xt705q4rjf6g https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt705q4rjf6g/data/mets.xml Fox, Frances Margaret, 1870- 1918  books b92-212-30910374 English Rand McNally, : Chicago : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Kinderkins  / by Frances Margaret Fox ; illustrated by Laura Brey. text Kinderkins  / by Frances Margaret Fox ; illustrated by Laura Brey. 1918 2002 true xt705q4rjf6g section xt705q4rjf6g 

THE  
SI'RY BY FRANCES NAI(IRT lOX

 This page in the original text is blank.

 This page in the original text is blank.

 This page in the original text is blank.

 










THE KINDERKINS

 


















   ft  n



   I
I a    q
Go S, 1  
At0  
   t - g  

 




THE



KINDERKINS



FRANCES



By
MARGARET



Author of "Doings of Little Bear"
and "Adventures of Sonny Bear"



     Illustrated by
   LAURA BREY



RAND McNALLY  COMPANY
        CHICAGO



FOX

 
















                      Copyright, 1QI8, by
                  RAND MCNALLY  COMPANY










                  ACK NOWLEDGMENTS
  Acknowledgmrents are due the following publishers for permission to
reprint in book form the stories listed below:

The Continent
    When the Little Cats Told
    A Night in an Indian Camp

Little Folks
    Grandma's Alarm Clok
    The Doll That Slept under the Stars

Woman's H ome Cornmpanion
    IIow the Beaver Children Con-,r Their lair

Sunday s.chol Times
    The Little Bird That Was Forgotten

The Youth's Companion
    The Pincushion Doll












                          A.

 






















        To
My dear little friend
iucilte JMconalb

 





































      leW
I   ,X


 














CONTENTS



HOW THE BEAVER. CHILDREN CONMB THEIR HAIR

WHEN THE LITTLE CATS TOLD

THE LITTLE BIRD THAT WAS FORGOTTEN  .

A LITTLE JOKE ON RICHARD

THE PINCUSHION DOLL .

GRANDMA 'S ALARM CLOCK .

THE RUBBERS THAT RAN AWAY.

THE DOLL THAT SLEPT UNDER THE STARS   .

A JOKE ON A LITTLE PIG.

A LITTLE KITTEN 'S PUZZLE

A NIGHT IN AN INDIAN CAMP .



      PAGE
      . 11

      . 14

. .  . 21

 .  . 24

. .  . 29

. .  . 33

. .  . 41

. .   47

. .  . 53

. .  . 56

. .  . 61



7

 

































e-v ."k


 













COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS



                                                            P AGE
"Oh, dear, I don't like to comb my hair!"    .     Frontispiece
" Jimmy, you must n't forget the kittens!"..   .  .  .  .  . 15
Richard crept out of bed and looked down the hall . .27

Laura sang kindergarten songs to the doll. .   .  .  .  .  . 31
"Grandma smiled and rubbed her glasses" .  .   .  .  .  .  . 35
More than once that day Baby Jean and her grandpa almost
    stepped on their own rubbers   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 43
A dog found the doll and dragged her into a clearing where the stars
    shone uponher    .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  . 51
Who should come walking up the garden path but two black kittens! 59



9


 





















































"Oh, dear, I don't like to comb my hair!"


 










    THE KINDERKINS


        HOW THE BEAVER CHILDREN
              COMB THEIR HAIR
 Once there was a little girl who did n't like to comb her
hair; she was eight years old and her hair was short. Little
girl made a fuss one morning when her mother said, "Time
to comb your hair, Elizabeth."
  " Oh, dear, I don't like to comb my hair! I wish I
never had to comb my hair! " Elizabeth grumbled, as
she stood pouting by the window.
  " Let me see your comb, sister," said Uncle Jim the
trapper, who had that very day come on the train from
the North Woods.
  Elizabeth straightway brought her comb and pretty white
brush.
  "Why, that is a good comb!" observed Uncle Jim, as
if he felt greatly surprised.
  "The comb is all right," agreed Elizabeth, looking a
little ashamed.
  " How would you like to comb your hair with your
claws" demanded Uncle Jim. in big bear tones.
  "I haven't any claws!"
                         11

 





THE KINDERKINS



  "You have toes, though, and suppose you had nothing
but toes to comb your hair with How would you like
that "
  "I should n't like it; but you see, Uncle Jim, if I had
no comb I should n't have to comb my hair. Who ever
heard of such a thing!"
  " I have, Miss Elizabeth! I know a family in the woods
who have no combs, and the children are obliged to comb
their long, shaggy hair with their claws."
  By this time Elizabeth was smiling. "Go on," she said.
  "They are the beavers," the trapper uncle explained.
  " Beavers " interrupted Elizabeth. " I have seen beaver
fur, Uncle Jim, and it is soft and short without any hair
in it!"
  "You never saw beaver fur on a beaver," declared
Uncle Jim. "When beavers wear their own coats the fur
is full of long, shaggy hair. When men trap them they
sell the skins to other men, who pull out the long, shaggy
hair and leave only the soft under-fur. The beaver chil-
dren have to comb their own hair and they do it, Miss
Elizabeth, with their claws. I never heard beaver chil-
dren complain about combing their hair, either. They
sit on their tails and patiently comb and comb their hair
with the claws of their hind paws, exactly as the father
beavers and the mother beavers sit on their tails and comb
their hair with the claws of their hind paws. To see beaver
children on a log combing their hair is one of the funniest
sights in the woods."



