The Book of Betty Barber

The Finding of the Book

THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER

CHAPTER I

THE FINDING OF THE BOOK

“What is it?” said the Major.

“I think it’s a book,” said Good little Lucy.

“Pull it out, and let us have a look at it,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

And then the three pulled and tugged, scraped away dead leaves, pulled again, and at last, out of a hole at the foot of the hollow trunk of the tree came a book, quite small, rather old and torn, untidy inside and out, only a school exercise-book.

“H‘m, don’t think that is much of a find,” said Miss Crimson Lake, ”and look at my hands, I’ve made them so dirty.” She was a dainty young lady, dressed in the pinkest of pink dresses, but her cheeks were even pinker than her dress.

“It may be a great treasure,” said Lucy.

“It’s rather a stupid book, I fancy,” said the Major, “I don’t see a note of music in it.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Lucy, who had been turning over the pages, “I believe it is a very interesting book, and a sensible one too. Listen to this, ‘All grown-up people are stupid.’”

“That sounds sensible enough,” said Major C. “Don’t interrupt,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“‘I suppose I shall be stupid too when I grow up,” read Lucy, “so I mean to write down in this book the things I like, then when I am grown up, I shall know what my children will like3.’”

“But who is writing it?” asked Miss Crimson Lake. “A child, of course, but is it a boy or girl?”

“Look if the book has a name,” said Major C.

“None outside,” said Lucy examining the cover.

“Then look inside,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“Ah, yes, here it is,” said Lucy, “on the very first page, and there are two names. How I wish I had two!” and Lucy sighed a deep, deep sigh.

“Well, what does it say?” asked Miss Crimson Lake.

“Yes, what does it say?” said Major C.

“It says, ‘This is the book of Betty Barber,’” said Lucy, “‘Betty Barber,’ what a beautiful name?”

“Hullo, Lucy, where is your work?” called a loud voice, as a boy dressed in black and white came running down one of the paths through the wood towards the tree. “Don’t we all know that you are

‘The fair little girl who sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see3.’”

“But you seem to forget that

‘I’ve smoothed my work and folded it right, And said, “Dear work, good-night, good-night!”’

this time,” laughed Lucy.

“What have you got there?” asked the boy, and he snatched the book out of Lucy’s hands.

“What a rude fellow!” whispered Miss Crimson Lake, “who is he?”

“Only a fraction,” said Lucy. “Give me the book back, Thirteen-fourteenths.”

“A curious signature,” murmured Major C, who had been staring at the newcomer’s strange dress, which was covered with figures. His jacket was white, his knickerbockers black, a broad black sash was tied round his waist. Both jacket and knickerbockers seemed to be made of small pieces, and on each piece was worked a number. The jacket was covered with black figures, andthe knickerbockers showed white figures all over them.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the Major, “but might I ask, I don’t quite understand—Thirteen-fourteenths. Fourteen what? Would you explain?”

“Give me the book, and I’ll introduce you to the Major,” said Lucy.

“Shan’t give you the book,” said the Fraction, taking no notice of the Major, for he loved to tease small girls.

“I'll reduce you,” cried Lucy.

“You can’t,” shouted the Fraction.

“I’ll turn you into decimals,” said Lucy.

Without another word the Fraction dropped the book, and fell on his knees at Lucy’s feet.

“Don’t,” he said, “don’t. You know I want to be a whole number again so badly; I want to get my new dress.”

“Never mind, I didn’t mean it,” said Lucy. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt a rook, would you?” said the Fraction, “though a number did fly over your head crying, ‘Caw, caw, caw,’ on their way to bed.”

“Hurt my rooks! No, indeed!” cried Lucy.

“But tell me who this old boy, I mean this old gentleman is,” said the Fraction, picking himself up, “and I should be pleased to know the name of the charming young lady.”

“Major C, this is Thirteen-fourteenths,” said Lucy. “Major C is one of a large family much honoured in Music Land—the Scales—Major C Scale.” Major C bowed politely, and, being a stately old gentleman, he could bow very politely.

“Thirteen-fourteenths, from Sum Land,” said Lucy, “is an old friend of mine, and a bit of a tease, but really a very well-meaning3”

“There, there, better soon,” said the Fraction. Then he whispered quickly, “Don’t forget the young lady in pink. Is she a friend of yours from Rhyme Land? Which is her piece of poetry?”

