon a time there were three little kittens
who set out to seek their fortunes.. The first kitten
found a ‘big barn. “Ah,” he said, “this is a good
enough fortune for me.” And he stayed there, and
the rats and the mice: who lived in the barn were
very much annoyed. And the second kitten walked
in at the dairy dwor, and the dairymaid said: “You
pretty tabby thing, you shall stay with me.”

“That’s good enough fortune,” said the kitten, and he lives on
cream to this day, and he is so fat that he is quite round.

But our black cat (who was the third kitten) was more adven-
turous. He was running after a young sparrow, and not looking



where he was going, so he fell plump into a well, and there would
certainly have been an end of him, but that a good-sized Fairy, who
lived in that well, and happened to want a cat, pulled him out of the
water, and helped him to scramble up on to a ledge in the well-side.

“Now,” said she, “will you be my horse and let me ride on you
on fine nights?”

“Yes,” mewed the kitten, shivering; “if I must, I must.”

Then the Fairy opened her front door, which was in the side
of the well, and took the wet kitten into her palace, where there was
a blazing fairy fire. Fairy servants came and dried the kitten, and
gave him warm milk to drink.

“Ah,” said the kitten, “you are something like a Fairy. I will
be your horse with pleasure.”
OUR BLACK CAT. 79

“That’s better,” said the Fairy. “The willing horse does the most
work, but he gets the most pay too. You shall never be cold, or
hungry, or frightened again.”

And she sent the kitten home at once by fairy telegraph.



That's why our black cat sleeps all day. He has to go out all
night for the Fairy to ride him. He seems just like an ordinary cat:

to look at him, you'd never think he was the Fairy’s horse. But he is.
E, Nesbit.
C

eer el | Soe
=f 2 ee 7"
! lea HERE was once a little yellowy-brown rabbit, who

was so proud that there was no bearing him.
He ran away from home and went to live with
some strange rabbits. “I have a right to be
proud,” he said, “because my parents are Belgian
hares.” But he looked so exactly like the other
rabbits that no one believed him, and they
turned him out for boasting.

So he went to live in the cucumber-frame,
and as the gardener did not notice him he
S.._-- ihad rather a good time of it. But presently
the cucumbers were all over, and then the gardener shut up the frame
and went away. And then the bunny grew hungrier and hungrier,
and he cried aloud, but no one would help him. “It serves him right
for being so proud,’ said the other rabbits.

But his mother, who lived quite on the other side of the field,
heard him cry, and she came jumping on to the cucumber-frame with
such a bounce that she broke the glass and tumbled in. ‘Come home
this minute,” she said. “I'll teach you to run away from home.”

As she took him past the strange rabbits they all called out:
“Fiullo, Stuck-up, where are you off to?”

“Fle’s going home to his father and mother,’ said Mrs. Bunny.

“But he said his father and mother were Belgian hares.”

“Belgian fiddlesticks!” said his mother. “I'll teach him to be
ashamed of his family!” So she took him home by the ear. He's quite
a different bunny now, and works hard to support his old father and.
mother, as all good rabbits should. £. Nesbit.








JOMMY was a terrible tease, and poor little
Mamie came in for most of the teasing.
Tommy wasn’t really an unkind little
boy, but he was very thoughtless, and very
often he led Mamie into all sorts of scrapes.
One day he persuaded her to play at Indians
with him; he screwed up her hair into tight
knots, made her shut her eyes and then blacked
her face. When the little girl looked in the
mirror over the mantelpiece and saw how ugly
she was, she ran out of the room, meaning to
go to Nurse to be washed clean again; but
Tommy ran after her, and, just as she was
passing the drawing-room door, he gave her a



push, and in she went, right into the middle of
a group of ladies who were visiting her Mamma. Oh! how angry
Mamma was, for she thought Mamie had done it on purpose.

But what hurt Mamie’s feelings the most was the way in which
Tommy treated her dolls. He didn’t like dolls himself, and he couldn't
understand how his sister cow/d love a silly wax thing. But she did.
She thought Rosalind was the sweetest and loveliest of babies.

One day Tommy bought a penny squirt. He played for a long
time at storms at sea with it, sailing his boat on a big pan of water
‘that stood out in the garden, and squirting at it until it sank.

But he grew tired of this, and then he began to squirt Rosalind,
as she lay cuddled up in Mamie’s arms.

Poor Rosalind! Mamie tried hard to protect her, but in vain.
G
82 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Tt’s only an April shower,” said Tommy, laughing. “It won't hurt her.”
But dolly was soon wet through, and the last remaining bit of pink
on her cheeks came off when Mamie dried her.

The next day Mamie told some of her friends of her troubles,
and the little girls put their heads together to think how they could
punish Tommy. “I know,” said Elsie Martin. And then there was a
great deal of whispering and laughing, after which the little girls parted.

Tommy was going out to tea that afternoon, and as he passed
the end of the garden wall, dressed out in his best, a sudden shower
of water was squirted all over him, spoiling his nice clean suit.

Tommy looked up in astonishment, for it was not raining; then
he heard a great deal of giggling and someone called out: “It’s only
an April shower; it won't hurt you!”

Tommy didn’t say a word, but marched straight home, for he
knew he couldn’t go to his tea-party as he was. Mamie met him at
the door. “I’m so sorry,’ she said, for she had already begun to
repent of what she had done. “Won't you forgive me?”

“Never mind, Mamie,” said Tommy. “It served me right, and
I’m sorry I squirted Rosalind, and I'll never tease you again.”

L. L. Weedon.
: (lw,
FON son RN
see
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“\ NCE there was a little boy called Tommy. His Mother

# sent him one day into the town to buy some needles.
On his way home he got tired of carrying them, so when
he saw a hay-cart which he knew would pass his
Mother’s door he stuck the needles into a bundle
of hay. When he got home his Mother said: “Well,
Tommy, and where are the needles?”

“Oh! Mother, they will be here directly. I was tired of carrying
them, so I stuck them into a hay-cart which is coming this way, and
it will soon be here.”