12


 



HOW THE BEAVERS COMB



        Beaver children sitting on their tails and combing their hair
  "How I should like to see the beaver children comb their
hair!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
  " And how I should like to see a little girl comb her hair!"
exclaimed Uncle Jim.
  Next minute the trapper uncle saw a little girl comb her
hair, and he looked pleased. So did her mother.
  After that the little girl never made any more fuss at
hair-combing time, except once in a while, because she
remembered the beaver children sitting on their flat tails
combing their hair with the claws of their hind paws, with
no friends well enough acquainted with the family to offer
them a strong white comb.



THEIR HAIR



13



- 3 5

 






        WHEN THE LITTLE CATS TOLD
  It was the last week of vacation; more than that, it was
next to the last day of the last week. Mother Gray knew
nothing of vacations. She did n't understand why she
and her kittens were brought in a basket from the city
to the seashore one day in June, nor why, one week in
September, the children in the family made more fuss
than usual about going to bed at night. In other words,
she believed that it made no difference to her whether
school kept or not.
  Jimmy knew that it did make a difference to Mother
Gray that the family were about to return to their city
home. He could n't easily forget when every morning of
that last week his mother said, "Jimmy, you must n't
forget the kittens."
  Jimmy did n't intend to forget the kittens. He was
glad as he could be that the miller would give them a good
home and call them by their names-Sea Anemone, Sea
Urchin, Sea Moss, Seaweed, and Crab. But it was under-
stood that the miller, being a busy man, might shorten
the names if he wished.
  It was hard for a stranger to tell one kitten from another
until he knew them pretty well, because they were all
maltese and white. Little Crab was a good-natured kitten,
and was given that name only because of his ridiculous
fashion of scuttling sidewise, crab fashion, instead of run-
ning straight ahead like Mother Gray.
                          14


 














1  



t  am... t r1 4 t S.i 9  
X ,t'  ._._ X  4 4 XI



"Jimmy, you mustn't forget the kittensI"



I " ,
f



U=



       , , qq, Ngly
      A , , , wK
-- I I       11 4--
  i!lr     "" , - -, --v

 



THE KINDERKINS



  Jimmy's duty it was to take the kittens over the hills
to the miller, because his sisters were little girls three and
five years old, while his only brother was n't really of
much account as a brother, owing to his age. He was
six months old and called "Baby," although his name was
John Richard.
  Unless you have lived in a cottage at the seashore the
last week of vacation, you know nothing about how much
there is to do and how short are the days. Every morning
Jimmy said to himself, "To-day I must take the kittens
to the miller." But he put it off and put it off until, before
any one knew what had become of the time, the day was
Friday of the last week.
  That morning Mother began as usual: "Jimmy, you
must n't forget the  "
  "I know it, Mother; I won't forget. I'd go now, only
the Brown boys and I want to build one more fort on the
sands while the tide is low, and we're going to play pirate
after that; but of course I'll surely take the kittens to the
miller's before night. Oh, see Mother Gray washing their
coats and getting them all cleaned up! I think we ought
not to separate them sooner'n we have to."
  Mother smiled. It certainly looked as if cat and kit-
tens would be together until she should be obliged to say,
"Jimmy, go now to the miller's!"
  At three o'clock that afternoon Jimmy rushed into the
cottage and breathlessly asked if he might go sailing with
his father.



16


 




WHEN THE LITTLE CATS TOLD



Mother Gray washing the children's coats



  "What time is he going" Mother asked.
  "Half past four, and he told me to mneet him at the
wharf on time. If you say 'Yes,' I'm going back this
minute and sit right there and wait."
  "I can't say 'Yes,' Jimmy, until after you have taken
the kittens to the miller's."
  "Well, I'll go now," offered Jimmy. "There'll be just
about time."
  Mother placed the kittens in the basket, kissed Jimmy,
told him not to hurry, there was plenty of time before half



17

 




THE KINDERKINS



past four, and then made him promise to come back to the
cottage before going to the wharf.
  There was a short cut to the miller's, but, although the
kittens were heavy, Mother advised Jimmy to follow the
road. He might get lost the other way.
  Finally the little fellow reached the top of the last hill.
Just below was the miller's house and there was the old
wheel of the flour mill turning round and round -whirr
- whirr - whirr.
  "Now, kittens," Jimmy advised, "you scamper right
down there to your new home and save me fifteen minutes."
  Without waiting to hear what the kittens might say,
Jimmy opened the basket, turned five noses in the direc-
tion of the old mill, and started toward home.
  Before he reached the cottage Jimmy stopped several
times to talk with boys, to get a drink of water at the
spring, and to play a game of jackstraws with Bennie
Smith.
  "I am home, Mother," Jimmy called at last, opening
the door wide enough to admit his face.
  "My child," Mother replied, "come in. Some old friends
of yours are waiting for you in the kitchen."
  When the door was open, Jimmy beheld five kittens:
Sea Anemone, Sea Urchin, Sea Moss, Seaweed, and Crab.
Each kitten straightway lifted up its voice and said:
"Mew!'' "Mew!" "Mew!'" "Mew!' " Mew!'"
  "So they came short cut and told, did they" demanded
Jimmy.