“So sorry,” said Lucy, “this is Miss Crimson Lake, from Paint Land—Thirteen-fourteenths.”

The Fraction made his very best bow, but Miss Crimson Lake, who had picked up the book and was turning over the leaves, did not trouble to curtsey; she only gave a slight nod, and murmured something about “a vulgar fraction, I think.”

“We were reading this book, you know,” said Lucy quickly, “the Book of Betty Barber.”

“Rather a stupid book,” said the Major, “a bit dull.”

“Oh, do you think so?” said Miss Crimson Lake, smiling. “There’s something about you on this page. Listen to this: ‘I think C Major is very dull.’ I suppose she means Major C,” and Miss Lake began to giggle.

“Hoity-toity,” said the Major, getting red in the face.

Miss Lake went on reading quickly, “‘I shall let my children play C Major sometimes with sharps and flats, sometimes without sharps and flats.’”

“Did ever any one3” began the Major.

“One for you, my friend,” said the Fraction, laughing.

“Absurd! Ridiculous! Pre-pos-ter-ous!” cried the Major, getting more and more angry every minute. “Sharps and flats, indeed! Betty Barber! Stuff and rubbish! Fiddlestick-ends!”

“And here’s something about me,” said Miss Crimson Lake, who was trying to hide her smiles in the book. “What a sensible child she is!”

“Sensible child!” shouted the Major. “Pre-pos-ter-ous child!” and he began marching round and round the tree.

Lucy ran and peeped over Miss Crimson Lake’s shoulder.

“‘I shall let my children paint all day long,’” she read from the book.

Miss Crimson Lake was dimpling and smiling to herself. “What a bright, clever child!” she said. “How seldom one finds a child who really knows how beautiful I and my charming relatives are. I must show this book to Prussian Blue and Gamboge.”

“Stuff and rubbish! Pre-pos-ter-ous!” shouted the Major.

“I believe she says something about you,” said Miss Crimson Lake to Lucy.

“Something pleasant about ‘good little Lucy,’” said the Fraction, “and something unpleasant about me, I expect.”

“I read the first few lines,” said Miss Lake, “but I don’t think they struck me as altogether flattering.”

“Here is the page,” said the Fraction. “I’ll read it out: ‘As for pieces of poetry, I shall teach my children sense, not nonsense. I think “Good-night and Good Morning,” that piece about “Good little Lucy,” is nonsense, and there is too much of it; at least three too many verses. Who wants to know that

“The horses neighed and the oxen lowed,”

or that “The sheep’s bleat, bleat, came over the road, All seeming to say with a quiet delight, Good little girl, good-night! good-night!” and whoever in this world saw “A tall pink foxglove bow his head,” or “A violet curtsey and go to bed?”

It is rubbish. No piece of poetry ought to have more than three verses, and I, for one, am heartily sick of “Good Little Lucy.”’”

“I thought it was not quite pleasant,” murmured Miss Crimson Lake.

Lucy sat down under the tree, and looked very much as if she were going to cry.

The Major stopped his march to stare at her.

“Hullo,” he said, “what’s the matter with you?”

“She says that I am nonsense, that I ought only to have three verses, and that she’s sick of me,” said Lucy faintly.

“Oh, she does, does she?” said Major C, “then that only shows she doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Indeed it does,” said the Fraction, “sick of good little Lucy, and her rooks and horses and violets3”

‘May I ask,” interrupted Miss Crimson Lake, who began to think that she was forgotten, “may I ask if anybody spoke to you?”

The Fraction was about to answer angrily, but the Major stopped him.

“The fact of the matter is,” he said, “this book of Betty Barber’s is nonsense, and it should be torn to pieces.”

“Hear, hear!” shouted the Fraction. ‘Tear it up, tear it up, I’ll help.”

He seized one cover, the Major grasped the other, and the Book of Betty Barber was nearly in two, when Lucy jumped up from the ground with a cry, and held up her hand.

“Don’t,” she said, “don’t. You mustn’t. She won’t like the book torn up. She does not think it is nonsense, or she would not have hidden it so carefully in this tree. She will be sorry if it is torn up. Please don’t tear it up.”

Thirteen-fourteenths dropped his half of the cover, but the Major still held on to his.

“It is all stuff and rubbish,” said the Major.

“It is nothing of the kind,” said Miss Crimson Lake, “it is sound good sense.”

“It is nonsense,” said the Fraction, leaning forward to seize the cover again. “The proper place for that book is Nonsense Land.”