“Oh, you stupid boy, Tommy! you stupid boy! If you were
tired of carrying the needles you should have stuck them into your
coat.”

“Tl do better next time, Mother; I'll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into the
town and fetch a pound of butter?”


84 TWILIGHT TALES.

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of butter, and put it all
over his coat. When he got home his Mother said: “Well, T ommy,
and where’s the butter?”

“T put it all over my coat, but the sun melted it.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put it on a nice
white plate and covered it with a piece of white paper.”

“Oh! I'll do better next time, Mother; Ill do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has
given us a little hen. Will you go and fetch it?”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. Off he went, fetched the little hen, and
put it ona white plate; but before he could put a nice piece of white
paper over it, it had flown’ quite away!

When he got home, his Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where
is the little hen?”

“Oh! Mother, I did what you told me; I put it on a white plate,
but before I could cover it with a piece of paper it flew quite away.”

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You ought to
have put it in a wicker basket and shut down the lid.”

“T’ll do better next time, Mother; I'll do better next time.”

A few days after, his Mother said: “Tommy, there is a plum-
pudding for dinner. Go and fetch a pound of brown sugar.”

Off went Tommy, bought the pound of sugar, and put it in a
wicker basket, and shut the lid down tight. When he got home his
Mother said: “Well, Tommy, and where’s the sugar ?”

“Here it is, Mother, here it is.” And he opened the basket, but
it was quite empty, for all the sugar had tumbled through the holes
in the wicker-work !

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You should have put the sugar in
a paper bag and tied a piece of string very tightly round it.”

“T'll do better next time, Mother; I’ll do better next time.”

Some time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, Farmer Jones has
promised us a dear little puppy dog. Will you go and fetch it?”
THE STORY OF TOMMY. 85

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, fetched the little puppy
dog, put it in a paper bag, and tied a piece of string very tightly
round its neck. When he got home and opened the bag, the poor
little puppy was quite dead.

“Oh! you stupid boy, Tommy! You stupid boy! You should
have tied a string quite loosely round the little dog’s neck, and let it
run after you, and you should have called, ‘ Hi, little dog!’”

“T'll do better next time, Mother,” said Tommy, crying.

A long time after, his Mother said: “Tommy, will you go into
the town and fetch a leg of mutton? Now, mind you bring it home
very carefully.”

“Oh! yes,” said Tommy. So off he went, bought a leg of mutton,
tied a piece of string round it, and dragged it after him on the ground,
and said: “Hi, little dog! Ho, little dog!” and all the little dogs in
the town came after him and ate the mutton, and when he got home
there was nothing left but the bone!

When his Mother saw it, she said: “Really, Tommy, you are foo
stupid; you really are gute a goose.”

A little while after, Tommy was nowhere to be found. His
Mother hunted everywhere for him; she cried “Tommy!” here and
“Tommy!” there, but she could not find him. As she was coming
through the yard and crying and calling, “Tommy! where’s my boy
Tommy?” she heard a little voice that seemed to come from the
poultry-house: “Here I am, Mother; here I am!”

She opened the door, and there was Tommy sitting on the goose’s
nest. She asked him what he was doing, and he said: “Oh! Mother,
you said I was quite a goose, so I thought I had better come and sit
on the goose’s nest, and I’ve broken all the eggs!”

Wasn't he a silly boy ? Constance ALlilman.
NCE upon a time there was a good and beautiful
Princess, who had heard that “Truth” was at the
bottom of a well; so she went to look for it.

Of course, she did not know which well, and —
before she found the right one she had got quite
tired of being let down in buckets by long ropes.

But at last she came to a well in the dark-
est part of a pine wood, and her heart told her

that here her search would end. So she looked down, and saw the
bright circle of shining water far, far below.

“But how am I to get down?” she said.

And just then the son of the wood-reeve came by.

“Shall I go down for you, pretty lady?” he asked.

“T must go myself,” she answered. “My fairy godmother said so.”

So she got into the bucket and he lowered her very carefully.
And when she got down she found that the shining circle she had
seen was not water but a mirror, and on its frame was written oné
word—“ Truth.”

She came up with the mirror held fast in her arms, and she
thanked the wood-reeve’s son and went home.

Now, when in due time came suitors for her hand, the Princess
said to each: “How do you like my mirror?” And one after the
other they looked in the mirror, and then fled with shrieks of fear.

The King and Queen looked in the mirror and beheld only their
good and noble faces.

“What frightens the Princes, your suitors?’ they asked.


THE MIRROR OF TRUTH. | By

Then the Princess told them that this was the Mirror of: Truth,
and that those who looked in it saw their own true natures.

“The Princes, my suitors, had wicked hearts,” she said, “and when
they saw their true selves they were afraid.”



And no good Prince came there to woo, so the years went on
and the Princess was still unwed.

One day, walking in the forest, the Princess met once again the
wood-reeve’s son, but he was grown a man, and as soon as the
88 PWILIGHT TALES.

Princess saw him she loved him. She ran and brought her mirror.

“Are you afraid to look in it?” she said. “It is the Mirror of Truth.”
“Why should I be afraid?” he asked. And he looked in the

mirror, and the Princess, leaning over his shoulder, looked too.

He started back with a cry. “I am not like that,’ he said. For
the mirror had shown him a face like his own but a thousand times
more beautiful, for it revealed now the full glory of his noble nature.
And as the Princess looked in the mirror she read his inmost heart.

“Why, you love me,” she said softly.

“I have loved you ever since I first saw you,” he said.

And when the King and Queen saw his face reflected in the
mirror they said: “Take our daughter, for you alone are worthy of her.”

So they were married, and the wood-reeve’s son is King of all



the land. E. Nesbit.
a S JSNEw aS tHIp.
Seren ’ .
\ /AHERE are you off to, children?” said Mother. She
was just stepping into the carriage to pay a round of

visits when Geoffrey and his sister came running out
of the house in a state of breathless excitement.

“We're going down to the river to sail my ship, Mother,” said
Geoffrey. “I'l look after Rosie and see that she comes to no harm.”

