Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
THE FROG OF PRINCE
After a time she threw it up so high that she missed catching it as it fell; and the ball bounded away, and rolled along on the ground, until at last it fell down into the spring. The princess looked into the spring after her ball, but it was very deep, so deep that she could not see the bottom of it. She began to cry, and said, 'Alas! if I could only get my ball again, I would give all my fine clothes and jewels, and everything that I have in the world.'
Whilst she was speaking, a frog put its head out of the water, and said, 'Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?'
'Alas!' said she, 'what can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the spring.'
The frog said, 'I do not want your pearls, and jewels, and fine clothes; but if you will love me, and let me live with you and eat from off your golden plate, and sleep on your bed, I will bring you your ball again.'
'What nonsense,' thought the princess, 'this silly frog is talking! He can never even get out of the spring to visit me, though he may be able to get my ball for me, and therefore I will tell him he shall have what he asks.'
So she said to the frog, 'Well, if you will bring me my ball, I will do all you ask.'
Then the frog put his head down, and dived deep under the water; and after a little while he came up again, with the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the edge of the spring.
As soon as the young princess saw her ball, she ran to pick it up; and she was so overjoyed to have it in her hand again, that she never thought of the frog, but ran home with it as fast as she could.
The frog called after her, 'Stay, princess, and take me with you as you said,'
But she did not stop to hear a word.
The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she heard a strange noise - tap, tap - plash, plash - as if something was coming up the marble staircase, and soon afterwards there was a gentle knock at the door, and a little voice cried out and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she saw the frog, whom she had quite forgotten. At this sight she was sadly frightened, and shutting the door as fast as she could came back to her seat.
The king, her father, seeing that something had frightened her, asked her what was the matter.
'There is a nasty frog,' said she, 'at the door, that lifted my ball for me out of the spring this morning. I told him that he should live with me here, thinking that he could never get out of the spring; but there he is at the door, and he wants to come in.'
While she was speaking the frog knocked again at the door, and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
Then the king said to the young princess, 'As you have given your word you must keep it; so go and let him in.'
She did so, and the frog hopped into the room, and then straight on - tap, tap - plash, plash - from the bottom of the room to the top, till he came up close to the table where the princess sat.
'Pray lift me upon chair,' said he to the princess, 'and let me sit next to you.'
As soon as she had done this, the frog said, 'Put your plate nearer to me, that I may eat out of it.'
This she did, and when he had eaten as much as he could, he said, 'Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, and put me into your bed.' And the princess, though very unwilling, took him up in her hand, and put him upon the pillow of her own bed, where he slept all night long.
As soon as it was light the frog jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out of the house.
'Now, then,' thought the princess, 'at last he is gone, and I shall be troubled with him no more.'
But she was mistaken; for when night came again she heard the same tapping at the door; and the frog came once more, and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
And when the princess opened the door the frog came in, and slept upon her pillow as before, till the morning broke. And the third night he did the same. But when the princess awoke on the following morning she was astonished to see, instead of the frog, a handsome prince, gazing on her with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and standing at the head of her bed.
He told her that he had been enchanted by a spiteful fairy, who had changed him into a frog; and that he had been fated so to abide till some princess should take him out of the spring, and let him eat from her plate, and sleep upon her bed for three nights.
'You,' said the prince, 'have broken his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for but that you should go with me into my father's kingdom, where I will marry you, and love you as long as you live.'
The young princess, you may be sure, was not long in saying 'Yes' to all this; and as they spoke a brightly coloured coach drove up, with eight beautiful horses, decked with plumes of feathers and a golden harness; and behind the coach rode the prince's servant, faithful Heinrich, who had bewailed the misfortunes of his dear master during his enchantment so long and so bitterly, that his heart had well-nigh burst.
They then took leave of the king, and got into the coach with eight horses, and all set out, full of joy and merriment, for the prince's kingdom, which they reached safely; and there they lived happily a great many years.
THE FROG OF PRINCE
After a time she threw it up so high that she missed catching it as it fell; and the ball bounded away, and rolled along on the ground, until at last it fell down into the spring. The princess looked into the spring after her ball, but it was very deep, so deep that she could not see the bottom of it. She began to cry, and said, 'Alas! if I could only get my ball again, I would give all my fine clothes and jewels, and everything that I have in the world.'
Whilst she was speaking, a frog put its head out of the water, and said, 'Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?'
'Alas!' said she, 'what can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the spring.'
The frog said, 'I do not want your pearls, and jewels, and fine clothes; but if you will love me, and let me live with you and eat from off your golden plate, and sleep on your bed, I will bring you your ball again.'
'What nonsense,' thought the princess, 'this silly frog is talking! He can never even get out of the spring to visit me, though he may be able to get my ball for me, and therefore I will tell him he shall have what he asks.'
So she said to the frog, 'Well, if you will bring me my ball, I will do all you ask.'
Then the frog put his head down, and dived deep under the water; and after a little while he came up again, with the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the edge of the spring.
As soon as the young princess saw her ball, she ran to pick it up; and she was so overjoyed to have it in her hand again, that she never thought of the frog, but ran home with it as fast as she could.
The frog called after her, 'Stay, princess, and take me with you as you said,'
But she did not stop to hear a word.
The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she heard a strange noise - tap, tap - plash, plash - as if something was coming up the marble staircase, and soon afterwards there was a gentle knock at the door, and a little voice cried out and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she saw the frog, whom she had quite forgotten. At this sight she was sadly frightened, and shutting the door as fast as she could came back to her seat.
The king, her father, seeing that something had frightened her, asked her what was the matter.
'There is a nasty frog,' said she, 'at the door, that lifted my ball for me out of the spring this morning. I told him that he should live with me here, thinking that he could never get out of the spring; but there he is at the door, and he wants to come in.'
While she was speaking the frog knocked again at the door, and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
Then the king said to the young princess, 'As you have given your word you must keep it; so go and let him in.'
She did so, and the frog hopped into the room, and then straight on - tap, tap - plash, plash - from the bottom of the room to the top, till he came up close to the table where the princess sat.
'Pray lift me upon chair,' said he to the princess, 'and let me sit next to you.'
As soon as she had done this, the frog said, 'Put your plate nearer to me, that I may eat out of it.'
This she did, and when he had eaten as much as he could, he said, 'Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, and put me into your bed.' And the princess, though very unwilling, took him up in her hand, and put him upon the pillow of her own bed, where he slept all night long.
As soon as it was light the frog jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out of the house.
'Now, then,' thought the princess, 'at last he is gone, and I shall be troubled with him no more.'
But she was mistaken; for when night came again she heard the same tapping at the door; and the frog came once more, and said:
'Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.'
And when the princess opened the door the frog came in, and slept upon her pillow as before, till the morning broke. And the third night he did the same. But when the princess awoke on the following morning she was astonished to see, instead of the frog, a handsome prince, gazing on her with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and standing at the head of her bed.
He told her that he had been enchanted by a spiteful fairy, who had changed him into a frog; and that he had been fated so to abide till some princess should take him out of the spring, and let him eat from her plate, and sleep upon her bed for three nights.
'You,' said the prince, 'have broken his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for but that you should go with me into my father's kingdom, where I will marry you, and love you as long as you live.'
The young princess, you may be sure, was not long in saying 'Yes' to all this; and as they spoke a brightly coloured coach drove up, with eight beautiful horses, decked with plumes of feathers and a golden harness; and behind the coach rode the prince's servant, faithful Heinrich, who had bewailed the misfortunes of his dear master during his enchantment so long and so bitterly, that his heart had well-nigh burst.
They then took leave of the king, and got into the coach with eight horses, and all set out, full of joy and merriment, for the prince's kingdom, which they reached safely; and there they lived happily a great many years.
Read more at http://www.kidsgen.com/short_stories/the-frog-prince.htm#di6kcVocjPWxOyix.99
FRIENDS
My mamma," reported Morris Mowgelewsky, choosing a quiet moment during a writing period to engage his teacher's attention, "my mamma likes you shall come on mine house for see her."
"Very well, dear," answered Miss Bailey with a patience born of many such messages from the parents of her small charges. "I think I shall have time to go this afternoon."
"My mamma," Morris began again, "she says I shall tell you 'scuse how she don't send you no letter. She couldn't to send no letter the while her eyes ain't healthy." "I am sorry to hear that," said Teacher, with a little stab of regret for her prompt acceptance of Mrs. Mowgelewsky's invitation; for of all the ailments which the children shared so generously with their teacher, Miss Bailey had learned to dread most the many and painful disorders of the eye. She knew, however, that Mrs. Mowgelewsky was not one of those who utter unnecessary cries for help, being in this regard, as in many others, a striking contrast to the majority of parents with whom Miss Bailey came in contact.
To begin with, Mrs. Mowgelewsky had but one child—her precious, only Morris. In addition to this singularity she was thrifty and neat, intensely self-respecting and independent of spirit, and astonishingly outspoken of mind. She neither shared nor understood the gregarious spirit which bound her neighbors together and is the lubricant which makes East Side crowding possible without bloodshed. No groups of chattering, gesticulating matrons ever congregated in her Monroe Street apartment. No love of gossip ever held her on street corners or on steps. She nourished few friendships and fewer acquaintanceships, and she welcomed no haphazard visitor. Her hospitalities were as serious as her manner; her invitations as deliberate as her slow English speech. And Miss Bailey, as she and the First Readers followed the order of studies laid down for them, found herself again and again, trying to imagine what the days would be to Mrs. Mowgelewsky if her keen, shrewd eyes were to be darkened and useless.
