When the spotted cat first found the nest, there was nothing in it, for it was only just finished. So she said, “I will wait!” for she was a patient cat, and the summer was before her. She waited a week, and then she climbed up again to the top of the tree, and peeped into the nest. There lay two lovely blue eggs, smooth and shining.

The spotted cat said, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait.” So she waited; and while she was waiting, she caught mice and rats, and washed herself and slept, and did all that a spotted cat should do to pass the time away.

When another week had passed, she climbed the tree again and peeped into the nest. This time there were five eggs. But the spotted cat said again, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait a little longer!”

So she waited a little longer and then went up again to look. Ah! there were five tiny birds, with big eyes and long necks, and yellow beaks wide open. Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch, and licked her nose and purred, for she was very happy. “It is worth while to be patient!” she said.

But when she looked again at the young birds, to see which one she should take first, she saw that they were very thin, – oh, very, very thin they were! The spotted cat had never seen anything so thin in her life.

“Now,” she said to herself, “if I were to wait only a few days longer, they would grow fat. Thin birds may be good, but fat birds are much better. I will wait!”

So she waited; and she watched the father-bird bringing worms all day long to the nest, and said, “Aha! they must be fattening fast! they will soon be as fat as I wish them to be. Aha! what a good thing it is to be patient.”

At last, one day she thought, “Surely, now they must be fat enough! I will not wait another day. Aha! how good they will be!”

So she climbed up the tree, licking her chops all the way and thinking of the fat young birds. And when she reached the top and looked into the nest, it was empty!!

Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch and spoke thus, “Well, of all the horrid, mean, ungrateful creatures I ever saw, those birds are the horridest, and the meanest, and the most ungrateful! Mi-a-u-ow!!!!”

ALICE’S SUPPER

Far down in the meadow the wheat grows green,
And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;
And this is the song that I hear them sing,
While cheery and loud their voices ring:
“’Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
And it is for Alice’s supper, ho! ho!”

Far down in the valley the old mill stands,
And the miller is rubbing his dusty white hands;
And these are the words of the miller’s lay,
As he watches the millstones a-grinding away:
“’Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
And it is for Alice’s supper, hi! hi!”

Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And Maggie is kneading the soft white dough,
And this is the song that she’s singing to-day,
While merry and busy she’s working away:
“’Tis the finest dough, by near or by far,
And it is for Alice’s supper, ha! ha!”

And now to the nursery comes Nannie at last,
And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
’Tis a plate full of something all yellow and white,
And she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:
“’Tis the best bread-and-butter I ever did see!
And it is for Alice’s supper, he! he!”

THE QUACKY DUCK

The Quacky Duck stood on the bank of the stream. And the frogs came and sat on stones and insulted him. Now the words which the frogs used were these, —

“Ya! ha! he hasn’t any hind-legs!
Ya! ha! he hasn’t any fore-legs!
Oh! what horrid luck
To be a Quacky Duck!”

These were not pleasant words. And when the Quacky Duck heard them, he considered within himself whether it would not be best for him to eat the frogs.

“Two good things would come of it,” he said. “I should have a savoury meal, and their remarks would no longer be audible.”

So he fell upon the frogs, and they fled before him. And one jumped into the water, and one jumped on the land, and another jumped into the reeds; for such is their manner. But one of them, being in fear, saw not clearly the way he should go, and jumped even upon the back of the Quacky Duck. Now, this displeased the Quacky Duck, and he said, “If you will remove yourself from my person, we will speak further of this.”

So the frog, being also willing, strove to remove himself, and the result was that they two, being on the edge of the bank, fell into the water. Then the frog departed swiftly, saying, “Solitude is best for meditation.”

But the Quacky Duck, having hit his head against a stone, sank to the bottom of the pond, where he found himself in the frogs’ kitchen. And there he spied a fish, which the frogs had caught for their dinner, intending to share it in a brotherly manner, for it was a savoury fish. When the Quacky Duck saw it, he was glad; and he said, “Fish is better than frog” (for he was an English duck)! And, taking the fish, he swam with speed to the shore.

Now the frogs lamented when they saw him go, for they said, “He has our savoury fish!” And they wept, and reviled the Quacky Duck.

But he said, “Be comforted! for if I had not found the fish, I should assuredly have eaten you. Therefore, say now, which is the better for you?” And he ate the fish, and departed joyful.

