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This story is continued from a previous story My Own! My Own!
A Comforting Aunt
” There they are!” said Bobbie.
Yes, there they were! Grandma, and Aunties Lucy, Lil and Rachel and two children!
” Grace and Geoff!” cried Ivy, peeping over Bobbie’s head.
The four woebegone dolls, just a bit less woebegone now they were dry, had weighed frightfully on Ivy’s mind all the morning, but the appearance of Grace and Geoff drove the dolls right out of their thoughts. She and Bobbie went downstairs like two whirlwinds and reached the garden gate just as the six visitors had unpacked themselves from a motor.
Very soon Grandma and the Aunties had established themselves in the kitchen to watch and to help mother, and the four children were left to their own devices. They felt a little shy as they stood staring at one another in the spare bedroom. It was a long time since they had met, and the remembrance of the four dolls rushed over Ivy. Here was someone else who would see those woebegone washed dolls, and no doubt the story of her self – will and foolishness would go around to all the other families of the cousins!
Just at that minute Geoff put his overcoat on the bed right on top of Aunt Lucy’s best hat. Gracie screamed at him, and, having rescued the hat, she suddenly put it on her own head and went to look at herself in the glass. She was very fond of finery and of a looking glass.
” I say! Let’s dress up in all the Aunties’ things!” said she.
Geoff and Bobbie each seized a hat, and Ivy slipped Auntie Lil’s handsome cape over her shoulders. Then she let it slide off on to the floor. “What fun!” she said, ” but I s’pose I had better ask mother!”
She ran down. “Oh, all right! ” said all the Aunties.
” Not my things!” said Grandma, “certainly not. ”
Ivy ran up again. She really had wanted to see herself in Grandma’s bonnet! And actually, there was Gracie standing before the glass with Grandma’s bonnet on!
” We can have the Aunties’ things, but not Grandma’s,” Ivy reported. ” You must take that off at once, Gracie!”
Gracie tossed it off, and Ivy, resisting the temptation to put it on for one minute, laid it carefully on the pillow out of harm’s way. As she turned round again Auntie Lil’s face peeped in at the door.
” Your mother says you may have anything of hers to dress up in!”
Ivy flew to hug her. ” Come in to the Nursery for a minute,” whispered Auntie Lil. ” I want to talk about your birthday. How are the dollies?”
Ivy turned crimson. She pulled Auntie Lil into the Nursery.
“Oh, Auntie! ” she said, and her eyes were full of tears.
” What! Have you broken them all? What is the matter, old lady?”
” They are not broken!” whispered Ivy, “but—.” She opened the toy cupboard and beckoned to Auntie to look in. “I don’t want anybody else to see.”
There sat the four dolls in a row. ” I washed them,” explained Ivy. ” I knew it was naughty, but I wanted to so much!”
Auntie Lil put her arm tight round Ivy. She quite understood. With the other hand she lifted out the doll she had herself given Ivy.
” Yes! It is a pity!” she said. ” you have made the clothes very nicely, darling! I’ll take this and cheer it up a bit! Find me a sheet of paper!”
” Oh, I hope Aunt Lucy won’t ask to see her’s,” sighed Ivy.
” Oh, I daresay she won’t,” said Auntie Lil cheerfully. ” I’ll help you out if she does. Poor old thing! we all make mistakes sometimes! Now run back to the other children, I have promised to set the cloth for dinner!”
Ivy hugged her again. ” You are a darling, Auntie!” she cried.
The Egg Party
Jerry was playing with the rabbits at the bottom of the garden.
It was his birthday, and he played with one eye on the rabbits and one eye on the lane, down which he hoped to see the bobbing head of the Postman.
The Postman’s head always bobbed above the edge in a ridiculous manner. Failing to actually see the Postman, Jerry hoped to hear the door-bell go ding-ding-ding. Then suddenly the door-bell did go.
Away went Jerry, legs and arms flying. He forgot everything in the world except the Postman. So he forgot to shut the rabbit-hutch door. Pa Rabbit himself did not notice it but a minute or two not did Ma Rabbit. Son Rabbit thought there was something unusual about it, however, and he peeped out and tumbled head over heels on to the ground, and much surprised himself and his papa and his mamma. Then in a tick all of them were out in the grass, then they went through the hedge and up the hillside, their heads bobbing in a far more ridiculous way than the Postman’s head.
By the time Jerry had got his parcel the Rabbit family were up in the woods looking for a new house. Jerry cried quarts of years, but the Rabbits laughed and tossed their tails for joy.