At three o'clock she set out with Morris, leaving the Board of Monitors[78-1] to set Room 18 to rights with no more direct supervision than an occasional look and word from the stout Miss Blake, whose kingdom lay just across the hall. And as she hurried through the early cold of a November afternoon, her forebodings grew so lugubrious that she was almost relieved at last to learn that Mrs. Mowgelewsky's complaint was a slow-forming cataract, and her supplication, that Miss Bailey would keep a watchful eye upon Morris while his mother was at the hospital undergoing treatment and operation.
"But of course," Miss Bailey agreed, "I shall be delighted to do what I can, Mrs. Mowgelewsky, though it seems to me that one of the neighbors——" "Neighbors!" snorted the matron; "What you think the neighbors make mit mine little boy? They got four, five dozens childrens theirselves. They ain't got no time for look on Morris. They come maybe in mine house und break mine dishes, und rubber on what is here, und set by mine furniture und talks. What do they know over takin' care on mine house? They ain't ladies. They is educated only on the front. Me, I was raised private und expensive in Russia; I was ladies. Und you ist ladies. You ist Krisht[79-1]—that is too bad—but that makes me nothings. I wants you shall look on Morris."
"But I can't come here and take care of him," Miss Bailey pointed out. "You see that for yourself, don't you, Mrs. Mowgelewsky? I am sorry as I can be about your eyes, and I hope with all my heart that the operation will be successful. But I shouldn't have time to come here and take care of things." "That ain't how mine mamma means," Morris explained. He was leaning against Teacher and stroking her muff as he spoke. "Mine mamma means the money." "That ist what I means," said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, nodding her ponderous head until her quite incredible wig slipped back and forth upon it. "Morris needs he shall have money. He could to fix the house so good like I can. He don't needs no neighbors rubberin'. He could to buy what he needs on the store. But ten cents a day he needs. His papa works by Harlem. He is got fine jobs, und he gets fine moneys, but he couldn't to come down here for take care of Morris. Und the doctor he says I shall go now on the hospital. Und any way," she added sadly, "I ain't no good; I couldn't to see things. He says I shall lay in the hospital three weeks, may be—that is twenty-one days—und for Morris it is two dollars und ten cents. I got the money." And she fumbled for her purse in various hiding-places about her ample person.
"And you want me to be banker," cried Miss Bailey; "to keep the money and give Morris ten cents a day—is that it?"
"Sure," answered Mrs. Mowgelewsky.
"It's a awful lot of money," grieved Morris. "Ten cents a day is a awful lot of money for one boy."
"No, no, my golden one," cried his mother. "It is but right that thou shouldst have plenty of money, und thy teacher, a Christian lady, though honest—und what neighbor is honest?—will give thee ten cents every morning. Behold, I pay the rent before I go, und with the rent paid und with ten cents a day thou wilt live like a landlord." "Yes, yes," Morris broke in, evidently repeating some familiar warning, "und every day I will say mine prayers und wash me the face, und keep the neighbors out, und on Thursdays und on Sundays I shall go on the hospital for see you."
"And on Saturdays," broke in Miss Bailey, "you will come to my house and spend the day with me. He's too little, Mrs. Mowgelewsky, to go to the synagogue alone." "That could be awful nice," breathed Morris. "I likes I shall go on your house. I am lovin' much mit your dog."
"How?" snorted his mother. "Dogs! Dogs ain't nothing but foolishness. They eats something fierce, und they don't works."
"That iss how mine mamma thinks," Morris hastened to explain, lest the sensitive feelings of his Lady Paramount should suffer. "But mine mamma she never seen yourdog. He iss a awful nice dog; I am lovin' much mit him."
"I don't needs I shall see him," said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, somewhat tartly. "I seen, already, lots from dogs. Don't you go make no foolishness mit him. Don't you go und get chawed off of him." "Of course, of course not," Miss Bailey hastened to assure her; "he will only play with Rover if I should be busy or unable to take him out with me. He'll be safer at my house than he would be on the streets, and you wouldn't expect him to stay in the house all day."
After more parley and many warnings the arrangement was completed. Miss Bailey was intrusted with two dollars and ten cents, and the censorship of Morris. A day or so later Mrs. Mowgelewsky retired, indomitable, to her darkened room in the hospital, and the neighbors were inexorably shut out of her apartment. All their offers of help, all their proffers of advice were politely refused by Morris, all their questions and visits politely dodged. And every morning Miss Bailey handed her Monitor of the Goldfish Bowl his princely stipend, adding to it from time to time some fruit or other uncontaminated food, for Morris was religiously the strictest of the strict, and could have given cards and spades to many a minor rabbi[82-1] on the intricacies of Kosher law.
The Saturday after his mother's departure Morris spent in the enlivening companionship of the antiquated Rover, a collie who no longer roved farther than his own back yard, and who accepted Morris's frank admiration with a noble condescension and a few rheumatic gambols. Miss Bailey's mother was also hospitable, and her sister did what she could to amuse the quaint little child with the big eyes, the soft voice, and the pretty foreign manners. But Morris preferred Rover to any of them, except perhaps the cook, who allowed him to prepare a luncheon for himself after his own little rites.
Everything had seemed so pleasant and so successful that Miss Bailey looked upon a repetition of this visit as a matter of course, and was greatly surprised on the succeeding Friday afternoon when the Monitor of the Goldfish Bowl said that he intended to spend the next day at home.
"Oh, no!" she remonstrated, "you mustn't stay at home. I'm going to take you out to the Park and we are going to have all kinds of fun. Wouldn't you rather go and see the lions and the elephants with me than stay at home all by yourself?"
For some space Morris was a prey to silence, then he managed by a consuming effort:
"I ain't by mineself."
"Has your father come home?" said Teacher.
"No, ma'am."
"And surely it's not a neighbor. You remember what your mother said about the neighbors, how you were not to let them in."
"It ain't neighbors," said Morris.
"Then who——?" began Miss Bailey.
Morris raised his eyes to hers, his beautiful, black, pleading eyes, praying for the understanding and the sympathy which had never failed him yet. "It's a friend," he answered. "Nathan Spiderwitz?" she asked.
Morris shook his head, and gave Teacher to understand that the Monitor of the Window Boxes came under the ban of neighbor.
"Well, who is it, dearest?" she asked again. "Is it any one that I know?"
"No, ma'am."
"None of the boys in the school?"
"No, ma'am." "Have you known him long?" "No, ma'am." "Does your mother know him?"
"Oh, Teacher, no, ma'am! Mine mamma don't know him."
"Well, where did you meet him?"
"Teacher, on the curb. Over yesterday on the night," Morris began, seeing that explanation was inevitable, "I lays on mine bed, und I thinks how mine mamma has got a sickness, und how mine papa is by Harlem, und how I ain't got nobody beside of me. Und, Teacher, it makes me cold in mine heart. So I couldn't to lay no more, so I puts me on mit mine clothes some more, und I goes by the street, the while peoples is there, und I needs I shall see peoples. So I sets by the curb, und mine heart it go und it go so I couldn't to feel how it go in mine inside. Und I thinks on my mamma, how I seen her mit bandages on the face, und mine heart it goes some more. Und, Teacher, Missis Bailey, I cries over it."
"Of course you did, honey," said Teacher, putting her arm about him. "Poor, little, lonely chap! Of course you cried."
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am; it ain't fer boys they shall cry, but I cries over it. Und soon something touches me by mine side, und I turns und mine friend he was sittin' by side of me. Und he don't say nothings, Teacher; no, ma'am; he don't say nothings, only he looks on me, und in his eyes stands tears. So that makes me better in mine heart, und I don't cries no more. I sets und looks on mine friend, und mine friend he sets und looks on me mit smilin' looks. So I goes by mine house, und mine friend he comes by mine house, too, und I lays by mine bed, und mine friend he lays by mine side. Und all times in that night sooner I open mine eyes und thinks on how mine mamma is got a sickness, und mine papa is by Harlem, mine friend he is by mine side, und I don't cries. I don't cries never no more the whiles mine friend is by me. Und I couldn't to go on your house to-morrow the whiles I don't know if mine friend likes Rover."
"Of course he'd like him," cried Miss Bailey. "Rover would play with him just as he plays with you."
"No, ma'am," Morris maintained; "mine friend is too little for play mit Rover."
"Is he such a little fellow?"
"Yiss, ma'am; awful little."
"And has he been with you ever since the day before yesterday?"
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am."
"Does he seem to be happy and all right?"
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am."
"But," asked Miss Bailey, suddenly practical, "what does the poor little fellow eat? Of course ten cents would buy a lot of food for one boy, but not so very much for two."
"Teacher, no, ma'am," says Morris; "it ain't so very much."
"Well, then," said Miss Bailey, "suppose I give you twenty cents a day as long as a little strange friend is with you."
"That could to be awful nice," Morris agreed; "und, Missis Bailey," he went on, "sooner you don't needs all yours lunch mine friend could eat it, maybe."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she cried; "It's ham to-day."
"That don't make nothins mit mine friend," said Morris, "he likes ham."