AT THE LITTLE BOY’S HOME

It was a very hot day, and the little boy was lying on his stomach under the big linden tree, reading the “Scottish Chiefs.”

“Little Boy,” said his mother, “will you please go out in the garden and bring me a head of lettuce?”

“Oh, I – can’t!” said the little boy. “I’m – too —hot!”

The little boy’s father happened to be close by, weeding the geranium bed; and when he heard this, he lifted the little boy gently by his waistband, and dipped him in the great tub of water that stood ready for watering the plants.

“There, my son!” said the father. “Now you are cool enough to go and get the lettuce; but remember next time that it will be easier to go at once when you are told, as then you will not have to change your clothes.”

The little boy went drip, drip, dripping out into the garden and brought the lettuce; then he went drip, drip, dripping into the house and changed his clothes; but he said never a word, for he knew there was nothing to say.

That is the way they do things where the little boy lives. Would you like to live there? Perhaps not; yet he is a happy little boy, and he is learning the truth of the old saying, —

“Come when you’re called, do as you’re bid,
Shut the door after you, and you’ll never be chid.”

NEW YEAR

The little sweet Child tied on her hood, and put on her warm cloak and mittens. “I am going to the wood,” she said, “to tell the creatures all about it. They cannot understand about Christmas, mamma says, and of course she knows, but I do think they ought to know about New Year!”

Out in the wood the snow lay light and powdery on the branches, but under foot it made a firm, smooth floor, over which the Child could walk lightly without sinking in. She saw other footprints beside her own, tiny bird-tracks, little hopping marks, which showed where a rabbit had taken his way, traces of mice and squirrels and other little wild-wood beasts.

The child stood under a great hemlock-tree, and looked up toward the clear blue sky, which shone far away beyond the dark tree-tops. She spread her hands abroad and called, “Happy New Year! Happy New Year to everybody in the wood, and all over the world!”

A rustling was heard in the hemlock branches, and a striped squirrel peeped down at her. “What do you mean by that, little Child?” he asked. And then from all around came other squirrels, came little field-mice, and hares swiftly leaping, and all the winter birds, titmouse and snow-bird, and many another; and they all wanted to know what the Child meant by her greeting, for they had never heard the words before.

“It means that God is giving us another year!” said the Child. “Four more seasons, each lovelier than the last, just as it was last year. Flowers will bud, and then they will blossom, and then the fruit will hang all red and golden on the branches, for birds and men and little children to eat.” “And squirrels, too!” cried the chipmunk, eagerly.

“Of course!” said the Child. “Squirrels, too, and every creature that lives in the good green wood. And this is not all! We can do over again the things that we tried to do last year, and perhaps failed in doing. We have another chance to be good and kind, to do little loving things that help, and to cure ourselves of doing naughty things. Our hearts can have lovely new seasons, like the flowers and trees and all the sweet things that grow and bear leaves and fruit. I thought I would come and tell you all this, because sometimes one does not think of things till one hears them from another’s lips. Are you glad I came? If you are glad, say Happy New Year! each in his own way! I say it to you all now in my way. Happy New Year! Happy New Year!”

Such a noise as broke out then had never been heard in the wood since the oldest hemlock was a baby, and that was a long time ago. Chirping, twittering, squeaking, chattering! The wood-doves lit on the Child’s shoulder and cooed in her ear, and she knew just what they said. The squirrels made a long speech, and meant every word of it, which is more than people always do; the field-mouse said that she was going to turn over a new leaf, the very biggest cabbage-leaf she could find; while the titmouse invited the whole company to dine with him, a thing he had never done in his life before.

When the Child turned to leave the wood, the joyful chorus followed her, and she went, smiling, home and told her mother all about it. “And, mother,” she said, “I should not be surprised if they had got a little bit of Christmas, after all, along with their New Year!”

JACKY FROST

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost,
Came in the night;
Left the meadows that he crossed
All gleaming white.
Painted with his silver brush
Every window-pane;
Kissed the leaves and made them blush,
Blush and blush again.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost,
Crept around the house,
Sly as a silver fox,
Still as a mouse.
Out little Jenny came,
Blushing like a rose;
Up jumped Jacky Frost,
And pinched her little nose.

THE CAKE

Once a Cake would go seek his fortune in the world, and he took his leave of the Pan he was baked in.

“I know my destiny,” said the Cake. “I must be eaten, since to that end I was made; but I am a good cake, if I say it who should not, and I would fain choose the persons I am to benefit.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes to you!” said the Pan.

