Five Minute Stories. Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe

to be tied up, and then Willy boy wanted some more tail for his kite, and he could not find any paper, and his string had got all tangled up.

      Then came little Carrie, and she had no buttons small enough for her dolly’s frock, and did sister think she had any in her work-basket?

      So sister looked, and Carrie looked, too, and between them they upset the basket, and the spools rolled over the floor and under the chairs, as if they were playing a game; and the gray kitten caught her best spool of gold-colored floss, and had a delightful time with it, and got it all mixed up with her claws so that she couldn’t help herself, and Bell had to cut off yards and yards of the silk.

      At last it was settled, and the little girl supplied with buttons, and Bell sank back again on the window-seat, so glad that she hadn’t been impatient, and had seen how funny the kitten looked, so that she could laugh instead of scold about the silk.

      “And when the golden prince saw the Princess Merveille, he took her hand and kissed it, for it was like the purest ivory and delicately shaped. And he said – ”

      Tinkle! tinkle! went the door-bell, and Bell, with a long sigh, laid down the book and went to the door, for Mary was out. It was old Mr. Grimshaw.

      “Good-day, miss!” he said, with old-fashioned courtesy, “I have come to borrow the third volume of ‘Paley’s Evidences.’ I met your worthy father, and he was good enough to say that you would find the book for me. I am of the opinion that he mentioned the right-hand corner of the third shelf in some bookcase; I do not rightly remember in which room.”

      Bell showed the old gentleman into the study and brought him a chair, and looked in the right-hand corners of all the shelves; then she looked in the left-hand corners; then she looked in the middle; then she looked on Papa’s desk, and in it and under it.

      Then she looked on the mantel-piece, and in the cupboard, and in the chairs, for there was no knowing where dear Papa would put a book down when his thinking-cap was on. All the time Mr. Grimshaw was delivering a lecture on Paley, and telling her on what points he disagreed with him, and why; and Bell felt as if a teetotum were going round and round inside her head.

      At last, in lifting Papa’s dressing-gown, which hung on the back of a chair, she felt something square and heavy in one of the pockets; and —there was the third volume of “Paley’s Evidences.”

      She handed it to Mr. Grimshaw with her prettiest smile, and he went away thinking she was a very nice, well-mannered little girl.

      And so she was; but – oh dear! when she got back to the window-seat the daylight was nearly gone.

      Still, the west was very bright, and perhaps she could just find out.

      “And he said, ‘Princess, my heart is yours! Therefore, I pray you, accept my hand, also, and with it my kingdom of Grendalma, which stretches from sea to sea. Ivory palaces shall be yours, and thrones of gold; mantles of peacock feathers, with many chests of precious stones.’ So the princess – ”

      “Bell!” called Mamma from the next room. “It is too late to read, dear! Blindman’s Holiday, you know, is the most dangerous time for the eyes. So shut the book, like a dear daughter!”

      Bell shut the book, of course; but a cloud came over her pleasant face, and two little cross sticks began beating a tattoo on her heart.

      Just at that moment came voices under the window, – Carrie and Willy boy, talking earnestly. “Would a princess be very pretty, do you suppose, Willy? prettier than Bell?”

      “Ho!” said Willy, “who cares for ‘pretty?’ She wouldn’t be half so nice as Bell. Why, none of the other fellows’ sisters – ”

      They passed out of hearing; and even so the cloud passed away from Bell’s brow, and she jumped up and shook her head at herself, and ran to give Mamma a kiss, and ask if she would like her tea.

      TOBOGGANING SONG

      When the field lies clear in the moon, boy,

      And the wood hangs dark on the hill,

      When the long white way shows never a sleigh,

      And the sound of the bells is still,

      Then hurry, hurry, hurry!

      And bring the toboggans along;

      Tell mother she need not worry,

      Then off with a shout and a song.

      A-tilt on the billowy slope, boy,

      Like a boat that bends to the sea,

      With the heart a-tilt in your breast, boy,

      And your chin well down on your knee,

      Then over, over, over,

      As the boat skims over the main,

      A plunge and a swoop, a gasp and a whoop,

      And away o’er the glittering plain!

      The boat, and the bird, and the breeze, boy,

      Which the poet is apt to sing,

      Are old and slow and clumsy, I know,

      By us that have never a wing.

      Still onward, onward, onward!

      Till the brook joins the meadow below,

      And then with a shout, see us tumbling out,

      To plunge in the soft, deep snow.

      Back now by the side of the hedge, boy,

      Where the roses in summer blow,

      Where the snow lies deep o’er their winter sleep,

      Up, up the big hill we go.

      And stumbling, tumbling, stumbling,

      Hurrah! ’tis the top we gain!

      Draw breath for a minute before you begin it —

      Now, over, and over again!

      SONG OF THE TILT

      Up and down and up we go!

      I am an eagle and you are a crow:

      Flap your wings, and away we fly,

      Over the tree-top, up to the sky.

      Up and down and up we go!

      I am an albatross white as snow,

      You are a sea-gull, winging free

      Out and away to the open sea.

      Up and down and up we go!

      I am a wild duck sinking low,

      You are a wild goose soaring high,

      The hunter is after us! fly! oh, fly!

      Tumble and bump! and down we go!

      My leg is broken! oh! oh! OH!!

      Your nose bleeding? poor little Tot!

      Well, never mind! let’s play we are shot!

      THE LAZY ROBIN

      The mother robin woke up in the early morning and roused her three children.

      “Breakfast time, my dears!” she said; “and a good time for a flying lesson, besides. You did well enough yesterday, but to-day you must do better. You must fly down to the ground, and then I will show you how to get worms for yourselves. You will soon be too old to be fed, and I cannot have you more backward than the other broods.”

      The young robins were rather frightened, for they had only had two short flying lessons, taking little flapping flutters among the branches. The ground seemed a long, long way off!

      However, two of them scrambled on to the edge of the nest, and after balancing themselves for a moment, launched bravely out, and were soon standing beside their mother on the lawn, trembling, but very proud.

      The