"Now, Morris," said Miss Bailey very gravely, as all the meanings of this announcement spread themselves before her, "this is a very serious thing. You know how your mother feels about strangers, and you know how she feels about Christians, and what will she say to you—and what will she say to me—when she hears that a strange little Christian is living with you? Of course, dearie, I know it's nice for you to have company, and I know that you must be dreadfully lonely in the long evenings, but I'm afraid your mother will not be pleased to think of your having somebody to stay with you. Wouldn't you rather come to my house and live there all the time until your mother is better. You know," she added as a crowning inducement, "Rover is there." But Morris betrayed no enthusiasm. "I guess," said he, "I ain't lovin' so awful much mit Rover. He iss too big. I am likin' little dogs mit brown eyes, what walks by their legs und carries things by their mouths. Did you ever see dogs like that?"
"In the circus," answered Teacher. "Where did you see them?"
"A boy by our block," answered Morris, "is got one. He is lovin' much mit that dog und that dog is lovin' much mit him."
"Well, now, perhaps you could teach Rover to walk on his hind legs, and carry things in his mouth," suggested Teacher; "and as for this new little Christian friend of yours——"
"I don't know be he a Krisht," Morris admitted with reluctant candor; "he ain't said nothin' over it to me. On'y a Irisher lady what lives by our house, she says mine friend is a Irisher."
"Very well, dear; then of course he's a Christian," Miss Bailey assured him, "and I shan't interfere with you to-morrow—you may stay at home and play with him. But we can't let it go on, you know. This kind of thing never would do when your mother comes back from the hospital. She might not want your friend in the house. Have you thought of that at all, Morris? You must make your friend understand it."
"I tells him," Morris promised; "I don't know can he understand. He's pretty little, only that's how I tells him all times."
"Then tell him once again, honey," Miss Bailey advised, "and make him understand that he must go back to his own people as soon as your mother is well. Where are his own people? I can't understand how any one so little could be wandering about with no one to take care of him."
"Teacher, I'm takin' care of him," Morris pointed out.
All that night and all the succeeding day Miss Bailey's imagination reverted again and again to the two little ones keeping house in Mrs. Mowgelewsky's immaculate apartment. Even increasing blindness had not been allowed to interfere with sweeping and scrubbing and dusting, and when Teacher thought of that patient matron, as she lay in her hospital cot trusting so securely to her Christian friend's guardianship of her son and home, she fretted herself into feeling that it was her duty to go down to Monroe Street and investigate. There was at first no sound when, after climbing endless stairs, she came to Mrs. Mowgelewsky's door. But as the thumping of the heart and the singing in her ears abated somewhat, she detected Morris's familiar treble.
"Bread," it said, "iss awful healthy for you, only you dasn't eat it 'out chewin'. I never in my world seen how you eats."
Although the words were admonitory, they lost all didactic effect by the wealth of love and tenderness which sang in the voice. There was a note of happiness in it, too, a throb of pure enjoyment quite foreign to Teacher's knowledge of this sad-eyed little charge of hers. She rested against the door frame, and Morris went on:"I guess you don't know what iss polite. You shall better come on the school, und Miss Bailey could to learn you what iss polite and healthy fer you. No, you couldn't to have no meat. No, sir! No, ma'am! You couldn't to have no meat 'till I cuts it fer you. You could to, maybe, make yourself a sickness und a bashfulness."
Miss Bailey put her hand on the door and it yielded noiselessly to her touch, and revealed to her guardian eyes her ward and his little friend. They were seated vis-a-vis[89-1] at the table; everything was very neat and clean and most properly set out. A little lamp was burning clearly. Morris's hair was parted for about an inch back from his forehead and sleeked wetly down upon his brow. The guest had evidently undergone similar preparation for the meal. Each had a napkin tied around his neck, and as Teacher watched them, Morris carefully prepared his guest's dinner, while the guest, an Irish terrier, with quick eyes and one down-flopped ear, accepted his admonishings with a good-natured grace, and watched him with an adoring and confiding eye. The guest was first to detect the stranger's presence. He seized a piece of bread in his teeth, jumped to the ground, and walking up to Teacher on his hind legs, hospitably dropped the refreshment at her feet.
"Oh! Teacher! Teacher!" cried Morris, half in dismay at discovery, and half in joy that this so sure confidant should share his secret and appreciate his friend. "Oh! Teacher! Missis Bailey! this is the friend what I was telling you over. See how he walks on his feet! See how he has got smilin' looks! See how he carries somethings by his teeth! All times he makes like that. Rover, he don't carries nothin's, und gold fishes, they ain't got no feet even. On'y Izzie could to make them things."
"Oh, is his name Izzie?" asked Miss Bailey, grasping at this conversational straw and shaking the paw which the stranger was presenting to her. "And this is the friend you told me about? You let me think," she chided, with as much severity as Morris had shown to his Izzie, "that he was a boy."
"I had a 'fraid," said the Monitor of the Gold Fish Bowl frankly.
So had Teacher as she reviewed the situation from Mrs. Mowgelewsky's chair of state, and watched the friends at supper. It was a revelation of solicitude on one side, and patient gratitude on the other. Morris ate hardly anything, and was soon at Teacher's knee—Izzie was in her lap—discussing ways and means.
He refused to entertain any plan which would separate him immediately from Izzie, but he was at last brought to see the sweet reasonableness of preparing his mother's mind by degrees to accept another member to the family.
"Und he eats," his protector was forced to admit—"he eats somethin' fierce, Missis Bailey; as much like a man he eats. Und my mamma, I don't know what she will say. She won't leave me I shall keep him; from long I had a little bit of a dog, und she wouldn't to leave me I should keep him, und he didn't eat so much like Izzie eats, neither."
"And I can't very well keep him," said Miss Bailey sadly, "because, you see, there is Rover. Rover mightn't like it. But there is one thing I can do: I'll keep him for a few days when your mother comes back, and then we'll see, you and I, if we can persuade her to let you have him always."
"She wouldn't never to do it," said Morris sadly. "That other dog, didn't I told you how he didn't eat so much like Izzie, and she wouldn't to let me have him? That's a cinch." "Oh! don't say that word, dear," cried Teacher. "And we can only try. We'll do our very, very best."
This guilty secret had a very dampening effect upon the joy with which Morris watched for his mother's recovery. Upon the day set for her return, he was a miserable battle-field of love and duty. Early in the morning Izzie had been transferred to Miss Bailey's yard. Rover was chained to his house, Izzie was tied to the wall at a safe distance from him, and they proceeded to make the day hideous for the whole neighborhood.
Morris remained at home to greet his mother, received her encomiums, cooked the dinner, and set out for afternoon school with a heavy heart and a heavier conscience. Nothing had occurred in those first hours to show any change in Mrs. Mowgelewsky's opinion of home pets; rather she seemed, in contrast to the mild and sympathetic Miss Bailey, more than ever dictatorial and dogmatic.
At a quarter after three, the gold fish having received perfunctory attention, and the Board of Monitors being left again to do their worst, unguarded, Morris and Teacher set out to prepare Mrs. Mowgelewsky's mind for the adoption of Izzie. They found it very difficult. Mrs. Mowgelewsky, restored of vision, was so hospitable, so festive in her elephantine manner, so loquacious and so self-congratulatory, that it was difficult to insert even the tiniest conversational wedge into the structure of her monologue.
Finally Miss Bailey managed to catch her attention upon financial matters. "You gave me," she said, "two dollars and ten cents, and Morris has managed so beautifully that he has not used it all, and has five cents to return to you. He's a very wonderful little boy, Mrs. Mowgelewsky," she added, smiling at her favorite to give him courage. "He iss a good boy," Mrs. Mowgelewsky admitted. "Don't you get lonesome sometimes by yourself here, huh?"
"Well," said Miss Bailey, "he wasn't always alone."
"No?" queried the matron with a divided attention. She was looking for her purse, in which she wished to stow Morris's surplus.
"No," said Teacher; "I was here once or twice. And then a little friend of his——"
"Friend," the mother repeated with a glare; "was friends here in mine house?"
Miss Bailey began a purposely vague reply, but Mrs. Mowgelewsky was not listening to her. She had searched the pockets of the gown she wore, then various other hiding-places in the region of its waist line, then a large bag of mattress covering which she wore under her skirt. Ever hurriedly and more hurriedly she repeated this performance two or three times, and then proceeded to shake and wring the out-door clothing which she had worn that morning.
"Gott!" she broke out at last, "mine Gott! mine Gott! it don't stands." And she began to peer about the floor with eyes not yet quite adjusted. Morris easily recognized the symptoms. "She's lost her pocket-book," he told Miss Bailey.
"Yes, I lost it," wailed Mrs. Mowgelewsky, and then the whole party participated in the search. Over and under the furniture, the carpets, the bed, the stove, over and under everything in the apartment went Mrs. Mowgelewsky and Morris. All the joy of home-coming and of well-being was darkened and blotted out by this new calamity. And Mrs. Mowgelewsky beat her breast and tore her hair, and Constance Bailey almost wept in sympathy. But the pocket-book was gone, absolutely gone, though Mrs. Mowgelewsky called Heaven and earth to witness that she had had it in her hand when she came in.
Another month's rent was due; the money to pay it was in the pocket-book. Mr. Mowgelewsky had visited his wife on Sunday, and had given her all his earnings as some salve to the pain of her eyes. Eviction, starvation, every kind of terror and disaster were thrown into Mrs. Mowgelewsky's wailing, and Morris proved an able second to his mother.