“My dear boy, I couldn’t think of letting you go by yourselves,”
said Mother. ‘Father will be home to-morrow, and then he will take
you,” she added, as she saw the children’s eager faces begin to
cloud over. Then she kissed them both, got into the carriage, and
drove away.

“It's a jolly shame!” said Geoffrey crossly. “As if we should





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90 TWILIGHT TALES.

come to any harm! Why, I’m as well able to take care of you as
Father. Of course I shouldn’t let you fall in.”

“Well, it’s no use,” sighed Rosie; “we can’t go, so we may as
well think of something else to do.”

A rebellious frown gathered on Geoffrey’s face. “I’m going to the
river,” he said; “I shall only stay a few minutes to see how the
‘Dancing Polly’ sails. Mother will never know!”

Rosie hesitated a minute, but when she saw Geoffrey running down
the drive without, her, it was too much, and off she went after him.

For a whole hour the children spent a most delightful time sailing
the “Dancing Polly,” but alas! the crew, which consisted of a wooden
doll, fell overboard, and in stretching over to rescue it Rosie lost her
balance and toppled into the river.

Geoffrey shrieked for help. “Rosie's drowning! Rosie's drowning !”
he cried, and in a moment someone came dashing down the bank,
there was a plunge, a moment of dreadful suspense, and then Rosie
was lying on the grass with Father standing over her. Yes, it was
Father, who was a captain in the Royal Navy, and who had come.
home from sea a whole day before he was expected.

“However did your Mother come to let you two mites go off to
the river by yourselves?” said Father on their way home.

Geoffrey hung his head for a moment, and then, like a brave little
man, he told his Father all the truth.

“Ah! Geoff, my boy,” said his Father, “you'll never make a sailor
if you can’t obey orders !”

And what did Mother say ?

Why, not one angry word, for no sooner did Geoffrey see her
than he burst into tears, and Mother put her loving arms round him
and whispered: “My darling, I know you won't disobey me again!”

And Geoffrey never did. L. L. Weedon.
TCASTLES IN THe AIR.



OTHER’S out, Mary!” said Nettie
from the corner of the sofa.

“Are you sure, Miss Nettie ?
She didn’t tell me she was
going out.”

“She told me to tell you,
Mary, but I quite forgot,” said
the little girl truthfully. “I was
playing at Kings and Queens,
and Fluff was a Prince. We
were just going in to a grand
feast when you opened the door.
I’m sorry I didn’t remember to
tell you, because now you've
_ had all the trouble of making tea
for nothing. But, oh! Mary, it
would make a lovely feast for
Prince Florizel.”

Nettie looked at Mary so
coaxingly that the good-hearted
girl couldn’t refuse her. Mary had a very soft corner in her heart
for Nettie. So she put the tray down on a little table, and told
Nettie that if she would promise to be very careful she might play
at being a grand lady and take tea in the drawing-room.

“Mind,” she said, “you mustn’t move the tray.”

As soon as Nettie was alone again, she began to build fresh
castles in the air. She was a Queen, and was giving a party ;
92 TWILIGHT TALES.

there were lords and ladies and ‘dukes and all sorts of grand people
sitting round the room. Fluff was Prince Florizel again, though I’m
sorry to say he did not behave very like a prince.

It was rather unfortunate that there was no one to hand the
feast round. “I'll pretend I’m a footman, in crimson and gold,”
said Nettie; “then when everyone is served I can be the Queen
again and drink up the tea.” So she jumped up and carried the tray
across the room towards the big armchair, where the King was supposed
to be sitting; but alas! Prince Florizel trotted along before her just
where she couldn’t see him, and Nettie tumbled over him.

Crash went the tray, and oh! what a smash there was. The tea
and the milk streamed all over the pretty carpet. In. an instant
the lords and ladies disappeared, so did Prince Florizel, and there
was no one left, except a frightened little girl and a naughty little
kitten.

“Oh! what will Mother say?” said poor Nettie.

And what Mother said was this— .

“Tf my little girl would only give up building so many castles
in the air, perhaps she would remember to be a little more obedient,
and would not get sent to bed quite so often.”

And later on a little white-robed figure, sitting up in her crib
all by herself, made up her mind that in future she really would
try and remember what people said to her; and of course, as she
really tried, she succeeded, and the last time I heard of her, she
had not been sent to bed for being naughty for a whole year.

L. L. Weedon.


cANAHAT COMES OF QUARRELLING.



HE dolls were all lying on the Nursery
floor, just where Ethel had left them. You know,
dolls are only fairies who have been naughty, and
are punished by being turned into dolls until they
are good again. Now, Ethel’s dolls happened to be
seven fairy sisters who had been turned into dolls
because they would quarrel so.

As they lay on the floor, the clock struck twelve,
and suddenly a soft glowing greeny light filled the

! untidy Nursery. The Queen of all the fairies was
there. She waved her wand, and all the dollies became fairies.

“Will you be good now?” said the Fairy Queen.

“Oh! yes,” said they, all together.

“Very well,” said the Queen; “I will give you leave to turn into
fairies for an hour every night, when the clock strikes twelve, and if
at the end of the week I find you have learned to live together
without quarrelling, you shall come back to Fairyland.”

So they thanked her, and she vanished.

And the first night the dollies all turned into fairies as the clock
struck twelve, and they were very happy and very kind and _ polite.
And so they were the second night—and the third too. But on the
fourth night, the eldest one—who was the best wax doll in the day-
time—said to the youngest—who, when she was not a fairy, was the
wooden doll—something unkind about “wooden-headed people.”

“Tm not stuffed with bran, at any rate,” said the youngest.

“You're not stuffed at all—you’re wooden all through,’ sneered
the other. ‘hen the other dolls all joined in the quarrel, some taking


94 : TWILIGHT TALES.

one side and some the other, and they only stopped being disagree-
able when the clock struck one, and they had to turn into dolls again.
Even then they all looked so savage that Ethel said next morning:
“Flow cross all the dolls do look!” Nurse said it was fancy, but it
wasn't. And the next night, directly they could speak, they began
to say disagreeable things, and so they did on the next.