“But don’t tear it up,” said Lucy, “please don’t.”

You shall not tear it up,”’ said Miss Crimson Lake.

That would have decided the question, and the Book of Betty Barber would have been torn in bits, but at that moment from the branches of the tree overhead came peal after peal of laughter.

The Major dropped the book and looked inquiringly at the others.

“Bother,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “what do they want? They always make mischief, and do harm. I’m off, I can’t stand them. Come along, all of you.”

Thirteen-fourteenths bounded away, but none of the others followed him.

Lucy had taken a seat upon the book to protect it. Major C was smiling pleasantly at the three charming Fairies who were peeping through the branches and smiling back at him; and Miss Crimson Lake was too busy wondering who the new arrivals could be, to think of following Thirteen-fourteenths.

“Who are they?” she whispered to Lucy.

“How do you do, how do you do?” called one of the Fairies.

“Playing at Mulberry Bush?” called another.

“Let us join in the fun,” called the third. “We love fun.”

“Rather,” said the first.

“Now then, look out everybody,” called the second.

And the three Fairies tumbled out of the tree, one on the top of the other, knocking off Major C’s hat, and pulling Miss Crimson Lake’s pretty hair.

“Don’t,” said Miss Crimson Lake crossly.

“Now, my dear young lady,” said one of the Fairies, “don’t lose your temper, and don’t get annoyed with one of your best friends. We are the Holiday Fairies. I’m Christmas, you must know, and these are my sisters, Easter and Summer.”

The Three Fairies curtseyed prettily, one after the other.

“If it were not for us,” continued Christmas, “the children would not have much time for you.”

“But I don’t like my hair pulled,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“Only fun, my dear,” said Summer.

“And fun, my love, is the best thing in the world,” said Easter.

“The only thing in the world,” said Christmas.

“We love fun,” they shouted in chorus.

Then they began chasing one another round the tree, laughing all the time.

For a few moments the Major watched them quietly, then he could not keep still, and began playing too, and after a little time even Miss Crimson Lake smiled and began to think of joining in the fun. Suddenly all the Fairies stopped in front of Lucy.

“She’s at it again,” said Summer.

“Tiresome girl!” said Easter.

“Let us shake her,” said Christmas.

In spite of all the noise and laughter, Lucy, still sitting on the book, was fast asleep.

“Leave her alone,” said the Major. “Perhaps she’s tired.”

“She always does it,” said Summer.

“Always,” said Easter.

“Whenever we come near her she goes to sleep,” said Christmas.

“We will shake the bothering thing,” they cried.

But the Major placed himself in front of Lucy to protect her.

“You must leave her alone,” he said. “She isn’t quite happy to-day, she’s been hurt.”

“Broken leg, sprained ankle, bumps, bruises?” asked Christmas. “We are quite used to those, and we don’t like them. For some reason or other if they occur too often the children get tired of us.”

“No, it’s her feelings that are hurt,” said the Major. “The fact of the matter is, we found the Book of Betty Barber.”

The Fairies interrupted him with shouts of laughter.

“Betty Barber! Capital girl!” said Easter.

“So fond of fun,” said Christmas.

“Where’s the book?” asked Summer.

“Well, really,” said the Major looking round.

“She’s sitting on it,” said Miss Crimson Lake, “but you must see it, it is such a sensible book.”

“So pre-pos-ter-ous,” fumed the Major.

The Fairies began to laugh again.

“Somebody else’s feelings were hurt,” said Christmas slily.

“We thought you didn’t seem quite happy,” said Easter.

“Let us see the book,” said Summer.

“I can tell you all about it,” said the Major. “You need notbother to look at it.”

“You must and you shall see it,” said Miss Crimson Lake. “I’ll get it,” and before the Major could stop her, she had shaken Lucy awake, tipped her over, and taken away the book.

“What do you want? What is the matter?” said Lucy sleepily. “Oh, the Holiday Fairies are here. I’m sorry, but they always make me feel sleepy, when they come all together.” Lucy yawned, and her head began to nod again. Then she caught sight of the book in Miss Crimson Lake’s hands, and at once she was wide awake.

“Don’t let them tear up the little girl’s book,” she said.

“Tear it up?” said Summer. “Certainly not. We want to see it.”

“If you are going to read it aloud,” said the Major, “I’m going.”

“You wait a minute or two,” said Christmas. “Let us look at it. Perhaps you didn’t understand it. I’m sure Betty Barber never meant to hurt any one’s feelings.”