Miss Bailey was doing frantic bookkeeping in her charitable mind, and was wondering how much of the loss she might replace. She was about to suggest as a last resort that a search should be made of the dark and crannied stairs, where a purse, if the Fates were very, very kind, might lie undiscovered for hours, when a dull scratching made itself heard through the general lamentation. It came from a point far down on the panel of the door, and the same horrible conviction seized upon Morris and upon Miss Bailey at the same moment.
Mrs. Mowgelewsky in her frantic round had approached the door for the one-hundredth time, and with eyes and mind far removed from what she was doing, she turned the handle. And entered Izzie, beautifully erect upon his hind legs, with a yard or two of rope trailing behind him, and a pocket-book fast in his teeth.
Blank, pure surprise took Mrs. Mowgelewsky for its own. She staggered back into a chair, fortunately of heavy architecture, and stared at the apparition before her. Izzie came daintily in, sniffed at Morris, sniffed at Miss Bailey, sniffed at Mrs. Mowgelewsky's ample skirts, identified her as the owner of the pocket-book, laid it at her feet, and extended a paw to be shaken. "Mine Gott!" said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, "what for a dog iss that?" She counted her wealth, shook Izzie's paw, and then stooped forward, gathered him into her large embrace, and cried like a baby. "Mine Gott! Mine Gott!" she wailed again, and although she spent five minutes in apparent effort to evolve another and more suitable remark, her research met with no greater success than the addition:
"He ain't a dog at all; he iss friends."
Miss Bailey had been sent to an eminently good college, and had been instructed long and hard in psychology, so that she knew the psychologic moment when she met it. She now arose with congratulations and farewells. Mrs. Mowgelewsky arose also with Izzie still in her arms. She lavished endearments upon him and caresses upon his short black nose, and Izzie received them all with enthusiastic gratitude.
"And I think," said Miss Bailey in parting, "that you had better let that dog come with me. He seems a nice enough little thing, quiet, gentle, and very intelligent. He can live in the yard with Rover."
Morris turned his large eyes from one to another of his rulers, and Izzie, also good at psychologic moments, stretched out a pointed pink tongue and licked Mrs. Mowgelewsky's cheek. "This dog," said that lady majestically, "iss mine. Nobody couldn't never to have him. When I was in mine trouble, was it mans or was it ladies what takes und gives me mine money back? No! Was it neighbors? No! Was it you, Miss Teacher, mine friend? No! It was that dog. Here he stays mit me. Morris, my golden one, you wouldn't to have no feelin's 'bout mamma havin' dogs? You wouldn't to have mads?"
"No, ma'am," responded her obedient son; "Missis Bailey she says it's fer boys they should make all things what is lovin' mit cats und dogs und horses." "Goot," said his mother; "I guess, maybe, that ain't such a foolishness."
It was not until nearly bedtime that Mrs. Mowgelewsky reverted to that part of Miss Bailey's conversation immediately preceding the discovery of the loss of the purse.
"So-o-oh, my golden one," she began, lying back in her chair with Izzie on her lap—"so-o-oh, you had friends by the house when mamma was by hospital." "On'y one," Morris answered faintly.
"Well, I ain't scoldin'," said his mother. "Where iss your friend? I likes I shall look on him. Ain't he comin' round to-night?"
"No ma'am," answered Morris, settling himself at her side, and laying his head close to his friend. "He couldn't to go out by nights the while he gets adopted off of a lady."
Read more at http://www.kidsgen.com/short_stories/friends.htm#qdyL5kzJe4qJMA78.99
"Very well, dear," answered Miss Bailey with a patience born of many such messages from the parents of her small charges. "I think I shall have time to go this afternoon."
"My mamma," Morris began again, "she says I shall tell you 'scuse how she don't send you no letter. She couldn't to send no letter the while her eyes ain't healthy." "I am sorry to hear that," said Teacher, with a little stab of regret for her prompt acceptance of Mrs. Mowgelewsky's invitation; for of all the ailments which the children shared so generously with their teacher, Miss Bailey had learned to dread most the many and painful disorders of the eye. She knew, however, that Mrs. Mowgelewsky was not one of those who utter unnecessary cries for help, being in this regard, as in many others, a striking contrast to the majority of parents with whom Miss Bailey came in contact.
To begin with, Mrs. Mowgelewsky had but one child—her precious, only Morris. In addition to this singularity she was thrifty and neat, intensely self-respecting and independent of spirit, and astonishingly outspoken of mind. She neither shared nor understood the gregarious spirit which bound her neighbors together and is the lubricant which makes East Side crowding possible without bloodshed. No groups of chattering, gesticulating matrons ever congregated in her Monroe Street apartment. No love of gossip ever held her on street corners or on steps. She nourished few friendships and fewer acquaintanceships, and she welcomed no haphazard visitor. Her hospitalities were as serious as her manner; her invitations as deliberate as her slow English speech. And Miss Bailey, as she and the First Readers followed the order of studies laid down for them, found herself again and again, trying to imagine what the days would be to Mrs. Mowgelewsky if her keen, shrewd eyes were to be darkened and useless.
At three o'clock she set out with Morris, leaving the Board of Monitors[78-1] to set Room 18 to rights with no more direct supervision than an occasional look and word from the stout Miss Blake, whose kingdom lay just across the hall. And as she hurried through the early cold of a November afternoon, her forebodings grew so lugubrious that she was almost relieved at last to learn that Mrs. Mowgelewsky's complaint was a slow-forming cataract, and her supplication, that Miss Bailey would keep a watchful eye upon Morris while his mother was at the hospital undergoing treatment and operation.
"But of course," Miss Bailey agreed, "I shall be delighted to do what I can, Mrs. Mowgelewsky, though it seems to me that one of the neighbors——" "Neighbors!" snorted the matron; "What you think the neighbors make mit mine little boy? They got four, five dozens childrens theirselves. They ain't got no time for look on Morris. They come maybe in mine house und break mine dishes, und rubber on what is here, und set by mine furniture und talks. What do they know over takin' care on mine house? They ain't ladies. They is educated only on the front. Me, I was raised private und expensive in Russia; I was ladies. Und you ist ladies. You ist Krisht[79-1]—that is too bad—but that makes me nothings. I wants you shall look on Morris."
"But I can't come here and take care of him," Miss Bailey pointed out. "You see that for yourself, don't you, Mrs. Mowgelewsky? I am sorry as I can be about your eyes, and I hope with all my heart that the operation will be successful. But I shouldn't have time to come here and take care of things." "That ain't how mine mamma means," Morris explained. He was leaning against Teacher and stroking her muff as he spoke. "Mine mamma means the money." "That ist what I means," said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, nodding her ponderous head until her quite incredible wig slipped back and forth upon it. "Morris needs he shall have money. He could to fix the house so good like I can. He don't needs no neighbors rubberin'. He could to buy what he needs on the store. But ten cents a day he needs. His papa works by Harlem. He is got fine jobs, und he gets fine moneys, but he couldn't to come down here for take care of Morris. Und the doctor he says I shall go now on the hospital. Und any way," she added sadly, "I ain't no good; I couldn't to see things. He says I shall lay in the hospital three weeks, may be—that is twenty-one days—und for Morris it is two dollars und ten cents. I got the money." And she fumbled for her purse in various hiding-places about her ample person.
"And you want me to be banker," cried Miss Bailey; "to keep the money and give Morris ten cents a day—is that it?"
"Sure," answered Mrs. Mowgelewsky.
"It's a awful lot of money," grieved Morris. "Ten cents a day is a awful lot of money for one boy."
"No, no, my golden one," cried his mother. "It is but right that thou shouldst have plenty of money, und thy teacher, a Christian lady, though honest—und what neighbor is honest?—will give thee ten cents every morning. Behold, I pay the rent before I go, und with the rent paid und with ten cents a day thou wilt live like a landlord." "Yes, yes," Morris broke in, evidently repeating some familiar warning, "und every day I will say mine prayers und wash me the face, und keep the neighbors out, und on Thursdays und on Sundays I shall go on the hospital for see you."
"And on Saturdays," broke in Miss Bailey, "you will come to my house and spend the day with me. He's too little, Mrs. Mowgelewsky, to go to the synagogue alone." "That could be awful nice," breathed Morris. "I likes I shall go on your house. I am lovin' much mit your dog."
"How?" snorted his mother. "Dogs! Dogs ain't nothing but foolishness. They eats something fierce, und they don't works."
"That iss how mine mamma thinks," Morris hastened to explain, lest the sensitive feelings of his Lady Paramount should suffer. "But mine mamma she never seen yourdog. He iss a awful nice dog; I am lovin' much mit him."
"I don't needs I shall see him," said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, somewhat tartly. "I seen, already, lots from dogs. Don't you go make no foolishness mit him. Don't you go und get chawed off of him." "Of course, of course not," Miss Bailey hastened to assure her; "he will only play with Rover if I should be busy or unable to take him out with me. He'll be safer at my house than he would be on the streets, and you wouldn't expect him to stay in the house all day."
After more parley and many warnings the arrangement was completed. Miss Bailey was intrusted with two dollars and ten cents, and the censorship of Morris. A day or so later Mrs. Mowgelewsky retired, indomitable, to her darkened room in the hospital, and the neighbors were inexorably shut out of her apartment. All their offers of help, all their proffers of advice were politely refused by Morris, all their questions and visits politely dodged. And every morning Miss Bailey handed her Monitor of the Goldfish Bowl his princely stipend, adding to it from time to time some fruit or other uncontaminated food, for Morris was religiously the strictest of the strict, and could have given cards and spades to many a minor rabbi[82-1] on the intricacies of Kosher law.