And suddenly their wrangling was hushed—for the Queen stood
among them. What she said I leave you to guess—but Ethel’s dolls
have never spoken again, and I don’t believe they ever will.

So you see what comes of quarrelling. LZ. Nesbitt.
i
\ Ve
Ne Galan ? :
ee RAT PRINCESS.
ee:





CVE was once a Princess who was very beautiful,
, a but she was not very kind. She was always
Bes S - climbing trees in the Palace garden to take birds’

yo, yx nests, and putting walnut-shells on the feet of the
Palace Pussy, and all little living things were afraid
of her. Her page loved her, and she knew it,
but she was very unkind to him.

One day she threw a stone at a rat she saw
on the river's brink. “ Horrid thing!” she cried. She expected the
rat to run away, but instead, it turned round and looked at her
till the Princess shook in her golden shoes.

“Horrid, am 1?” said the rat, and the Princess nearly jumped
out of her royal skin, she was so startled. “Well, if Z am horrid,
you shall be horrid too.”

And the rat dived into the water. The Princess felt giddy and
THE RAT PRINCESS. 95

faint--something was happening to her. The next moment she
knew what it was. She was changed into a water-rat.
She ran and hid among the dock-leaves, weeping bitterly.
Now there was a hue and cry in the Palace, for the Princess
was lost, and nobody could find her.

SS
S

SS

SSS






—
SN \

\\

\

SS

.
NY
N

So the King, her father, issued a proclamation, promising that
anyone who could find the Princess should marry her.

And many Princes set out to search for her, but of course
they could not find her, for all the time she was hidden among
the dock-leaves.

One night the water-rat came out of the river.
96 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Well,” he said, “how do you like being a horrid thing?”

And the poor Princess cried, and begged him to let her be a
real Princess again.

“Tf I do, will you promise never to be unkind to animals
again ?” ;

“Never!” cried she; “how could 1? JZ know now,’ she addéd,
in a trembling voice; “someone threw a stone at me yesterday.”

And suddenly, in the twinkling of a tail, the Princess was
herself again. She caught up the water-rat and kissed it. “You
were quite right,’ she said; “I deserved -it all.” And the next
day she had a golden crown made and presented it to the water-rat.
He was very pleased, ‘but he does not wear it every day, so you're
not likely to see him in it. ,

And the first person the Princess met was her page, who had
been crying his heart out, because he wasn’t allowed to go and
look for her. “Ah!” he cried, “J’ve found you after all.’

The Princess caught his hands and held them.

“Forgive me!” she said, with swimming eyes.

Then -he caught her in his arms. “You love me at last!” he
cried, “and the King will let you marry me!”

And, as he was a King of his word, of course he did.

LE. Nesbit.


es ken eone
PON Ooo ere





who went away to the seaside,
' and shut up their house and sent

wt tlie
NGS,

2h a&Z
VA EY
5 ‘es GEG

«

% ie HERE were once some _ people

away all the servants, and then left

the poor flowers in their green-house
COm GCenO ns Ginist: The fairies were very sorry
for the poor pretty things.

“Can't we help them?” they said, and they
flew round and round the green-house, looking
at the flowers through the glass, till at last
they found a broken pane in the door. Then
the fairies each got a dew-drop, which was
. 2 \{[ _ about as much as they could carry, and flew in
AL (i a with it, but the poor flowers were so thirsty

that the dew-drops were of no use to them.

“Oh, dear!” the fairies said, “however can we help them?”

They talked and talked, but could think of no way. But the
most beautiful of the fairies, who was also the wisest, flew away.

“How unfeeling she is!” said the others.

Next day the flowers in the green-house drooped more and more,
and they were just murmuring “Water” almost with their last
breath, when the little boy from next door climbed over the wall.
He looked through the glass at the flowers, and then he opened
the green-house door and went in and watered them. And _ this



he did every day.
“TI wonder what made him think of it,’ said all the fairies.
ul
98 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Why, I did, of course,” said the wisest and most beautiful.
“While you were all chattering I went and sat on his pillow, and
whispered to him all about the poor flowers next door. He thought
it was a dream, but we and the flowers know better.”

So when the people of the house came back from the seaside
they found all their flowers alive and well, and this was certainly
very much more than they had any right to expect.

And the master of the house was so pleased with the kind
care the little boy next door had taken of the flowers that he
gave them all to him, and got some new ones for himself.

L. Nesbit.

aBys BiRTHDAY
c= present.

= EAR me, what a heavy load!” said Mother,
laughing. “One at a time, dearies; you're
too heavy for poor Nanny to drag!”

Gerald and Baby were having a lovely time
at the seaside; they paddled in the sea, built
castles in the sand, and went for rides in Nanny’s
little cart every day; in fact, they were the most regular customers
Tom had, and soon became excellent friends with him.

When business was slack, he told them wonderful tales of what
his father had done when he was a sailor, before he sailed
away in the “Morning Star,’ and left poor little Tom to take care
of Granny. “His ship was never heard of again,” said Tom, “and
if it hadn’t been for Nanny, Granny and I must have oore to the
workhouse.”





Out for a Drive.
100 TWILIGHT TALES.

All these tales the children told to Mother, whose kind heart
prompted her to think of a plan to help Tom and Granny, and
Nanny as well.

When the children left the sea and went home, they were
quite sad at the idea of parting from their friends for a whole
year; but Mother smiled and said that wonderful things did happen
sometimes, and perhaps they would see Tom sooner than they
thought. ,

A month later Baby’s birthday fell, and when she came down
to breakfast in the morning she was terribly disappointed to find
no parcels on the table waiting for her.

“Cheer up, Baby,” said Mother, laughing at her little daughter's
long face. “Father and I haven't forgotten you, but you must go
down to the Lodge to get your presents.”

Off started Gerald and Baby, wondering why the birthday
presents should be at the Lodge, for it had been empty a long time,
but before they got half way there they both gave a shout of joy and
began to run with all their might, and no wonder! For, coming towards
them, what should they see but Nanny, with brand-new harness on,
and dragging a brand-new cart. Tom was leading her, and Granny
stood smiling and curtseying at the door of the Lodge, which was no
longer empty.