“Sit down, sit down,” said Easter. “We’ll all sit down, thenwe can talk the matter over quietly; only some one must see that Lucy doesn’t go to sleep,”

“I’ll do my best to keep awake,” said Lucy.

“Very well then, are you ready,” said Easter.

The B. of a C. of a P. G.

CHAPTER II

THE B. OF A C. OF A P. G.

Miss Crimson Lake, Lucy, and Major C sat down side by side under the tree. At Easter’s suggestion, Lucy, like the Dormouse at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, was put in the middle, so that the other two might keep her awake.

“I shan’t go to sleep if they will really settle down to read the book,” said Lucy.

“We'll try to read it,” said Christmas, laughing, ‘but as for settling down2”

“We never did such a thing in our lives,” said Easter.

“It looks like an exercise-book,” said Summer, “and we don’t like lesson-books. Indeed, I’m not particularly fond of books of any kind.”

“Well, let us make a beginning, at any rate,” said Christmas. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll climb into the branches of the tree. Then we can swing our legs, and we all find—don’t we?” she said, turning to the others.

“We do,” said Summer.

“That we can think so much better if we are able to swing our legs,” said Christmas.

“We can,” said Easter.

“Really, dear me!” said the Major politely, and he watched the fairies climb up into the tree.

“You don’t think so?” asked Christmas. ‘Then, perhaps you have never tried it.”

“Never,” said the Major.

“Won’t you get on with the book?” said Lucy.

The fairies opened the book, looked inside, and dropped it to the ground with a scream, as if they were hurt.

“What’s the matter?” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“Sums,” said Christmas.

“Arithmetic,” said Easter.

“Take it away, take it away,” said Summer.

“There are some sums, I know,” said Miss Crimson Lake, rising from her seat and picking up the book, “but you need not look at them. Try the other end of the book.”

But it needed some persuasion to get any of the fairies to touch the book again.

However, after a little time Christmas was induced to hold it in her hands, and Easter and Summer peeped at it cautiously.

“This is the Book of Betty Barber,” read Christmas.

Then they all began to smile, then to laugh quietly, then to shout with laughter, and then all three tumbled to the ground and rolled over and over.

“Precisely,” said the Major, “they consider the book absurd.”

“Not a bit of it,” shouted Christmas, “it wasn’t the book at all. I was thinking how awfully funny you looked playing at Mulberry Bush round the tree.”

“And I was beginning to think,” said Easter, “only Summer tickled me.”

“You tickled me,” said Summer.

“You both tickled me,” said Christmas. The Major rose from the ground.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that we are exceedingly unlikely3”

“All right, we beg pardon,” said Christmas.

“We do,” said Summer and Easter.

The Major sat down again very slowly.

“Let us all stand up,” said Christmas, “perhaps we shall geton better if we stand.”

“We should get on all right,” said Summer, “if it didn’t look so like a lesson-book.”

“Never mind,” said Easter, “open the book the writing end, not the sum end, and let us try.”

And the three sisters really did try hard; but they could not keep still two minutes together, and something kept happening which made them laugh or tumble or play, or do anything but keep their eyes on the book. The Major began to get very much annoyed, and Miss Crimson Lake was pouting. Lucy did nothing but yawn and gape and rub her eyes, she was so desperately sleepy.

At last the Major rose once more from the ground. He said never a word, but he bowed to each fairy, to Lucy, and Miss Crimson Lake, and was about to walk away, when a shower of acorns, stones, and twigs came tumbling on his head.

“Dear me, dear me, a sudden storm!” said the Major.

“What is it?” said Miss Crimson Lake, looking rather alarmed.

“Bother,” said Christmas.

“Brother, you mean,” said Easter.

“And he always upsets everything,” said Summer.

“I rather like him,” said Lucy. “It’s the boy Half-term Holiday,” she whispered to Major C, “the others think he is a nuisance; but he never makes me feel sleepy, he’s so energetic and jolly.”

“How’s everybody?” called a boy’s voice, and Half-term came tumbling out of the tree, turned a somersault in the air, and dropped neatly on his feet.

“Hullo, here’s a book,” said the boy, “a lesson-book too. No, it isn’t. Well, I never!” And down sat the boy under the tree, and began to read the book as hard as he could.