The Saturday after his mother's departure Morris spent in the enlivening companionship of the antiquated Rover, a collie who no longer roved farther than his own back yard, and who accepted Morris's frank admiration with a noble condescension and a few rheumatic gambols. Miss Bailey's mother was also hospitable, and her sister did what she could to amuse the quaint little child with the big eyes, the soft voice, and the pretty foreign manners. But Morris preferred Rover to any of them, except perhaps the cook, who allowed him to prepare a luncheon for himself after his own little rites.
Everything had seemed so pleasant and so successful that Miss Bailey looked upon a repetition of this visit as a matter of course, and was greatly surprised on the succeeding Friday afternoon when the Monitor of the Goldfish Bowl said that he intended to spend the next day at home.
"Oh, no!" she remonstrated, "you mustn't stay at home. I'm going to take you out to the Park and we are going to have all kinds of fun. Wouldn't you rather go and see the lions and the elephants with me than stay at home all by yourself?"
For some space Morris was a prey to silence, then he managed by a consuming effort:
"I ain't by mineself."
"Has your father come home?" said Teacher.
"No, ma'am."
"And surely it's not a neighbor. You remember what your mother said about the neighbors, how you were not to let them in."
"It ain't neighbors," said Morris.
"Then who——?" began Miss Bailey.
Morris raised his eyes to hers, his beautiful, black, pleading eyes, praying for the understanding and the sympathy which had never failed him yet. "It's a friend," he answered. "Nathan Spiderwitz?" she asked.
Morris shook his head, and gave Teacher to understand that the Monitor of the Window Boxes came under the ban of neighbor.
"Well, who is it, dearest?" she asked again. "Is it any one that I know?"
"No, ma'am."
"None of the boys in the school?"
"No, ma'am." "Have you known him long?" "No, ma'am." "Does your mother know him?"
"Oh, Teacher, no, ma'am! Mine mamma don't know him."
"Well, where did you meet him?"
"Teacher, on the curb. Over yesterday on the night," Morris began, seeing that explanation was inevitable, "I lays on mine bed, und I thinks how mine mamma has got a sickness, und how mine papa is by Harlem, und how I ain't got nobody beside of me. Und, Teacher, it makes me cold in mine heart. So I couldn't to lay no more, so I puts me on mit mine clothes some more, und I goes by the street, the while peoples is there, und I needs I shall see peoples. So I sets by the curb, und mine heart it go und it go so I couldn't to feel how it go in mine inside. Und I thinks on my mamma, how I seen her mit bandages on the face, und mine heart it goes some more. Und, Teacher, Missis Bailey, I cries over it."
"Of course you did, honey," said Teacher, putting her arm about him. "Poor, little, lonely chap! Of course you cried."
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am; it ain't fer boys they shall cry, but I cries over it. Und soon something touches me by mine side, und I turns und mine friend he was sittin' by side of me. Und he don't say nothings, Teacher; no, ma'am; he don't say nothings, only he looks on me, und in his eyes stands tears. So that makes me better in mine heart, und I don't cries no more. I sets und looks on mine friend, und mine friend he sets und looks on me mit smilin' looks. So I goes by mine house, und mine friend he comes by mine house, too, und I lays by mine bed, und mine friend he lays by mine side. Und all times in that night sooner I open mine eyes und thinks on how mine mamma is got a sickness, und mine papa is by Harlem, mine friend he is by mine side, und I don't cries. I don't cries never no more the whiles mine friend is by me. Und I couldn't to go on your house to-morrow the whiles I don't know if mine friend likes Rover."
"Of course he'd like him," cried Miss Bailey. "Rover would play with him just as he plays with you."
"No, ma'am," Morris maintained; "mine friend is too little for play mit Rover."
"Is he such a little fellow?"
"Yiss, ma'am; awful little."
"And has he been with you ever since the day before yesterday?"
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am."
"Does he seem to be happy and all right?"
"Teacher, yiss, ma'am."
"But," asked Miss Bailey, suddenly practical, "what does the poor little fellow eat? Of course ten cents would buy a lot of food for one boy, but not so very much for two."
"Teacher, no, ma'am," says Morris; "it ain't so very much."
"Well, then," said Miss Bailey, "suppose I give you twenty cents a day as long as a little strange friend is with you."
"That could to be awful nice," Morris agreed; "und, Missis Bailey," he went on, "sooner you don't needs all yours lunch mine friend could eat it, maybe."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she cried; "It's ham to-day."
"That don't make nothins mit mine friend," said Morris, "he likes ham."
"Now, Morris," said Miss Bailey very gravely, as all the meanings of this announcement spread themselves before her, "this is a very serious thing. You know how your mother feels about strangers, and you know how she feels about Christians, and what will she say to you—and what will she say to me—when she hears that a strange little Christian is living with you? Of course, dearie, I know it's nice for you to have company, and I know that you must be dreadfully lonely in the long evenings, but I'm afraid your mother will not be pleased to think of your having somebody to stay with you. Wouldn't you rather come to my house and live there all the time until your mother is better. You know," she added as a crowning inducement, "Rover is there." But Morris betrayed no enthusiasm. "I guess," said he, "I ain't lovin' so awful much mit Rover. He iss too big. I am likin' little dogs mit brown eyes, what walks by their legs und carries things by their mouths. Did you ever see dogs like that?"
"In the circus," answered Teacher. "Where did you see them?"
"A boy by our block," answered Morris, "is got one. He is lovin' much mit that dog und that dog is lovin' much mit him."
"Well, now, perhaps you could teach Rover to walk on his hind legs, and carry things in his mouth," suggested Teacher; "and as for this new little Christian friend of yours——"
"I don't know be he a Krisht," Morris admitted with reluctant candor; "he ain't said nothin' over it to me. On'y a Irisher lady what lives by our house, she says mine friend is a Irisher."
"Very well, dear; then of course he's a Christian," Miss Bailey assured him, "and I shan't interfere with you to-morrow—you may stay at home and play with him. But we can't let it go on, you know. This kind of thing never would do when your mother comes back from the hospital. She might not want your friend in the house. Have you thought of that at all, Morris? You must make your friend understand it."
"I tells him," Morris promised; "I don't know can he understand. He's pretty little, only that's how I tells him all times."
"Then tell him once again, honey," Miss Bailey advised, "and make him understand that he must go back to his own people as soon as your mother is well. Where are his own people? I can't understand how any one so little could be wandering about with no one to take care of him."
"Teacher, I'm takin' care of him," Morris pointed out.
All that night and all the succeeding day Miss Bailey's imagination reverted again and again to the two little ones keeping house in Mrs. Mowgelewsky's immaculate apartment. Even increasing blindness had not been allowed to interfere with sweeping and scrubbing and dusting, and when Teacher thought of that patient matron, as she lay in her hospital cot trusting so securely to her Christian friend's guardianship of her son and home, she fretted herself into feeling that it was her duty to go down to Monroe Street and investigate. There was at first no sound when, after climbing endless stairs, she came to Mrs. Mowgelewsky's door. But as the thumping of the heart and the singing in her ears abated somewhat, she detected Morris's familiar treble.
"Bread," it said, "iss awful healthy for you, only you dasn't eat it 'out chewin'. I never in my world seen how you eats."
Although the words were admonitory, they lost all didactic effect by the wealth of love and tenderness which sang in the voice. There was a note of happiness in it, too, a throb of pure enjoyment quite foreign to Teacher's knowledge of this sad-eyed little charge of hers. She rested against the door frame, and Morris went on:"I guess you don't know what iss polite. You shall better come on the school, und Miss Bailey could to learn you what iss polite and healthy fer you. No, you couldn't to have no meat. No, sir! No, ma'am! You couldn't to have no meat 'till I cuts it fer you. You could to, maybe, make yourself a sickness und a bashfulness."
Miss Bailey put her hand on the door and it yielded noiselessly to her touch, and revealed to her guardian eyes her ward and his little friend. They were seated vis-a-vis[89-1] at the table; everything was very neat and clean and most properly set out. A little lamp was burning clearly. Morris's hair was parted for about an inch back from his forehead and sleeked wetly down upon his brow. The guest had evidently undergone similar preparation for the meal. Each had a napkin tied around his neck, and as Teacher watched them, Morris carefully prepared his guest's dinner, while the guest, an Irish terrier, with quick eyes and one down-flopped ear, accepted his admonishings with a good-natured grace, and watched him with an adoring and confiding eye. The guest was first to detect the stranger's presence. He seized a piece of bread in his teeth, jumped to the ground, and walking up to Teacher on his hind legs, hospitably dropped the refreshment at her feet.
"Oh! Teacher! Teacher!" cried Morris, half in dismay at discovery, and half in joy that this so sure confidant should share his secret and appreciate his friend. "Oh! Teacher! Missis Bailey! this is the friend what I was telling you over. See how he walks on his feet! See how he has got smilin' looks! See how he carries somethings by his teeth! All times he makes like that. Rover, he don't carries nothin's, und gold fishes, they ain't got no feet even. On'y Izzie could to make them things."
"Oh, is his name Izzie?" asked Miss Bailey, grasping at this conversational straw and shaking the paw which the stranger was presenting to her. "And this is the friend you told me about? You let me think," she chided, with as much severity as Morris had shown to his Izzie, "that he was a boy."
"I had a 'fraid," said the Monitor of the Gold Fish Bowl frankly.
