Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building Part 55

Dolly joined rather shamefacedly in the general smile, as she thanked Florence, whose writing she had recognized. She was very apt to postpone her work until the last minute, and then rush through it as fast as possible; her compositions suffered from the many careless mistakes that she was always in too much of a hurry to correct, while her drawings belonged to what Jim called the "slap-dash school."

"We shall know by the amount of rubber left at the end of the term whether you have taken my valuable advice," said Florence. "What's in that other package, Baby? I know it is Anita's by the extreme elegance of its appearance."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'MANY HAPPY RETURNS OF THE DAY, SMALL SISTER,' SAID ANITA."]

Dorothea opened an oblong package tied with green ribbon and found a set of blotters fastened to a dark green suede cover ornamented with an openwork design of four-leaf clovers, and a pen-wiper to match. On top lay a slip of paper on which was written in Anita's pretty hand:

Wishing "Our Youngest" good luck and a happy school year.

"I'm not good at verses, so you'll have to be content with plain prose,"

said Anita, and Dorothea a.s.sured her that she was quite satisfied.

"Half past eight, Dolly," said her mother when breakfast was over. "It is time you started."

"Oh, not yet, mother," said Dorothea the Dawdler. "It only takes me fifteen minutes."

"Now, see here," said Jim; "what do you suppose stirring young business-men like your father and brother are lingering until the nine o'clock train for, unless it is to see you off for school? We want to give you as good a send-off as possible, for you're going to be absent four whole hours, but we can't,--unless you do your part and begin to go pretty soon. I don't believe you've got all your books together, as it is."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'LEND ME YOUR PENCILS, WON'T YOU, JIM?' SAID DOROTHEA."]

"Yes, I have," answered Dorothea triumphantly. "They are all on the hall table, for I put them there last night. Oh, gracious!" she exclaimed blankly: "I forgot to see whether I had any pencils! I don't believe I have one! Jim, lend me yours, won't you? Just for to-day."

"Lend you my most cherished possession? Never!" said Jim, placing his hand dramatically over his breast pocket.

"Then, Daddy, won't you please lend me yours?"

"Trot along, trot along!" said her father; and Dorothea, not knowing quite what to make of having her demands thus ignored, put on her big sailor hat and started to gather up her books. On top of the pile was a slender inlaid box under a card bearing the words, "For Dolly, from Father." Pushing back the sliding cover, Dorothea saw that the box contained a row of pencils, all beautifully sharpened, a dozen pens, and a slim gunmetal penholder.

"Oh!" she squealed with delight. "So that's why you wouldn't lend me any pencils!" and gave her father a hug.

"Hurry up, now," said Jim. "Don't forget we've got to see ourselves off after we've seen you."

"Why don't you take your bag?" asked Anita.

"It's too small for my new Geography," answered Dorothea, placing this huge outward and visible sign of her progress in learning so that it would form a foundation for the rest of her books. "Besides, it's too shabby".

"You had better take it to-day, anyhow, as you have so much to carry,"

suggested her mother. "I brought it downstairs and it's on the hat-rack."

"I just hate it!" pouted Dorothea, turning; and then stopped in surprise, for instead of her little old satchel, a large new one made of soft dark brown leather was hanging on the rack. It was ornamented on one side with her monogram in raised tan-colored letters, and it was large enough for the largest Geography that she was ever likely to have.

"Who gave me that?" she cried. "Oh, I know--Mother! It's just exactly what I wanted. I think going to school this way is perfectly lovely!"

she added as she slipped her other possessions into the bag.

"Twenty minutes to nine!" called Jim warningly.

"All right, I'm going now," answered Dorothea gaily as she kissed them all around.

"And the first day of school isn't so dismal after all, is it?" said her father.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AT THE GATE SHE TURNED TO WAVE HER HAND."]

"Oh, it's splendid, just splendid!" she replied enthusiastically. At the gate she turned to wave her hand at the a.s.sembled family, who waved back at her vigorously; and then, swinging her bag, she ran off down the street toward school.

THE LOST MONEY

BY BOLTON HALL

Doris's papa gave her a five-dollar bill, such a lot of money! Doris went to a big bank and asked if they could give her smaller money for it. The banker said he thought they could. So he gave her two two-dollar bills and a big silver dollar. How much did that make? Doris wanted the dollar changed again; so the banker asked if she would have two fifty-cent pieces, or one fifty-cent piece and two quarters--or perhaps four quarters or ten dimes--or twenty five-cent pieces--or a hundred pennies.

Doris thought a hundred pennies would be a good many to count and to carry, so she said she would take two quarters, three dimes and four five-cent pieces.

She laid away four dollars in the bank, those were the two bills, and put the change in her purse. When she went to the shop, she had such a lot of money that she thought she never could spend it. So she bought a paint-box with two little saucers in it for 10 cents; that left her 90 cents; and then a big rubber balloon for 25 cents; that left 65 cents; and a little one for 10 cents; and then Doris bought a whole pound of candy for thirty cents. Out of the 25 cents she had left, it cost 10 cents to go in the car.

When Doris got home she opened her paint-box. What do you think? Of course it was only a cheap paint-box and the paints were so hard that they would not paint at all. Doris cut out the dolls, but they were no better than those in any newspaper's colored supplement. Doris's mama said that the candy was too bad to eat at all, and the rubber balloons got wrinkled and soft in the night, because the gas went out of them.

Doris cried when she saw them. "Now," she said, "I have nothing left of my beautiful dollar but 15 cents."

"I'm sorry, Dearie," Doris's mama said, "but it's bad enough to have wasted one dollar without crying about it, too. When you and I go out, we'll try to get such good things for the next dollar, that it will make up for our mistake about this one." The next bright day they went to the bank and got another dollar.

Now Doris's mama was a very wise person (mamas often are). So they went to a store where there were some books that had been wet a little by the firemen when the store caught fire. There they found a large, fine book of animal stories with pictures in it that had been 50 cents, but the book-store man sold it for 10 cents, because the back cover and a little bit of the edge was stained with water and smoke.

That left--how much? Ninety cents. Doris's brother had told her he would teach her to play marbles, so she bought six gla.s.s marbles for 5 cents and a hoop with a stick for 5 more. That left 80 cents.

Then Doris asked if her mama thought she could buy a pair of roller skates. Her mama said they could ask how much roller skates cost, but the shopman said they were a dollar a pair! So Doris said she would save up the 80 cents that was left of her dollar and wait until she had enough for the skates.

However, a little boy was looking in at the window of the toy-shop and he looked so sad, and so longingly at the toys, that Doris spoke to him, and when he said he wanted one of the red b.a.l.l.s, she bought it for 5 cents, and gave it to him. That left 75 cents.

When they got home, they told papa about the skates and he said he could get them down-town for 75 cents, and he did.

So Doris learned by losing her first dollar, to get a lot of good things that would be more useful and would last longer, with her second dollar.

A DUTCH TREAT

BY AMY B. JOHNSON

"I've been crying again, father."

"Have you, sweetheart? I'm sorry."

"Father."

"Yes, darling."

"I don't like Holland at all. I wish we had stayed in New York. And I would much rather stay in Amsterdam with you to-day than to go and see those horrid little Dutch children. I'm sure I shall hate them all."

"But how about Marie? You want to see her, don't you?"