“Isn’t he queer?” whispered Christmas. “Last time I saw him—and that’s some time ago, for nobody sees him very often—but last time I saw him he told me he hated books. He said the only thing he cared to do was to play cricket all day long.”

“You never know what he’ll do,” said Easter.

“Well, never mind, he won’t put that book down until he has read every page of it,” said Summer, “and then we’ll make him tell us about it, so that we shall be saved the trouble of trying to read it.”

Half-term never smiled, never spoke, only moved to turn the pages over.

“He doesn’t think it is nonsense,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“You don’t know what he thinks,” said Lucy.

“Wait until he has finished,” said the Major, “he won’t be very long.”

The three sisters were playing with one another, from time to time trying to tease and disturb their brother; but he only waved them away, and went on reading the book.

Nothing moved him until he had finished. Then he jumped up and looked about him.

“Well!” said the Major.

“What do you think of it?” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“I believe I could get to the top of that tree if I tried again,” said Half-term thoughtfully, “though it certainly is the very, very tallest tree I ever saw.”

“Hold him, don’t let him begin. If he once touches the tree, we shall hear no more of the book,” cried Christmas.

“Stop him, hold him!” shouted Easter.

The Major stepped forward, placed himself in front of the boy, and bowed low.

At once the boy began examining him carefully from head to foot.

“Major C, I believe,” he said. ‘Now, I suppose you come from Music Land, Major C Scale?”

The Major smiled and bowed most amiably.

“And you have a great many relatives, I believe,” said Half-term.

The Major bowed again.

“Then do you find it very dull without any Sharps or Flats?” asked Half-term. “There are those who seem to think you may find it dull.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” said the Major, “I never tried3”

“Oh,” said Half-term, “if I were you I think I should try. Now, I find it a good plan to try everything.”

“I never tried to get into three verses,” said Lucy. “Perhaps Betty Barber would not be sick of me if I only had three verses.”

“Try it,” said Half-term, “it would be a most interesting experiment. Try it, will you, to please me?”

Lucy nodded. ‘I must try,” she said, “I must do something.”

“Thank you so much,” said Half-term. “Now, let me see, what was I going to do? I know, get to the tip-top of this very tall tree. Good.”

“One moment,” said Miss Crimson Lake, smiling sweetly. “One moment.”

“The tip-top of the tree,” said Half-term, examining the tree carefully. “Yes, this is certainly the best side to attack. I never saw such a tall tree. I can’t even see the top. Still, there must be one.”

“Mr. Half-term, I want to speak to you,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

But the boy would not listen to her, his thoughts were entirely occupied with the tree, and though she touched his arm he shook her off almost rudely, and set to work to climb.

Miss Crimson Lake was very much annoyed; but Easter, Summer, and Christmas began to laugh.

“He won’t stop for you,” shouted Christmas.

“He’s horribly energetic,” said Summer.

“‘He does everything as hard as he can,” said Easter.

“A very rude fellow!’ said Miss Crimson Lake, frowning crossly.

“He’s nothing of the kind,” said Christmas indignantly.

“He’s a jolly fellow,” said Easter.

“He’s a rude fellow, and a perfect nuisance,” said Miss Crimson Lake, “you said he was a bother, you said he upset everything.”

“Oh, well, we may say anything we like about him,” said Christmas, “he’s our brother. That’s different. But we won’t hear him abused by a bit of a chit of a pink girl.”

“What?” shrieked Miss Crimson Lake.

“A bit of a chit of a pink girl!” shouted the fairies in chorus.

“Lucy, Major,” screamed Miss Crimson Lake, “do you hear them? They called me a3Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Miss Crimson Lake waved her arms and threw herself down on the ground in her excitement. But though she almost sat down on the Major, he only moved out of the way, and did not speak to her. He was lost in thought.

Lucy, too, paid no attention to Miss Crimson Lake. Lucy had buried her face in her hands, and was sitting in a heap on the ground. She did not seem to hear Miss Crimson Lake’s screams.

The fairies were delighted. They joined hands, and danced round and round in a circle, calling at the top of their voices, “A bit of a chit of a pink girl!”

When Miss Crimson Lake found that nobody was troubling about her, she picked herself up from the ground, stopped screaming, and walked away.

“She’s a silly young thing,” said Christmas.

‘So stuck up and conceited,” said Summer.

“Hullo! Hullo!” shouted a voice.

“Who is it?” asked Summer.

“Half-term, of course,” said Christmas, “He’s up the tree.”

