Very Short Stories and Verses For Children Part 6

"Yes, I do; I found them out the other day."

"I shall go out with Mary."

"All right."

"And I shall never go into the woods with you any more."

"Very well. I don't care," he said. Then she broke down and sobbed.

"You are a very unkind boy."

"It's all your fault."

"No, it's all yours. You began."

"No, you began."

"You don't like me now," she sobbed.

"Yes, I do."

"You said I was a nasty, disagreeable thing."

"Well, I didn't mean it if I did. You said I was an ugly, unkind boy."

"Oh, but I didn't mean it," she said.

"You know I'm very fond of you."

"So am I of you."

"All right, then, let's make it up." So he turned round quickly and she turned round slowly, and he put his arms round her waist, and she put her hands up on to his shoulders, and they kissed each other, and hugged each other, and rubbed noses, and laughed.

"Shall we go to the woods?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Yes, come along."

"You said you'd go without me," she pouted.

"Oh, but I shouldn't have liked it a bit."

"And I should have been so unhappy," she said.

"And now we just will have a game," he answered, as hand-in-hand they went off as fast as they could scamper.

MY LITTLE BROTHER.

My baby brother's fat, as fat As any boy can be, And he is just the sweetest duck That ever you did see.

I count the dimples in his hands A dozen times a-day, And often wonder when he coos What he would like to say.

I comb the down upon his head-- He hasn't any hair,-- It must be cold without, and yet He never seems to care.

It is so nice to see him kick, He has such pretty feet; I think if we might eat him up It would be quite a treat.

THE KITE.

It was the most tiresome kite in the world, always wagging its tail, shaking its ears, breaking its string, sitting down on the tops of houses, getting stuck in trees, entangled in hedges, flopping down on ponds, or lying flat on the gra.s.s, and refusing to rise higher than a yard from the ground.

I have often sat and thought about that kite, and wondered who its father and mother were. Perhaps they were very poor people, just made of newspaper and little bits of common string knotted together, obliged to fly day and night for a living, and never able to give any time to their children or to bring them up properly. It was pretty, for it had a snow-white face, and pink and white ears; and, with these, no one, let alone a kite, could help being pretty. But though the kite was pretty, it was not good, and it did not prosper; it came to a bad end, oh! a terrible end indeed. It stuck itself on a roof one day, a common red roof with a broken chimney and three tiles missing. It stuck itself there, and it would not move; the children tugged and pulled and coaxed and cried, but still it would not move. At last they fetched a ladder, and had nearly reached it when suddenly the kite started and flew away--right away over the field and over the heath, and over the far far woods, and it never came back again--never--never.

Dear, that is all. But I think sometimes that perhaps beyond the dark pines and the roaring sea the kite is flying still, on and on, farther and farther away, for ever and for ever.

THE TINKER'S MARRIAGE.

Two beaux and a belle, a goat and a carriage, They all set off to the tinker's marriage.

Two three-cornered hats, and one with a feather, They looked very fine in the sweet summer weather.

But the carriage turned over, the poor goat shied, The little belle laughed, the silly beaux cried, And the tinker fumed, "Oh, why do they tarry?

And why don't they come to see me marry?

I shall throw my bride right into the sea, If they are not here by half-past three."

But the belle was laughing, "Oh, what shall we do!"

And the beaux were crying, "Bee-bee-bee-boo."

THE CHILDREN AND THE GARLAND.

"To-morrow is May-day," the children said; "the birds must call us very early, and we will go to the woods and make a garland." And in the morning, long before the sun had looked over the tops of the houses into the village street, they were far away in the woods.

"I will give them some roses as they come back," the gardener said.

"They shall put them among the spring flowers, as a swallow among the thrushes, to show that summer is on its way."

When the children had made their garland and a posy for each one of them, they went singing all down the village street, over the grey stone bridge, beyond the hayricks, and past the houses on the hill-side.

In one of the houses there was a pale little child with a sad, thin face. "Mother," he said, "here are some children with a garland. Will it be summer when they have gone by?" He called after them as they went on, "Come back, oh, come back again!"