So had Teacher as she reviewed the situation from Mrs. Mowgelewsky's chair of state, and watched the friends at supper. It was a revelation of solicitude on one side, and patient gratitude on the other. Morris ate hardly anything, and was soon at Teacher's knee—Izzie was in her lap—discussing ways and means.
He refused to entertain any plan which would separate him immediately from Izzie, but he was at last brought to see the sweet reasonableness of preparing his mother's mind by degrees to accept another member to the family.
"Und he eats," his protector was forced to admit—"he eats somethin' fierce, Missis Bailey; as much like a man he eats. Und my mamma, I don't know what she will say. She won't leave me I shall keep him; from long I had a little bit of a dog, und she wouldn't to leave me I should keep him, und he didn't eat so much like Izzie eats, neither."
"And I can't very well keep him," said Miss Bailey sadly, "because, you see, there is Rover. Rover mightn't like it. But there is one thing I can do: I'll keep him for a few days when your mother comes back, and then we'll see, you and I, if we can persuade her to let you have him always."
"She wouldn't never to do it," said Morris sadly. "That other dog, didn't I told you how he didn't eat so much like Izzie, and she wouldn't to let me have him? That's a cinch." "Oh! don't say that word, dear," cried Teacher. "And we can only try. We'll do our very, very best."
This guilty secret had a very dampening effect upon the joy with which Morris watched for his mother's recovery. Upon the day set for her return, he was a miserable battle-field of love and duty. Early in the morning Izzie had been transferred to Miss Bailey's yard. Rover was chained to his house, Izzie was tied to the wall at a safe distance from him, and they proceeded to make the day hideous for the whole neighborhood.
Morris remained at home to greet his mother, received her encomiums, cooked the dinner, and set out for afternoon school with a heavy heart and a heavier conscience. Nothing had occurred in those first hours to show any change in Mrs. Mowgelewsky's opinion of home pets; rather she seemed, in contrast to the mild and sympathetic Miss Bailey, more than ever dictatorial and dogmatic.
At a quarter after three, the gold fish having received perfunctory attention, and the Board of Monitors being left again to do their worst, unguarded, Morris and Teacher set out to prepare Mrs. Mowgelewsky's mind for the adoption of Izzie. They found it very difficult. Mrs. Mowgelewsky, restored of vision, was so hospitable, so festive in her elephantine manner, so loquacious and so self-congratulatory, that it was difficult to insert even the tiniest conversational wedge into the structure of her monologue.
Finally Miss Bailey managed to catch her attention upon financial matters. "You gave me," she said, "two dollars and ten cents, and Morris has managed so beautifully that he has not used it all, and has five cents to return to you. He's a very wonderful little boy, Mrs. Mowgelewsky," she added, smiling at her favorite to give him courage. "He iss a good boy," Mrs. Mowgelewsky admitted. "Don't you get lonesome sometimes by yourself here, huh?"
"Well," said Miss Bailey, "he wasn't always alone."
"No?" queried the matron with a divided attention. She was looking for her purse, in which she wished to stow Morris's surplus.
"No," said Teacher; "I was here once or twice. And then a little friend of his——"
"Friend," the mother repeated with a glare; "was friends here in mine house?"
Miss Bailey began a purposely vague reply, but Mrs. Mowgelewsky was not listening to her. She had searched the pockets of the gown she wore, then various other hiding-places in the region of its waist line, then a large bag of mattress covering which she wore under her skirt. Ever hurriedly and more hurriedly she repeated this performance two or three times, and then proceeded to shake and wring the out-door clothing which she had worn that morning.
"Gott!" she broke out at last, "mine Gott! mine Gott! it don't stands." And she began to peer about the floor with eyes not yet quite adjusted. Morris easily recognized the symptoms. "She's lost her pocket-book," he told Miss Bailey.
"Yes, I lost it," wailed Mrs. Mowgelewsky, and then the whole party participated in the search. Over and under the furniture, the carpets, the bed, the stove, over and under everything in the apartment went Mrs. Mowgelewsky and Morris. All the joy of home-coming and of well-being was darkened and blotted out by this new calamity. And Mrs. Mowgelewsky beat her breast and tore her hair, and Constance Bailey almost wept in sympathy. But the pocket-book was gone, absolutely gone, though Mrs. Mowgelewsky called Heaven and earth to witness that she had had it in her hand when she came in.
Another month's rent was due; the money to pay it was in the pocket-book. Mr. Mowgelewsky had visited his wife on Sunday, and had given her all his earnings as some salve to the pain of her eyes. Eviction, starvation, every kind of terror and disaster were thrown into Mrs. Mowgelewsky's wailing, and Morris proved an able second to his mother.
Miss Bailey was doing frantic bookkeeping in her charitable mind, and was wondering how much of the loss she might replace. She was about to suggest as a last resort that a search should be made of the dark and crannied stairs, where a purse, if the Fates were very, very kind, might lie undiscovered for hours, when a dull scratching made itself heard through the general lamentation. It came from a point far down on the panel of the door, and the same horrible conviction seized upon Morris and upon Miss Bailey at the same moment.
Mrs. Mowgelewsky in her frantic round had approached the door for the one-hundredth time, and with eyes and mind far removed from what she was doing, she turned the handle. And entered Izzie, beautifully erect upon his hind legs, with a yard or two of rope trailing behind him, and a pocket-book fast in his teeth.
Blank, pure surprise took Mrs. Mowgelewsky for its own. She staggered back into a chair, fortunately of heavy architecture, and stared at the apparition before her. Izzie came daintily in, sniffed at Morris, sniffed at Miss Bailey, sniffed at Mrs. Mowgelewsky's ample skirts, identified her as the owner of the pocket-book, laid it at her feet, and extended a paw to be shaken. "Mine Gott!" said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, "what for a dog iss that?" She counted her wealth, shook Izzie's paw, and then stooped forward, gathered him into her large embrace, and cried like a baby. "Mine Gott! Mine Gott!" she wailed again, and although she spent five minutes in apparent effort to evolve another and more suitable remark, her research met with no greater success than the addition:
"He ain't a dog at all; he iss friends."
Miss Bailey had been sent to an eminently good college, and had been instructed long and hard in psychology, so that she knew the psychologic moment when she met it. She now arose with congratulations and farewells. Mrs. Mowgelewsky arose also with Izzie still in her arms. She lavished endearments upon him and caresses upon his short black nose, and Izzie received them all with enthusiastic gratitude.
"And I think," said Miss Bailey in parting, "that you had better let that dog come with me. He seems a nice enough little thing, quiet, gentle, and very intelligent. He can live in the yard with Rover."
Morris turned his large eyes from one to another of his rulers, and Izzie, also good at psychologic moments, stretched out a pointed pink tongue and licked Mrs. Mowgelewsky's cheek. "This dog," said that lady majestically, "iss mine. Nobody couldn't never to have him. When I was in mine trouble, was it mans or was it ladies what takes und gives me mine money back? No! Was it neighbors? No! Was it you, Miss Teacher, mine friend? No! It was that dog. Here he stays mit me. Morris, my golden one, you wouldn't to have no feelin's 'bout mamma havin' dogs? You wouldn't to have mads?"
"No, ma'am," responded her obedient son; "Missis Bailey she says it's fer boys they should make all things what is lovin' mit cats und dogs und horses." "Goot," said his mother; "I guess, maybe, that ain't such a foolishness."
It was not until nearly bedtime that Mrs. Mowgelewsky reverted to that part of Miss Bailey's conversation immediately preceding the discovery of the loss of the purse.
"So-o-oh, my golden one," she began, lying back in her chair with Izzie on her lap—"so-o-oh, you had friends by the house when mamma was by hospital." "On'y one," Morris answered faintly.
"Well, I ain't scoldin'," said his mother. "Where iss your friend? I likes I shall look on him. Ain't he comin' round to-night?"
"No ma'am," answered Morris, settling himself at her side, and laying his head close to his friend. "He couldn't to go out by nights the while he gets adopted off of a lady."
Read more at http://www.kidsgen.com/short_stories/friends.htm#qdyL5kzJe4qJMA78.99
BANKER
Once upon a time there lived a pauper and a banker. The first was as poor as the second was rich. So it was inevitable that the rich man will be happier than the pauper. But their natures were opposite, for the poor man was happy whereas the banker was not. The banker was annoyed of the fact that while he tossed and turned in his bed at night, the pauper slept peacefully and always awoke rested and full of energy.
One day the banker could stand it no longer. He decided to find out why the pauper was a happy man inspite of his poverty. So he summoned him to his house and asked him his yearly income because he believed that happiness could only be measured in terms of wealth.
"I don't count too well, nor do I really care. I live each day as it comes and never worry about the next."
"Well, then, just tell me how much you earn in one day," insisted the rich man.
"I earn what I need. And even that would be too much were it not for all the Sundays and holidays when I must close my shop."
The banker liked the pauper. He wished to thank him for coming to his house, so he presented the poor man with a bag of hundred gold coins.
Now, to the pauper these coins, which meant so little to the banker, seemed a great fortune. He decided to hide the bag, so that he would have the money if ever he should need it. So, when he returned to his house, he dug a big hole in a secluded corner of the garden, threw the bag into it, and covered it with dirt.
But from that day on, the poor man's life changed- he began to worry about the safety of his money. Every night he slept a little less, and each time he heard the slightest sound, he became anxious about the safety of his coins.
Finally, he could bear his unhappiness no longer. He went to the garden, dug up the coins and returned them to the banker.