And this was Mother’s and Father’s birthday present to their Baby!
Don’t you think it was a nice one? The children did, and so did Tom
and his Granny, who had come to live at the Lodge, Tom to be the
gardener’s boy and look after Nanny, who had a much more com-
fortable time as the children’s pet than ever she had had in her life
before. L.L. Weedon.
ain

Ba sr 8
ifs

eee



ODDLES was a greedy boy. If ever he had a cake
or an orange, he would go away into a corner
by himself to eat it, so that he might not have
to give any away. He was a very greedy boy.

One day he sat on the fence at the end of
his mother’s garden eating a slice of bread-and-

é butter, and an old crow flew down from a tree

close by and looked at the food longingly.

“T’m hungry,” said the crow, for Toddles lived in the land where
birds can talk. “Give me a few crumbs of your bread.”

But the greedy boy took no notice; he just went on eating the
bread-and-butter and never offered the bird a crumb. Then the hungry
crow turned upon him angrily, and pecked his bare legs until he
screamed with pain. Down the garden path ran Toddles, and the crow
ran after him. At each step the boy seemed to dwindle and grow


102 DWELAGHT VAIS Se

smaller, whilst the crow grew and grew, until he was larger than the
largest eagle. Then he madea peck at Toddles, caught him up in his
beak, and flew away with him, and put him into a cage that hung
from the topmost branch of the tallest tree. “There you shall stay,”
he said, “until you have learned to be a better boy.”

It was dreadfully uncomfortable in the cage, and Toddles cried and
screamed until he made himself quite ill, and the crow sat on the
branch beside him and teased him and laughed at him the whole
day long. When the next morning came, the bird gave him a piece of
bread and left him. He had just begun to eat it, when a little voice
beside him piped, “Give me a crumb!”

It was a little Jenny Wren, and she looked so pitifully at the boy
that he broke off a corner of his food and gave it to her. When the
crow came home at night, he was quite polite to Toddles, but when
he went away again in the morning he gave him a much smaller
piece of bread. Toddles could have eaten it up in no time, he was
so hungry, but just as he had commenced he heard a little dog barking
on the ground below. It was a thin, starved little creature, and Toddles,
whose heart was growing much softer, broke his morsel of bread in two,
and threw half to the dog. The next morning the little boy was very
hungry indeed, and the food that was given him was less than ever.
Just as he was going to eat it, he heard a child crying, and, peeping
between the bars of his cage, he saw a little hungry child. She had
had no food for days, she said, and Toddles was so sorry for her that
he dropped her the whole of his breakfast. Then the crow came
swooping back, opened the door of the cage, and taking the little fellow
in his beak, flew back with him to his mother’s garden, and dropped —
him on the fence where he had first found him.

“You have learnt your lesson, Toddles,” said he, “so there is no
need to punish you any more.” And Toddles had learnt a lesson, for
he was never greedy again. L. L. Weedon,


Fe a
1 \n
van GAILY-TINTED little flower once lived in
a 7 f- © the corner of a field. No other flowers
ee bo \4\ grew near, and she often felt sad and lonely.
* eC uy hy But one day a beautiful butterfly hovered over
her head and began to talk to her. Presently
Ae he alighted upon one of her leaves, and gazed admiringly
= into her sweet face. The flower felt very happy, and said:
“How good it is of you to stop here and talk to me!”

“JT must be going soon,” replied the butterfly. ‘How I wish that
you could fly away with me! You have no idea how delightful it is
to flit about in the air!”

“Jt must indeed be nice!” replied the little flower. “But I cannot
fly, for, as you see, I have no wings, and besides, my stalk holds me
fast to the ground. So I have to stay always in one place. I must
just make the best of it,’ added she, trying to be brave, although
her heart ached at the thought of parting with her w inged friend.

Then a kind little Fairy popped up out of the. grass, and said:
“T have been listening to your talk. Ifyou, fair flower, would indeed
like to oe away with your friend, I will give you a pair of wings
like mine.’

Then the Fairy ioral the flower with her wand, and she sprang
from her stalk, with two gauze-like wings to bear her up. She looked
now something like the butterfly, only even more beautiful. The two
friends flew away together over the fields, and the Fairy returned to
Fairyland, feeling very happy because she had been able to please
the little flower. E. Dyke.
Fre GRATEFUL PEDLAR.

CN

cn ~—.J HERE was once a poor old pedlar who sold ribbons
and brooches and tapes and needles; his hair was
long and his back was bent, and perhaps he did
look rather strange; but that was no reason why
the boys should have called himnames and thrown
stones at him as he went through the village. At
last a stone hit him on the forehead and he fell on
the dusty road, and the bad- boys ran away, afraid
of what they had done. But one boy named Jack
had seen the thing from a field some way off, and now he came running
up, and bathed the poor old man’s head and spoke kindly to him, and
when the pedlar was better he said: “You are a good boy and you
may have what you like out of my pack.”

Now, Jack did not like to take anything valuable out of a poor
man’s pack, so he looked at all the pretty things, and then he picked
out an old knife.

The pedlar laughed. “You have chosen the most valuable
thing I have,’ he said; “that knife will cut through iron or stone
as easily as through butter.”

“Oh! then,” said Jack hastily, “let me have these old spectacles.”

The pedlar laughed louder than ever.

“Those spectacles will make you see to any part of the world,
and see through stone or iron as easily as through glass,” he said ;
“there—take both!”

And putting the two into Jack’s hand he vanished—and he did
it quite easily, because he was a magician.


THE GRATEFUL PEDLAR. 105

So now Jack’s fortune was made; he could see where gold and
precious stones lay under the earth and he could cut away the rocks
that covered them as though they were butter.

So he was rewarded for his kind-heartedness.

_ But the greatest reward of all came to him when the Princess of
that land was carried off and hidden by an enchanter. And the King,
after vainly offering all sorts of other prizes, at last said that any man
who could find the Princess and set her free should marry her.