“But imagination is hardly your strong point!” said the Cake.

“Huh!” said the Pan.

The Cake went on his way, and soon he passed by a cottage door where sat a woman spinning, and her ten children playing about her.

“Oh!” said the woman, “what a beautiful cake!” and she put out her hand to take him.

“Be so good as to wait a moment!” said the Cake. “Will you kindly tell me what you would do with me if I should yield myself up to you?”

“I shall break you into ten pieces,” said the woman, “and give one to each of my ten children. So you will give ten pleasures, and that is a good thing.”

“Oh, that would be very nice, I am sure,” said the Cake; “but if you will excuse me for mentioning it, your children seem rather dirty, especially their hands, and I confess I should like to keep my frosting unsullied, so I think I will go a little further.”

“As you will!” said the woman. “After all, the brown loaf is better for the children.”

So the Cake went further, and met a fair child, richly dressed, with coral lips and eyes like sunlit water. When the child saw the Cake, he said like the woman, “Oh, what a beautiful Cake!” and put out his hand to take it.

“I am sure I should be most happy!” said the Cake. “And you will not take it amiss, I am confident, if I ask with whom you will share me.”

“I shall not share you with any one!” said the child. “I shall eat you myself, every crumb. What do you take me for?”

“Good gracious!” cried the Cake. “This will never do. Consider my size, – and yours! You would be very ill!”

“I don’t care!” said the child. “I’d rather be ill than give any away.” And he fixed greedy eyes on the Cake, and stretched forth his hand again.

“This is really terrible!” cried the Cake. “What is one’s frosting to this? I will go back to the woman with the ten children.”

He turned and ran back, leaving the child screaming with rage and disappointed greed. But as he ran, a hungry Puppy met him, and swallowed him at a gulp, and went on licking his chops and wagging his tail.

“Huh!” said the Pan.

“OH, DEAR!”

Chimborazo was a very unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and he said, “Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!” He said it till everybody was tired of hearing it.

“Chimborazo,” his mother would say, “please don’t say, ‘Oh, dear!’ any more. It is very annoying. Say something else.”

“Oh, dear!” the boy would answer, “I can’t! I don’t know anything else to say. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!! oh, DEAR!!!”

One day his mother could not bear it any longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother, and told her all about it.

“Humph!” said the fairy godmother. “I will see to it. Send the boy to me!”

So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging his head as usual. When he saw his fairy godmother, he said, “Oh, dear!” for he was rather afraid of her.

“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the godmother sharply; and she put on her spectacles and looked at him. “Do you know what a bell-punch is?”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo. “No, ma’am, I don’t!”

“Well,” said the godmother, “I am going to give you one.”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t want one.”

“Probably not,” replied she, “but that doesn’t make much difference. You have it now, in your jacket pocket.”

Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a queer-looking instrument of shining metal. “Oh, dear!” he said.

“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the fairy godmother. “Now,” she continued, “listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going to put you on an allowance of ‘Oh, dears.’ This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it will ring whenever you say ‘Oh, dear!’ How many times do you generally say it in the course of the day?”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t know. Oh, dear!”

“Ting! ting!” the bell-punch rang twice sharply; and looking at it in dismay, he saw two little round holes punched in a long slip of pasteboard which was fastened to the instrument.

“Exactly!” said the fairy. “That is the way it works, and a very pretty way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to make you a very liberal allowance. You may say ‘Oh, dear!’ forty-five times a day. There’s liberality for you!”

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, “I – ”

“Ting!” said the bell-punch.

“You see!” observed the fairy. “Nothing could be prettier. You have now had three of this day’s allowance. It is still some hours before noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed the allowance – ” Here she paused, and glowered through her spectacles in a very dreadful manner.

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo. “What will happen then?”

“You will see!” said the fairy godmother, with a nod. “Something will happen, you may be very sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!” And away she flew out of the window.

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, bursting into tears. “I don’t want it! I won’t have it! Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, DEAR!!!”

“Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-ting!” said the bell-punch; and now there were ten round holes in the strip of pasteboard. Chimborazo was now really frightened. He was silent for some time; and when his mother called him to his lessons he tried very hard not to say the dangerous words. But the habit was so strong that he said them unconsciously. By dinnertime there were twenty-five holes in the cardboard strip; by tea-time there were forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was afraid to open his lips, for whenever he did the words would slip out in spite of him.