The pauper had learned an important lesson, and so has the banker.
Read more at http://www.kidsgen.com/short_stories/banker_pauper.htm#te3HdT2Yp7BAFMUk.99
One day the banker could stand it no longer. He decided to find out why the pauper was a happy man inspite of his poverty. So he summoned him to his house and asked him his yearly income because he believed that happiness could only be measured in terms of wealth.
"I don't count too well, nor do I really care. I live each day as it comes and never worry about the next."
"Well, then, just tell me how much you earn in one day," insisted the rich man.
"I earn what I need. And even that would be too much were it not for all the Sundays and holidays when I must close my shop."
The banker liked the pauper. He wished to thank him for coming to his house, so he presented the poor man with a bag of hundred gold coins.
Now, to the pauper these coins, which meant so little to the banker, seemed a great fortune. He decided to hide the bag, so that he would have the money if ever he should need it. So, when he returned to his house, he dug a big hole in a secluded corner of the garden, threw the bag into it, and covered it with dirt.
But from that day on, the poor man's life changed- he began to worry about the safety of his money. Every night he slept a little less, and each time he heard the slightest sound, he became anxious about the safety of his coins.Finally, he could bear his unhappiness no longer. He went to the garden, dug up the coins and returned them to the banker.
The pauper had learned an important lesson, and so has the banker.
Read more at http://www.kidsgen.com/short_stories/banker_pauper.htm#te3HdT2Yp7BAFMUk.99
TOY 4 BIG BOY
Ronit Subramanian was seven years old and he was the tallest student in his class. It made him feel very proud. But when he remembered some of the things he used to do as a small kid, he felt a little shy. He wished his mother would not tell those stories to her friends again and again.
Last week his mother’s old school friend had come to see her. They were meeting after 10 years. Ronit was just back from school but his ears pricked up when he heard his mother say in that goofy tone, “You know what my Ronit used to do as a baby? He used to think everything and everyone was a part of the Subramanian family. So he would call the refrigerator ‘frig Subramanian. And he would call the doggy that curled up on our doormat outside ‘doggy Subramanian’”. Ronit heard his mother’s friend say, “cho chweeeet” and he ran out of the house – without any lunch. “I wish mother would not do these things,” he said for the thousandth time.
That evening his mother showed him the toys and games her friend had got for him. One stuffed dolphin and a game of blocks. Ronit got angry. “These are kids toys, kids toys and games. I am a big boy now. My hero is Spiderman. That’s the toy I want for my birthday this year. Spiderman and the spray that makes the spider web.”
“Are you saying you no longer want your favourite stuffed toy – pepper the doggy?” Ronit’s mother asked. “I don’t want kids toys, I don’t want kids toys and games any more. I am a BIG BOY,” Ronit shouted. ‘Okay, okay, we heard you,” said his parents.
A month later, Ronit’s parents bought him a Spiderman kit for his eighth birthday. They bought him a Spiderman T-shirt and trousers, a shiny Spiderman toy and a glove with a spray bottle attached to it. “Wear the glove and then press the spray button. It will make a web pattern on the wall, Ronit’s father said. Ronit, and even his father, were so excited with the spray that they used it again and again to see who could make a bigger web! There was even a Spiderman cake.
After his friends left, Ronit opened up each gift package. Yesssss! He was a big boy now. He had got so many presents of toys and games and they were all for big boys. He especially like a Lego set that made a battery-powered robot, a snazzy car racing video game, and, best of all, a cool skateboard. Ronit went to sleep clutching the Spiderman. You see he had decided he no longer wanted his favourite stuffed toy, Pepper doggy.
As soon as his head hit the pillow Ronit fell asleep. He now slept in a room of his own. A room with sunny yellow walls. But until yesterday, he had gone to sleep clutching Pepper doggy’s ear. The softness of the toy always made him happy. But Spiderman was a metal toy. It was cold to touch. At night, as Ronit’s blanket slipped down the bed, the cold metal of Spiderman poked him. Ronit dreamt that he was being chased by icy monsters who were out to freeze him into a statue. In his dream he shouted for Pepper. Not finding Pepper, woke up screaming crying.
His mother heard him whimper and came rushing into his room. “I want Pepper. He is my friend. Big boys also have doggy friends” cried Ronit. Pepper has crept back into Ronit’s bed. Every night, Ronit and Pepper have a new adventure. In his dreams, Ronit sees Pepper in a Spiderman outfit. Isn’t that cool?
Last week his mother’s old school friend had come to see her. They were meeting after 10 years. Ronit was just back from school but his ears pricked up when he heard his mother say in that goofy tone, “You know what my Ronit used to do as a baby? He used to think everything and everyone was a part of the Subramanian family. So he would call the refrigerator ‘frig Subramanian. And he would call the doggy that curled up on our doormat outside ‘doggy Subramanian’”. Ronit heard his mother’s friend say, “cho chweeeet” and he ran out of the house – without any lunch. “I wish mother would not do these things,” he said for the thousandth time.
That evening his mother showed him the toys and games her friend had got for him. One stuffed dolphin and a game of blocks. Ronit got angry. “These are kids toys, kids toys and games. I am a big boy now. My hero is Spiderman. That’s the toy I want for my birthday this year. Spiderman and the spray that makes the spider web.” “Are you saying you no longer want your favourite stuffed toy – pepper the doggy?” Ronit’s mother asked. “I don’t want kids toys, I don’t want kids toys and games any more. I am a BIG BOY,” Ronit shouted. ‘Okay, okay, we heard you,” said his parents.
A month later, Ronit’s parents bought him a Spiderman kit for his eighth birthday. They bought him a Spiderman T-shirt and trousers, a shiny Spiderman toy and a glove with a spray bottle attached to it. “Wear the glove and then press the spray button. It will make a web pattern on the wall, Ronit’s father said. Ronit, and even his father, were so excited with the spray that they used it again and again to see who could make a bigger web! There was even a Spiderman cake.
After his friends left, Ronit opened up each gift package. Yesssss! He was a big boy now. He had got so many presents of toys and games and they were all for big boys. He especially like a Lego set that made a battery-powered robot, a snazzy car racing video game, and, best of all, a cool skateboard. Ronit went to sleep clutching the Spiderman. You see he had decided he no longer wanted his favourite stuffed toy, Pepper doggy.
As soon as his head hit the pillow Ronit fell asleep. He now slept in a room of his own. A room with sunny yellow walls. But until yesterday, he had gone to sleep clutching Pepper doggy’s ear. The softness of the toy always made him happy. But Spiderman was a metal toy. It was cold to touch. At night, as Ronit’s blanket slipped down the bed, the cold metal of Spiderman poked him. Ronit dreamt that he was being chased by icy monsters who were out to freeze him into a statue. In his dream he shouted for Pepper. Not finding Pepper, woke up screaming crying. His mother heard him whimper and came rushing into his room. “I want Pepper. He is my friend. Big boys also have doggy friends” cried Ronit. Pepper has crept back into Ronit’s bed. Every night, Ronit and Pepper have a new adventure. In his dreams, Ronit sees Pepper in a Spiderman outfit. Isn’t that cool?
KAKU AND LAL 2
Kaku could not believe how fast Lal Hawa could run. He was sure Lal Hawa had magic wheels. In seconds Lal Hawa could cross him and his big village.
Kaku loved meeting Lal Hawa everyday. He liked the red colour, the fast moving wheels, the waving windows and the chuk-chuk sound, as it moved.
Kaku prayed every night for Lal Hawa to stop at his village just once.
One day he asked his schoolteacher if Lal Hawa could stop at Chotti Dadi. Kaku’s schoolteacher laughed loudly and told him that their village was too small for big and mighty Lal Hawa. Disheartened Kaku decided to ask Amma, his mother, the same question. In the evening, Amma said, "Kaku, just as you want to meet Lal Hawa, even Lala Hawa will want to stop her one day and meet you." Kaku put his arms around Amma and kissed her.
Kaku had made big plans for the day when Lal Hawa would stop at Chotti Dadi. Kaku dreamt of flying on the fast wheels of Lal Hawa. He imagined he was waving to Amma, Jhunjhunu, Pinaki, Tachi and his schoolteacher. He also saved three idlis everyday for the small hands that waved at him from Lal Hawa.
But Lal Hawa never stopped. Every day, Lal Hawa raced past the village lake, leaving Kaku on the small mud hill. He had to sit and finish the idlis alone. Seeing Kaku unhappy, one day Kaku’s mother told his friends Jhunjhunu, Pinaki and Tachi to walk to school with Kaku. Kaku knew he would miss seeing Lal Hawa because his friends walked to school through a shorter way. Kaku asked Amma if he could walk to school alone for just one more day, and see Lal Hawa one last time. Amma agreed, and explained to Kaku that when he was older he could go to the big station in town to meet Lal Hawa.
The next morning, a pleasant breeze welcomed Kaku as he walked to school. He went past the green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground. Kaku walked slowly. He was sad. Today was the last time he would wave to Lal Hawa. As he walked, he heard the distant sound of Lal Hawa ….chuk-chuk-chuk. Kaku started walking faster. Like always, he started running to the beat of Lal Hawa's chuck-chuk and started whistling "cooooo: just like Lal hawa whistled.