So Jack put on his spectacles and saw the Princess sitting crying
in a lonely tower. It was a year’s journey off, but he made the
journey, and wherever he was, he put on his spectacles again and
looked at the beautiful Princess, and that gave him courage.

At last he came to the tower, and with his magic knife he cut
through the iron door and set the Princess free, and with the same
knife he killed the wicked enchanter.

Then he took the Princess home in triumph and the grateful
pedlar came to the wedding-feast. £. Nesbit.
TDows Nort ING, .

H—, eon, OMMY would not learn his lessons. He wouldn’t do
1G his sums, he upset the ink over his geography book,
+ |, and smashed his slate. He tore a leaf out of his grammar
~ and made a paper boat of it. He ought to have been
punished, but he wasn’t, because his Mamma thought that
dear Tommy must be ill or he wouldn’t behave so badly;
so, thinking the fresh air would be good for him, she
asked him to pick her a bunch of buttercups out of the meadow, but
Tommy said he would rather not—he didn’t want to do anything
ever again.

Tommy was not a bad little boy generally, but sometimes the
idle fairy,-who is no bigger than a grain of mustard-seed, though very
strong, sat in his ear and whispered naughty things to him. He threw
all his lesson-books in a heap on the school-room floor, and went
out to the orchard, where he ate seven big apples one after the other,
and lay on his back looking up at the apple-trees, and trying to feel
glad that he had had his own way. Presently he sighed.

“What do you want?” said a voice, and Tommy saw a little
red-cheeked man in a green cap, swinging on one of the apple boughs
and looking at him.



“T only want to do nothing,’ whined Tommy; “it’s very hard
they won't let me.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” said the little man, “come with me,” and,
taking Tommy’s hand, he led him through a convenient little door
which opened in the trunk of the apple-tree. It led straight into
the most beautiful garden in the world.

“Now then,” said the little man, “do nothing as hard as you like.”
And he plumped Tommy down on a’ grassy bank.
DOING NOTHING. 107

Presently a troop of merry children came by with balls and hoops.
Tommy jumped up to catch a golden ball that rolled his way.

“Lie down, sir,” said the little man, for all the world as though
he had been a dog, Tommy thought; “you wanted to do nothing,
remember !”

“T meant no lessons,” said Tommy.







fi
, sx! lint i

ma ant

Ba yg — O-

“You didn’t say so,”. said the little man. “Besides, all those
children have done their lessons, or they would not be allowed to
stay here.” |

Some more children came by riding on white ponies. One pony
had no rider. Tommy started up. It would be lovely to ride that
long-tailed pretty little pony.
108 TWILIGHT TALES.

“Lie down, sit,” said the apple-man crossly; “you came here to
do nothing and I’m going to see that you do it.”

“T am doing something anyhow,’ said Tommy suddenly. nel
sitting down.”

“All right,” said the apple-man; “we'll soon settle that ;’ and a
strong hook suddenly caught Tommy by the back of his clothes and
hung him up in the air. “Now you are not doing anything, anyway,”
said the little man; “the hook is doing the work.”

Imagine being hung up by a hook just out of reach of everything,
while long processions of little green men came and offered you all
the things you wanted most in the world—cricket-bats and ferrets, paint-
boxes and hard-bake, guinea-pigs, catapults, and white mice, marbles,
buns, and sheaves of letters with valuable foreign stamps on them.
Tommy cried with rage, but the little apple-man only laughed, and
kept saying: “How do you like doing nothing, eh!—jolly, isn’t it?”

Then he saw his Mother coming along the path, and to his horror
he saw that a leopard was slinking after her. He called aloud, but
she did not hear.

“Oh, let me go and drive the leopard away,” he cried to the little
green man; “it will eat my Mammy—I know it will. Oh, Mammy, ,
Mammy!” but she did not hear, and the little man said: “Oh,
nonsense! if you haven’t got the pluck to master a simple addition
sum, you can’t master a leopard, you know”; but Tommy struggled
so hard that the hook gave way and he fell with a bounce on the
orchard grass. He rushed off to find his Mother. To his delight she
was safe, and there was no leopard about in the house or garden.

He threw his arms round her neck. “Mammy,” he said, “I do
love you so. I'll learn everything and do everything you tell me.”

“Ah!” thought his Mother, “the fresh air has done him good.”

But it was not the fresh air; it was the little apple-man.

LY. Nesbit.
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KO oR CATs Fara.
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HIS is a true story, but you needn't believe it unless
5 you like. It happened to a cat I know, who has never
ROS said anything untrue in her life. One day when
eo this cat had gone down to the sea to bathe, she was
standing on the steps of her bathing-machine looking
at the sea and wondering whether it would be cold—
as I daresay you have often done—when she saw



something golden and gleaming in ‘the water. She thought it was a
fish, and dived into the water at once. But it was no fish; it was a
yellow sea-cat, with fins and a fish’s tail—a sort of cat-mermaid.

The cat who told me the story says that the sea-cat took her
by. the paw and led her down into the deep parts of the sea and
showed her wonderful things. Everything in the sea-cat’s world is
just the opposite of what it is here. Whatever is wet here—milk, for
instance—is dry down there; and whatever is dry here—such as a
cat's bed—is wet there.

But I never allow my friend the cat to talk much of this adven-
ture. Not because I don’t believe her; but because I think it may
make her proud if she talks too long about the wonderful things she
saw there. Anyhow, I don’t see how you can doubt a cat’s word.
A cat hasn’t any words, do you say? No—that’s just it. £. Mesbit.

Cor.
NIN Y la)
cerns goes
VF, a
pans Nee aa
aN A a


Fhe Uninvited Guest.




Die Wf full
ae ts FFIE was quite in distress about the

a) yaa spare room in her dolls’-house, because
yo OG Keouuy ~=6 she had no “visitor doll.’

All the other rooms were occupied,



for there were two smart maids in the
kitchen who were beginning to cook the
dinner; then in the dining-room there
was a “mamma” sitting on the blue
sofa, gazing at the bowl of gold-fish.
In the nursery, the three children were
already put to bed, and the poor, tired
nurse rested by the bright coal-scuttle on the floor. In the drawing-
room, two gay dolls in ball-dresses sat by the piano; but there was
no one for the spare room!