“Well, Chimbo,” said his father after tea, “I hear you have had a visit from your fairy godmother. What did she say to you, eh?”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “she said – oh, dear! I’ve said it again!”

“She said, ‘Oh, dear! I’ve said it again!’” repeated his father. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, dear! I didn’t mean that,” cried Chimborazo hastily; and again the inexorable bell rang, and he knew that another hole was punched in the fatal cardboard. He pressed his lips firmly together, and did not open them again except to say “Good-night,” until he was safe in his own room. Then he hastily drew the hated bell-punch from his pocket, and counted the holes in the strip of cardboard; there were forty-three! “Oh, dear!” cried the boy, forgetting himself again in his alarm, “only two more! Oh, dear! oh, DEAR! I’ve done it again! oh – ” “Ting! ting!” went the bell-punch; and the cardboard was punched to the end. “Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, now beside himself with terror. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!! what will become of me?”

A strange whirring noise was heard, then a loud clang; and the next moment the bell-punch, as if it were alive, flew out of his hand, out of the window, and was gone!

Chimborazo stood breathless with terror for a few minutes, momentarily expecting that the roof would fall in on his head, or the floor blow up under his feet, or some appalling catastrophe of some kind follow; but nothing followed. Everything was quiet, and there seemed to be nothing to do but go to bed; and so to bed he went, and slept, only to dream that he was shot through the head with a bell-punch, and died saying, “Oh, dear!”

The next morning, when Chimborazo came downstairs, his father said, “My boy, I am going to drive over to your grandfather’s farm this morning; would you like to go with me?”

A drive to the farm was one of the greatest pleasures Chimborazo had, so he answered promptly, “Oh, dear!”

“Oh, very well!” said his father, looking much surprised. “You need not go, my son, if you do not want to. I will take Robert instead.”

Poor Chimborazo! He had opened his lips to say, “Thank you, papa. I should like to go very much!” and, instead of these words, out had popped, in his most doleful tone, the now hated “Oh, dear!” He sat amazed; but was roused by his mother’s calling him to breakfast.

“Come, Chimbo,” she said. “Here are sausages and scrambled eggs: and you are very fond of both of them. Which will you have?”

Chimborazo hastened to say, “Sausages, please, mamma,” – that is, he hastened to try to say it; but all his mother heard was, “Oh, dear!”

His father looked much displeased. “Give the boy some bread and water, wife,” he said sternly. “If he cannot answer properly, he must be taught. I have had enough of this ‘oh, dear!’ business.”

Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly enough now what his punishment was to be; and the thought of it made him tremble. He tried to ask for some more bread, but only brought out his “Oh, dear!” in such a lamentable tone that his father ordered him to leave the room. He went out into the garden, and there he met John the gardener, carrying a basket of rosy apples. Oh! how good they looked!

“I am bringing some of the finest apples up to the house, little master,” said John. “Will you have one to put in your pocket?”

“Oh, dear!” was all the poor boy could say, though he wanted an apple, oh, so much! And when John heard that he put the apple back in his basket, muttering something about ungrateful monkeys.

Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the whole history of that miserable day, – a miserable day it was from beginning to end. He fared no better at dinner than at breakfast; for at the second “Oh, dear!” his father sent him up to his room, “to stay there until he knew how to take what was given him, and be thankful for it.” He knew well enough by this time; but he could not tell his father so. He went to his room, and sat looking out of the window, a hungry and miserable boy.

In the afternoon his cousin Will came up to see him. “Why, Chimbo!” he cried. “Why do you sit moping here in the house, when all the boys are out? Come and play marbles with me on the piazza. Ned and Harry are out there waiting for you. Come on!”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo.

“What’s the matter?” asked Will. “Haven’t you any marbles? Never mind. I’ll give you half of mine, if you like. Come!”

“Oh, DEAR!” said Chimborazo.

“Well,” said Will, “if that’s all you have to say when I offer you marbles, I’ll keep them myself. I suppose you expected me to give you all of them, did you? I never saw such a fellow!” and off he went in a huff.

…

“Well, Chimborazo,” said the fairy godmother, “what do you think of ‘Oh, dear!’ now?”

Chimborazo looked at her beseechingly, but said nothing.

“Finding that forty-five times was not enough for you yesterday, I thought I would let you have all you wanted to-day, you see,” said the fairy wickedly.