He could see big and mighty Lal Hawa approaching as he reached the small Hill. It was fast and red. Kaku closed his eyes and started praying that Lal Hawa, his dear friend, would stop. The powerful breeze that blew every time lal Hawa came, stopped. Kaku’s eyes were still closed but his ears could not hear the chuk-chuk of Lal Hawa. Startled, he opened his eyes. There, right in front of him, Lal Hawa, so red and so big, had stopped. Kaku could not believe it. He closed his eyes shut and opened them, quickly. That's when he heard the noise coming from the village. Everyone was running towards Lal Hawa, shouting and cheering. He could see his schoolteacher, Amma, Tachi, Jhunjhunu, Pinaki and the old retired railway guard hurrying towards Lal Hawa. Lal Hawa had stopped at Chhoti Dadi and was waiting for Kaku to meet her.
Lal Hawa whistled aloud, Kaku laughed and whistled back. Quickly, he picked up his tiffin box with the idlis and coconut chutney and climbed onto Lal Hawa. And, just then, as if it had been waiting just for for Kaku, Lal Hawa chuk-chuked again. The slow chuk-chuk sound became faster and by the time Amma reached the train tracks, Lal Hawa was flying on magic wheels with Kaku inside it. Amma smiled. She had tears in her eyes seeing Kaku so happy. From a window, Kaku waved to everyone. Lal Hawa was flying and so was Kaku!
Kaku loved meeting Lal Hawa everyday. He liked the red colour, the fast moving wheels, the waving windows and the chuk-chuk sound, as it moved.
Kaku prayed every night for Lal Hawa to stop at his village just once.
One day he asked his schoolteacher if Lal Hawa could stop at Chotti Dadi. Kaku’s schoolteacher laughed loudly and told him that their village was too small for big and mighty Lal Hawa. Disheartened Kaku decided to ask Amma, his mother, the same question. In the evening, Amma said, "Kaku, just as you want to meet Lal Hawa, even Lala Hawa will want to stop her one day and meet you." Kaku put his arms around Amma and kissed her.Kaku had made big plans for the day when Lal Hawa would stop at Chotti Dadi. Kaku dreamt of flying on the fast wheels of Lal Hawa. He imagined he was waving to Amma, Jhunjhunu, Pinaki, Tachi and his schoolteacher. He also saved three idlis everyday for the small hands that waved at him from Lal Hawa.
But Lal Hawa never stopped. Every day, Lal Hawa raced past the village lake, leaving Kaku on the small mud hill. He had to sit and finish the idlis alone. Seeing Kaku unhappy, one day Kaku’s mother told his friends Jhunjhunu, Pinaki and Tachi to walk to school with Kaku. Kaku knew he would miss seeing Lal Hawa because his friends walked to school through a shorter way. Kaku asked Amma if he could walk to school alone for just one more day, and see Lal Hawa one last time. Amma agreed, and explained to Kaku that when he was older he could go to the big station in town to meet Lal Hawa.
The next morning, a pleasant breeze welcomed Kaku as he walked to school. He went past the green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground. Kaku walked slowly. He was sad. Today was the last time he would wave to Lal Hawa. As he walked, he heard the distant sound of Lal Hawa ….chuk-chuk-chuk. Kaku started walking faster. Like always, he started running to the beat of Lal Hawa's chuck-chuk and started whistling "cooooo: just like Lal hawa whistled.
He could see big and mighty Lal Hawa approaching as he reached the small Hill. It was fast and red. Kaku closed his eyes and started praying that Lal Hawa, his dear friend, would stop. The powerful breeze that blew every time lal Hawa came, stopped. Kaku’s eyes were still closed but his ears could not hear the chuk-chuk of Lal Hawa. Startled, he opened his eyes. There, right in front of him, Lal Hawa, so red and so big, had stopped. Kaku could not believe it. He closed his eyes shut and opened them, quickly. That's when he heard the noise coming from the village. Everyone was running towards Lal Hawa, shouting and cheering. He could see his schoolteacher, Amma, Tachi, Jhunjhunu, Pinaki and the old retired railway guard hurrying towards Lal Hawa. Lal Hawa had stopped at Chhoti Dadi and was waiting for Kaku to meet her.
Lal Hawa whistled aloud, Kaku laughed and whistled back. Quickly, he picked up his tiffin box with the idlis and coconut chutney and climbed onto Lal Hawa. And, just then, as if it had been waiting just for for Kaku, Lal Hawa chuk-chuked again. The slow chuk-chuk sound became faster and by the time Amma reached the train tracks, Lal Hawa was flying on magic wheels with Kaku inside it. Amma smiled. She had tears in her eyes seeing Kaku so happy. From a window, Kaku waved to everyone. Lal Hawa was flying and so was Kaku!
kaku and lal
Kaku lived in a small village called Chhoti Dadi. The small village had a small school. Everyday Kaku had to walk from his little hut at one end of the village to the primary school near the village well. On his way to school, he passed through green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground. All his friends, be it dreamy Jhunjhunu, colorful Pinaki or talkative Tachi, did not like walking to school.
But Kaku loved the long walk to school. He had made a new friend on his way. Sun or rain, Kaku would walk to school. Kaku’s mother was very happy that Kaku loved school so much. She did not know about her son's BIG new friend. Kaku had told no one. No one knew why he loved walking past the green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground to reach school. No one knew Kaku’s little BIG secret on the way to school. Kaku wanted to keep this friend a secret. He thought his friends might make fun of him.
Every morning Kaku got up before the neighbour’s cock could bellow its loud and shrill cuck-a-doo-coo. Kaku would be ready in his neatly ironed blue and mustard-coloured school uniform, eagerly waiting for his tiffin box. As soon as he got his favorite rice idlis and coconut chutney, he would run out of the house. Kaku left home as early as 6:30 in the morning to meet his friend, whom he called Lal Hawa.
As he crossed the paddy fields, the soft chuk-chuk sound greeted Kaku. Kaku was happiest when he heard Lal Hawa coming. Kaku knew that he got the best view of Lal Hawa from a small mud hill near the village lake. As the chuk-chuk sound got louder Kaku walked faster. He knew the trick. He timed his running with the chuk-chuk sound of Lal Hawa. On every chuk-chuk of Lal Hawa, Kaku took a swift step forward through the paddy fields towards the lake.
Kaku knew the exact point when the red, speeding Lal Hawa would whistle. Now, with practice, he could match his whistle with the loud whistle of Lal Hawa. Kaku knew, Lal Hawa said, “Hello”, in her language when she whistled. Kaku whistled back, welcoming Lal Hawa.
He ran through the paddy field doing chuk-chuk-chuk-chuk-koooooooooooooo... As he reached the lake, in a moment, the huge engine came towards him. As Lal Hawa approached, a powerful wind started blowing. Kaku’s hair flew from his forehead into his eyes. His blue and mustard school dress fluttered, like a kite flying in the morning sky.
Standing on the small hill, Kaku saw Lal Hawa become bigger and bigger. In seconds, Lal Hawa covered the whole blue sky as it chugged towards Kaku. Kaku was jumping with joy. He clapped and waved as Lal Hawa chuk-chuk-ed past him. He waved till the very end. Small-unknown hands waved back from the windows of Lal Hawa. As Kaku eyes followed the red train, he saw small hands waving to him. He ran along with Lal Hawa waving back at the small hands.
But Kaku loved the long walk to school. He had made a new friend on his way. Sun or rain, Kaku would walk to school. Kaku’s mother was very happy that Kaku loved school so much. She did not know about her son's BIG new friend. Kaku had told no one. No one knew why he loved walking past the green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground to reach school. No one knew Kaku’s little BIG secret on the way to school. Kaku wanted to keep this friend a secret. He thought his friends might make fun of him.Every morning Kaku got up before the neighbour’s cock could bellow its loud and shrill cuck-a-doo-coo. Kaku would be ready in his neatly ironed blue and mustard-coloured school uniform, eagerly waiting for his tiffin box. As soon as he got his favorite rice idlis and coconut chutney, he would run out of the house. Kaku left home as early as 6:30 in the morning to meet his friend, whom he called Lal Hawa.
As he crossed the paddy fields, the soft chuk-chuk sound greeted Kaku. Kaku was happiest when he heard Lal Hawa coming. Kaku knew that he got the best view of Lal Hawa from a small mud hill near the village lake. As the chuk-chuk sound got louder Kaku walked faster. He knew the trick. He timed his running with the chuk-chuk sound of Lal Hawa. On every chuk-chuk of Lal Hawa, Kaku took a swift step forward through the paddy fields towards the lake.
Kaku knew the exact point when the red, speeding Lal Hawa would whistle. Now, with practice, he could match his whistle with the loud whistle of Lal Hawa. Kaku knew, Lal Hawa said, “Hello”, in her language when she whistled. Kaku whistled back, welcoming Lal Hawa.
He ran through the paddy field doing chuk-chuk-chuk-chuk-koooooooooooooo... As he reached the lake, in a moment, the huge engine came towards him. As Lal Hawa approached, a powerful wind started blowing. Kaku’s hair flew from his forehead into his eyes. His blue and mustard school dress fluttered, like a kite flying in the morning sky.
Standing on the small hill, Kaku saw Lal Hawa become bigger and bigger. In seconds, Lal Hawa covered the whole blue sky as it chugged towards Kaku. Kaku was jumping with joy. He clapped and waved as Lal Hawa chuk-chuk-ed past him. He waved till the very end. Small-unknown hands waved back from the windows of Lal Hawa. As Kaku eyes followed the red train, he saw small hands waving to him. He ran along with Lal Hawa waving back at the small hands.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)