“Hullo! Hullo!” shouted Half-term again. “Come up, come up. It’s fine up here. I can see Paint Land, Music Land, Rhyme Land, Sum Land, Nonsense Land, ever so far. Come up, come up.”

“Don’t think we will,” said Christmas.

“No, thank you,” called Summer.

You come down,” shouted Easter.

“All right, I’m coming,” called Half-term.

“Now,” said Christmas, “we’ll tell him what the B. of a C. of a P. G. Sat: 2

“And we’ll make him think of a way to pay her out,” said Easter.

“Here I am again,” said Half-term, dropping to the ground. “Oh, you are here still,” and he walked across to the Major. “I saw your street from the top of the tree. Twelve houses there are, I counted them. Is yours the first?”

But the Major did not move or speak.

“What is the matter with him?” asked Half-term.

“I don’t know,” said Christmas; “but, I say, Half-term, you know that bit of a chit of a pink girl who was here a few minutes since?”

Half-term shook his head. “Don’t remember her,” he said.

“Miss Crimson Lake, from Paint Land,” said Easter. “She called you a rude fellow and a perfect nuisance.”

“Paint Land,” said Half-term; “I saw Paint Land from the top of the tree, and paint, paint—where did I see something about painting? I know, it was in that book, ‘I shall let my children paint all day long.’ I think I should like to try it. It would be fun to paint all day long, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Christmas eagerly, “let us all try it, and tell all the children to try it.”

“A grand idea, I’m off,” cried Half-term, and he bounded away.

Christmas clapped her hands, and shouted “Hurrah!”

“What is the matter?” asked Easter.

“Don’t you see, don’t you see?” said Christmas. “He’ll paint all day long, we’ll persuade the children to paint all day long, and then we’ll see how our young friend3”

‘The B. of a C. of a P. G.,” cried Easter.

“Likes it,” said Christmas

“We’ll pay her out,” said Summer.

“We will,” said Easter.

The three sisters ran after their brother, laughing and shouting “Hurrah!”

All the time, through all the noise, Lucy and Major C never moved.

For a little while all was quiet, and when the Fraction came strolling through the wood, to see if the Holiday Fairies had gone, he found the two still sitting under the tree.

He spoke to them, he touched them—they took no notice of him.

“What shall I do?” he said. “I must rouse them somehow.”

He picked up a bit of a stick, and poked first the Major with it, then Lucy; but still they did not move. Then his eyes fell on the Book of Betty Barber, lying on the ground where Half-term had left it.

“I’ll try that,” he said, and he turned over the leaves quickly.

“‘I think C Major is very dull,’” he read out of the book.

The Major jumped up, straightened himself, saluted, and began to speak quickly. “He shall be dull no longer,” he said. “I will inquire into the matter. I will return to Music Land, visit my relations, Major D and E, and F and G, and consult Minors, my ward. I will find out everything about these Sharps and Flats. Excuse me,” he said, bowing to Thirteen-fourteenths, “I must leave you. I have important business on hand. Attention! Quick march! Forward!” And the Major marched away.

“Now, what is he talking about?” said Thirteen-fourteenths.

“He’s going back to do something in Music Land, that’s pretty clear; but what he is going to do is not quite so clear. Anyway, I’ve roused him. I’d better try the book on the lady now.”

Once more he turned over the pages.

“‘No piece of poetry ought to have more than three verses,’” he read. “I, for one, am heartily sick of “Good Little Lucy.”’”

Lucy rubbed her eyes, and stared up at the Fraction.

“I will try,” she said; “I never thought of trying until Half-term suggested it. I will try to get into three verses; then perhaps the boys and girls won’t be sick of me.”

“Oh, it’s Half-term’s been putting these ideas into your head, is it?” said Thirteen-fourteenths. “I know him, a most energetic young man. Tell me what are you going to do?”

“I am going home,” said Lucy. “I shall have so much to cut out to get into three verses.” And Lucy walked away.

“Well, well,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “we can only hope they’ll be better soon. Somehow I can’t help thinking3Hullo, I must be careful, or I shall be lost in thought, too. It is this book, of course,” and he dropped the book promptly and prepared to march away. Then he stopped, stooped down and picked it up again.

“I wonder what I had better do with it,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from, but I don’t think I’ll leave it lying about. It seems to upset every one, and make them quarrel. I know, I’ll hide it somewhere near this tree. Why, I do believe the trunk is hollow. I’ll put it inside the trunk.”