They found a delightful house under a tree, but they were disappointed that the Rabbits who lived under the other trees were not very neighbourly.
“It all comes,” said Pa Rabbit, ” of the unfortunate time tat wet have spent add prisoners in that wretched hutch. They are shy of us. What shall we do? Shan we move away and find another home? ”
“Certainly not!” replied Ma Rabbit. “We will give a little Party and invite all our neighbours. ”
“Good! Good! ” cried Son Rabbit, “let us have Coloured Eggs like Jerry had. I airways wanted one of those. I forget what they called them. ”
“Easter Eggs, “relief Ma Rabbit. “I remember how Mrs. Cochin China Hen clucked about the way Jerry painted one of her eggs red. She was red in the face with temper over it. ‘My beautiful brown egg, ‘ she said. ”
“That is a splendid idea, ” said Pa Rabbit. “I will paint eggs. I feel the feelings of an artist in me. Get me some paint, and I will paint eggs. You can ask the neighbours and arrange a nice Party. ”
“What can I do? ” cried Son Rabbit.
“You can stand beside me and hold my paint brushes,” said his Papa.
“You can run errands for me, “said his Mamma.
But Son Rabbit did not think either the one or the other all that interesting. After holding paints for ten minutes he felt the feelings of an Artist.
“I am going to have some paint and paint eggs,” he announced, “it will be a slow job with only one Artist at it. ”
Ma Rabbit also thought it a slow job, and she would not begin on jellies and tarts and sandwiches for the Party.
Nor would she send out invitations to the neighbours till the eggs were all painted. This fired Pa and Son Rabbit with wonderful energy. They worked in the back verandah, and very soon became conscious that they were watched by scores of bright little eyes.
By and by a gay little Miss Rabbit came along.
“Would you sell those pretty things,” she said. She looked so shy and sweet that Son Rabbit feel in love with her at once. But The Egg Party
Jerry was playing with the rabbits at the bottom of the garden.
It was his birthday, and he played with one eye on the rabbits and one eye on the lane, down which he hoped to see the bobbing head of the Postman.
The Postman’s head always bobbed above the edge in a ridiculous manner. Failing to actually see the Postman, Jerry hoped to hear the door-bell go ding-ding-ding. Then suddenly the door-bell did go.
Away went Jerry, legs and arms flying. He forgot everything in the world except the Postman. So he forgot to shut the rabbit-hutch door. Pa Rabbit himself did not notice it but a minute or two nor did Ma Rabbit. Son Rabbit thought there was something unusual about it, however, and he peeped out and tumbled head over heels on to the ground, and much surprised himself and his papa and his mamma. Then in a tick all of them were out in the grass, then they went through the hedge and up the hillside, their heads bobbing in a far more ridiculous way than the Postman’s head.
By the time Jerry had got his parcel the Rabbit family were up in the woods looking for a new house. Jerry cried quarts of tears, but the Rabbits laughed and tossed their tails for joy.
They found a delightful house under a tree, but they were disappointed that the Rabbits who lived under the other trees were not very neighbourly.
“It all comes,” said Pa Rabbit, “of the unfortunate time that we have spent as prisoners in that wretched hutch. They are shy of us. What shall we do? Shall we move away and find another home? ”
“Certainly not!” replied Ma Rabbit. “We will give a little Party and invite all our neighbours. ”
“Good! Good! ” cried Son Rabbit, “let us have Coloured Eggs like Jerry had. I always wanted one of those. I forget what they called them. ”
“Easter Eggs,” replied Ma Rabbit. “I remember how Mrs. Cochin China Hen clucked about the way Jerry painted one of her eggs red. She was red in the face with temper over it. ‘My beautiful brown egg, ‘ she said. ”
“That is a splendid idea, ” said Pa Rabbit. “I will paint eggs. I feel the feelings of an artist in me. Get me some paint, and I will paint eggs. You can ask the neighbours and arrange a nice Party. ”
“What can I do? ” cried Son Rabbit.
“You can stand beside me and hold my paint brushes,” said his Papa.
“You can run errands for me, ” said his Mamma.
But Son Rabbit did not think either the one or the other all that interesting. After holding paints for ten minutes he felt the feelings of an Artist.
“I am going to have some paint and paint eggs,” he announced, “it will be a slow job with only one Artist at it. ”
Ma Rabbit also thought it a slow job, and she would not begin on jellies and tarts and sandwiches for the Party.
Nor would she send out invitations to the neighbours till the eggs were all painted. This fired Pa and Son Rabbit with wonderful energy. They worked in the back verandah, and very soon became conscious that they were watched by scores of bright little eyes.