“Tt seems a great pity,” said Mamma, “because you put all the
nicest things in this room, Effie—the wax candles, the pretty box
of chocolates, the lace curtains to the bed, and the dumb-bells; we
must try and think of someone to come and stay here.”

“Mamma, do you think Rosie would lend me one of her dolls?”
-suggested Effie.

“Supposing you write and ask her,’ said Mamma.

Effie seemed to think this a good idea, but then she would have to
wait a few days, because her friend was away, staying at a farmhouse.

“Shall we put the china baby in,’ said Mamma, “or is he quite
one of the family?”

“Oh, Mummy, he’s the youngest child of all!” replied Effie,
shaking her head.
THE UNINVITED GUEST. Til

“T am afraid he is too much of a baby,” said Mamma, looking
into the spare room, “and he might get into the shower-bath or oben
the door of the bird-cage—perhaps it would be unsafe.”

Effie nodded.

“We will write to Rosie, then,” said Mamma encouragingly.

That night, when Effie was fast asleep, a little grey mouse peeped






if le ly

i

(
o“ a





through a crack in the nursery floor, and seeing that the room was
empty, she hurried into every corner to find some chance crumb of
cake or bread, but alas for her! the room had been too carefully
swept, so the hungry little mouse could find nothing for her supper.

Suddenly, she saw the dolls’-house, so she squeezed through the
glass door, which Effie had not quite shut, and very soon found her
way into the spare room.
igIe2 TWILIGHT TALES.

“The very thing!” cried she to herself, whisking her tail with joy.
“Here is a nice little bed to sleep in, and a wax candle on the
dressing-table for supper! How lucky I am! this is indeed a nice
house to visit!”

The next morning, Effie ran to her dolls’-house and gave a little
scream. “Mummy, J/ook! there’s been a mouse in the spare room!
It’s eaten two of the candles—look !”

“That is not quite the guest you hoped for, is it, Effie?” said
Mamma. :

“No, but do you think it will come again to-night? Oh! I
should like to see it in the morning!” said Effie.

Limily Bennett.







aoe










we KNE Vitrle Pn “Drop.

NCE upon a time there was a little drop of ink

that lived at the bottom of a small earthenware
inkpot, and a very peaceful and happy home he
found it. It was such a long time since he was
first put into the bottle that he had almost
forgotten what had happened to him before. Sometimes
he had vague remembrances of a cool shady wood and
wide-spreading oak-trees, but the bottle told him that
this was all nonsense, that fe could never have had anything to do
with such things.

But the bottle was wrong for all that; the little drop of ink had
come from an oak-tree, though it is true it had been mixed with all
sorts of other things.

One day there was an ink-quake in the earthenware bottle. The
ink-drops were terribly upset and couldn't think what was happening.
It was nothing very dreadful after all; the bottle had been sold to an
old woman, who carried it home and then caused a still worse ink-
quake by drawing the cork.

After that she began to write a letter. Time after time she dipped
the pen in the ink and at length it gathered the little talkative drop
on its point. But as the old woman wrote, she was crying bitterly, and
her hand trembled so that the little ink-drop was shaken upon the
paper and formed a great black blot. There were other blots in
plenty, but they were not black ones. The old woman folded the
poor blistered little letter, and put it in an envelope, posted it, fad
then the ink-drop’s travels began in earnest.



114 TWILIGHT TALES.

I never knew ow far it did go, but when at length the envelope
was opened again and the ink-drop saw the light, there were a pair
of bright blue eyes gazing upon it and a boyish voice was saying:
“Poor old Granny, how she misses me!” Then a bugle. sounded, and
the drummer boy kissed the letter and placed it in the breast pocket
of his tunic, and went forth to do his duty.

When the night fell, the golden stars shone pityingly down upon
the battlefield, and the rays of the silvery moon rested lovingly upon
the drummer boy’s still, white face.

“Poor lad, poor lad!” said the sergeant sadly. ‘He'll never
sound the advance again.”

He thought the brave boy’s heart was stilled for ever, but the
ink-drop knew better. It lay in the tunic pocket and felt each feeble
throb of the heart that lay below. How it feared lest the sergeant
should pass by and leave the boy to die, and when he slipped his
hand inside the scarlet tunic and felt the throbs too, the ink-blot could
have cried aloud for joy.

So the drummer boy was taken to the hospital, but even then
they thought that he would pass away from them, until one day the
nurse placed the old woman’s letter in the little thin hand to see if
it would rouse him. And it did. The sight of the blot the poor old
shaking hand had let fall reminded him of Granny and of home. From
that day until the invalid went home, the ink-drop lay beneath the
boy’s pillow or rested on his heart. And when at length the old
woman's loving arms clasped her darling once again, and she heard how
her poor stained letter had travelled all across the world and back
again, she kissed it too, and placed it reverently between her Bible
leaves, and there the ink-drop rests until this day.

L. L. Weedon.

ARON dear, do you know that to-morrow is my birth-
day?” said Violet. “What are you going to give
me, eh?”

Baron wagged his tail, but he didn’t say anything,
because, of course, birthday presents ought to be kept
a secret until the right day.

Every year when Baron’s birthday came round

Violet gave him a present—sometimes it was a new collar, sometimes

it was only a bone, and once it was a fine new kennel—and every year

Baron gave Violet a present: at least, as each birthday morning came

round there was always a parcel on the breakfast-table with a label

on it: “With love from Baron.”

Violet found that it was not the least good questioning her doggie,
for he had evidently determined to keep the secret; so she wisely
made up her mind to wait patiently until the next day, when she
would know all about it.



She and Baron then went off for a romp together in the garden,
and finé fun they had. Presently Nurse called ‘the little girl in to her
dinner, but. before she went, she put her arms round the good dog’s
neck and gave him a hug, telling him that he was the dearest old
fellow in the world.

When Violet came downstairs the next day, she found her presents
waiting for her, just as she had expected. There was a lovely baby
doll from Mother, and a beautiful new doll’s “ pram” from Father, but
Baron’s present was the best of all: it was a pretty white dove, in a
large wooden cage.