By and by a gay little Miss Rabbit came along.
“Would you sell those pretty things,” she said. She looked so shy and sweet that Son Rabbit fell in love with her at once. But he had to say “No! ” he dared not tell her about the Egg Party, he knew Ma Rabbit would not have the Party if he did.
But one day Ma Rabbit counted up the Eggs and began to make her jellies and cakes, and Pa and Son Rabbit were allowed to take out invitations. Of course Son Rabbit took little Miss Rabbit’s invitation himself.
“You will be sure and come, won’t you? ” he said. And little Miss Rabbit said “Yes! I’ll be sure and come! ”
The Story Writer
” Can’t I go too?” wailed Jeanie.
” No, you can’t! You are too little!” came in a chorus from the other five. They were going for a run down the hill, over the Common and up the hill again.
Reggie and Cecil, Georgie and Dora made the horses, and Rose took the reins, and away they went.
Jeanie felt very sad. She wandered about and then spied a piece of lined paper and a pen and ink.
” THE WITCH. NOT A TRUE STORY. ”
” Once there was a Witch. Like all witches she was bad and cruel and ugly. If she caught anybody she would turn them into something. One day she was walking in the woods, when she found a little girl. She took her back to her hut. When she got there she waved her wand and the little girl was turned into an ant. And she could never recover unless her cat could catch a mouse which was nibbling the Witch’s cheese. And if the match went on, the Witch would not have any food.”
Jeanie stopped. It was written in capitals, and had taken her a long time. It wanted an ending, but she did not know quite how to end it up.
There were the five home again! Rose hunting thinking. She sat down by Jeanie and read her story.
” I don’t know the ending,” said Jeanie.
” I do!” said Rose. ” The little girl promised to bring back her cat if the Witch would turn her into a little girl again. The witch did so, and the little girl kept her word. The Cat caught a mouse, and the Witch said, ” I won’t be bad anymore. I will be a good fairy.”
” That’s lovely!” said Jeanie.
I love, love, LOVE this next one, especially the last point! Never pass off others’ interests as unimportant. We can learn from practically everyone if we step out of our own boxes!
East and West
When we see anything Japanese nowadays, our minds fly away to the great, great earthquake of September, 1923 which laid in ruins the two greatest cities in Japan.
There are many books written by travellers to Japan, and they all tell the same tales of the houses with paper screens for walls, the paper lanterns that are carried by the firemen when they go to put out a fire, and the paper string which is used to tie the bamboo rungs to the bamboo ladders which the firemen carry.
Paper, wood, bamboo and paint! Was it any wonder that when the great, great earthquake shook down the flimsy houses, they all caught fire, and the fire as it swept through every street and every alley was more awful than the earthquake. The fear of earthquake and fires is ever with Japan, but the Japanese children are happy little children. The little girls have to begin work early. Their work is to make the baby brother or sister happy! The baby is tied onto the back of the little sister, who is very often not much bigger than the baby, and the sister skips and plays ball, while the baby’s head nods with every movement.
The Japanese parents are very proud of their children, and very fond too. Every year there is a special Festival time for girls and another special Festival for boys. The parents are very anxious for their children to be educated as the children of the Western countries are. A traveller tells how he was specially interested in a class of thirty-five girls, from ten to thirteen years old, and taught by an American lady. The girls wrote excellent English on a blackboard, and one of them, Little Miss Tomila, recited in a sweet low voice and with a delicious little accent, ” I am hungry, very hungry, said the spider to the fly.”
The great thing which a Japanese woman is expected to learn, is something not thought much of in Europe and America.
It is wrapped up in the word Obedience. Obedience, if a daughter to her father, if a wife to her husband, if a widow to her eldest son. Another virtue of great value in Japanese eyes is Politeness. When guests arrive, say to dinner, various objects are handed to them to amuse them – – – a curio or two, or photographs, it does not matter what it is, but it is necessary for the visitor to show and express interest and admiration in the things offered for his amusement by the host.
This virtue of Politeness might well be more apparent among our English boys and girls. Not as in insincerity, but by showing a real sympathy and interest in that which is of interest in other people’s eyes.
If we want to pass through life with the best and truest politeness, we must take as much sympathetic interest in the washerwoman’s soap suds, or the sweep’s soot, as we should like to get for our share in the hockey team’s success, or our adventures as goalkeeper in the football match.
Obedience and Politeness! How many boys and girls in our own country are learning such lessons? Not at all! Oh no! A few perhaps! Are you?