“Oh! Mother,” cried Violet, “it was good of you! Oh! what a
little darling.”

I
116 TH MVIUC MG ialIC: ICAULI SS.

“But it’s Baron’s present,” said Mother, laughing; “look, he is
waiting to be thanked.”

Violet laid her soft head against the dog’s, and patted him, but
Baron didn’t seem very happy.

The truth of the matter was that he was jealous, because, so far,
he had been Violet’s only pet.

He walked downstairs in a very stately manner and went into his
kennel, where he would have stayed all day had not Violet gone down
to him and coaxed him out. Even then he looked at her with
reproachful eyes, as though reminding her of what she had said the
day before.

Still, when he found that, however fareh his little mistress loved
the dove, she loved him none the less, he began, like a sensible fellow,
to get over his ill-temper, and grew quite fond of the pretty white
bird himself.

When Violet had had her dove about six months, to her great
grief it was lost. The door of the cage had been left open, as well
as the window, and it flew away. Oh! how the little girl cried.
Baron seemed quite to understand what was wrong, but instead of
staying to comfort his little mistress he, too, disappeared, and did not
come back for some time. But when he did he brought Pearl, as the
dove was called, with him. a

She had evidently hurt her wing and fallen to the ground, and
Baron had found her and carried her home in his mouth, but so Decney,
that he had not hurt her in the least.

Wasn't he a kind old dog?

After that Pearl never flew away again, and grew so tame that
she would perch on Violet’s hand or shoulder, and come to her when

she called.
L. L. Wee don,


The Three Friends.
The, Peoun Gut BuTTor®

HE gilt button shone and sparkled
on Tommy’s coat and was ab-

surdly proud of himself. Tommy

string and a packing-needle, one
morning when his Mother was too
busy with the baby to attend to
him. He went to school with the
little boy and listened with glistening
contempt and dignity to all the
master had to say. He had a very
small opinion of the master, for he
hadn't a gilt button upon his coat,
Ba and he couldn’t understand why
= «= Tommy’s heart went pit-a-pit at such
2 a rate when the schoolmaster asked
him a question. The rest of the
boys rather made fun of Tommy’s
button ; but then, of course, that was jealousy on their part. They would
have liked one well enough themselves; at least, so the button thought.
At night, when his chubby little master was fast asleep, with the
old coat folded up tidily on a chair beside the bed, the foolish button
began to boast and brag about his grandeur, and this didn’t quite please
the other buttons. They had lived on Tommy’s coat much longer
than he, and they didn’t see why he should give himself such airs.
They were quite ready to be friendly and kind, but they did not want
to be looked down upon, and so in a very little time they were all
quarrelling.

} had sewn him there with a piece’ of


THE PROUD GILT BUTTON. 119g

Presently Tommy’s Mother stooped over the child’s bed and kissed
him. She was very fond of her boy, and with good reason too, for
he was always bright and cheery, always helpful and loving, and only
the poor overworked woman knew what the little lad was to her. As
she turned from the bed the glitter of the gilt button on the worn
old coat caught her eye and. she smiled at the sight of Tommy’s
tailoring.

“Poor little lad,” she sighed; “it’s a shame to let him go so
shabby,’ and she carried the coat downstairs and began to mend it
neatly.

Now, the very first thing she did was to cut the gilt button off
the coat and put a sober black one in his place, and it happened that
she let the gilt button fall, and he rolled away under the hearth and
lay all night long amongst the dust and ashes.

In the morning little Tommy felt quite grand in his tidy coat,
though certainly he had a pang when he found his gilt button had gone.
He went downstairs, and, finding his Mother had overslept herself,
set to work to clean the hearth and light the fire, and very pleased
he-was when he saw his old friend again amongst the ashes. He
slipped him into his trousers pocket, and there the button lived for
many a long day. Tommy grew to really love him, and wouldn't
have parted with him for anything. When rich boys jingled the pennies
in their pockets, Tommy shook up the gilt button against a piece of
slate-pencil, and it sounded almost as well.

And what did the gilt button think about it? He diked it; yes,
he really did—at least, as soon as he got used to the dark depths of
the trousers pocket. He found out, don’t you see, that Tommy loved
him, and everyone knows, the wide world over, that it is better, yes,
a thousand times better, to be loved than to be admired.

; L. L. Weedon.






xml record header identifier oai:www.uflib.ufl.edu.ufdc:UF0008886400001datestamp 2008-11-13setSpec [UFDC_OAI_SET]metadata oai_dc:dc xmlns:oai_dc http:www.openarchives.orgOAI2.0oai_dc xmlns:dc http:purl.orgdcelements1.1 xmlns:xsi http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance xsi:schemaLocation http:www.openarchives.orgOAI2.0oai_dc.xsd dc:title Tales told in the twilightdc:creator Molesworth, Olive ( Author )Nesbit, E ( Edith ), 1858-1924 ( Author )Weedon, L. L ( Lucy L ) ( Author )Bennett, Emily ( Author )Molesworth, 1839-1921 ( Author )Cecil, Gwendolen ( Author of introduction )Nister, Ernest ( Publisher, Printer )dc:subject Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )Animals -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )Children's stories ( lcsh )Children's stories -- 1899 ( lcsh )Hand-colored illustrations -- 1899 ( local )dc:description b Statement of Responsibility by Olive Molesworth, E. Nesbit, L.L. Weedon, Emily Bennett, Mrs. Molesworth ; with an introduction by Lady Gwendolen Cecil.Date of publication from inscription.Frontispiece printed in colors."872"--t.p.Baldwin Library copy illustrations are hand-colored: probably by young owner.dc:publisher Ernest NisterE.P. Dutton & Co.Ernest Nister ;dc:date 1899?dc:type Bookdc:format 119, 1 p. : ill. (some col.) ; 22 cm.dc:identifier http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/ufdc/?b=UF00088864&v=00001002238306 (ALEPH)265143042 (OCLC)ALH8803 (NOTIS)dc:source University of Floridadc:language English