18


 
























Jimmy opened the basket and turned five noses toward the old mil



X7-v
               i

 




THE KINDERKINS



  " Why did n't the miller lock them up " inquired Mother.
  Instantly Jimmy knew that the little cats had told only
what they could. One minute he hesitated, then out came
the truth.
  "What shall we do now" Mother inquired.
  "I s'pose I '11 have to take them back again," said Jimmy.
  "I don't see any other way," agreed his mother.
  "I should think our cat would teach her children to do
as they are told," grumbled Jimmy, wiping away tears
that would not stay out of sight.
  "Perhaps she tried," suggested Mother, and at that
Jimmy blushed.
  The wind must have been sorry for Jimmy. Anyway,
it stopped blowing soon after he started once more over
the hills to the miller's. Not a sail stirred on the bay.
  Sea Anemone, Sea Urchin, Sea Moss, Seaweed, and Crab
were asleep in the hay in the miller's barn when Jimmy
appeared on the wharf, where his father was waiting for a
breeze.
  Soon came the wind once more, flapping the sails, and
away flew the yacht Sea Bird with Jimmy and his father
on board.
  "And the moral, my son," Father began when Jimmy had
finished telling his troubles with the kittens, "the moral
is, never leave until the eleventh hour what-"
  "Oh!" begged the boy, looking away out to sea, "please
let's not talk about the morals!"



20


 






















THE LITTLE BIRD THAT WAS FORGOTTEN
  He was Mary Elizabeth's little bird, and it was Mary
Elizabeth who said to him over and over, "Sing a happy
song, little bird."
  In summer, while the cage hung on the porch outdoors,
many a man and woman smiled when they heard the happy
song of that little bird. In winter, sad-looking friends who
came to call sometimes forgot the troubles that made them
sad when they heard the wee pet's bubbling song. It did
seem as if that particular bird would never be forgotten.
  There came a time, however, when Mary Elizabeth went
to Europe with her father and mother. She could n't
take the bird. A neighbor who had no cats offered to
                          21

 




THE KINDERKINS



keep him until Mary Elizabeth's return. Before the child
sailed, she gave her pet a bit of advice:
  "Always sing a happy song, little bird."
  At first it was easy for the little bird to sing a happy
song; but one day his kind friend was obliged to leave town
for a week, and he was left with strangers who promised
to take good care of him.
  "Always sing a happy song, little bird," were the last
words the neighbor said at parting.
  Soon after there was a children's entertainment in the
church, to which birds were invited. Mary Elizabeth's
pet was taken in his cage, and of all the glad songs that day
his was the sweetest. He enjoyed the entertainment thor-
oughly, and when night came he tucked his head under his
wing and went to sleep without fear. He did n't know,
poor little fellow, that one by one the birds had been taken
from the church, and he had been forgotten.
  Next morning the little bird awoke, sang a happy song,
ate his breakfast, and sang a happy song. His cage was in
a pew where a little girl had left him. He could n't see
the sunshine streaming through stained glass windows, but
while waiting for his bath he sang a happy song. No one
came to give him his bath, so he sang another happy song.
  This is the part of the story Mary Elizabeth never liked
to think of for a minute: how the little bird sang until his
seed was gone and not a drop of water in his cup; how two
days passed and the little fellow tucked his head under his
wing, and knew that he was forgotten.



22


 




THE LITTLE BIRD THAT WAS FORGOTTEN



          The little bird did n't know that he had been forgotten
  The third day the organist came to practice on the pipe
organ. The little bird lifted his head when music pealed
through the church. He had never heard anything like
it, so sweet, so solemn. When it was over the weak little
bird must have remembered Mary Elizabeth's advice:
  "Sing a happy song, little bird."
  As the organist was passing to the outer door she heard
a happy song. And Mary Elizabeth's pet was found before
it was too late.
  Mary Elizabeth is a big girl in high school now, but when
she is discouraged, and everything seems to go wrong, she
remembers the advice she used to give a wee canary.



23

 






         A LITTLE JOKE ON RICHARD
  If Richard cried the least bit after his grandmother
kissed him and left him in the big bed in the front room
upstairs, it is n't surprising. He had never been away
from his mother before, anrd the wonder is that he cried so
softly nobody heard him.
  Richard, though, remembered what his mother had told
him the last minute before she put him on board the train
that morning. She had said, "Richard, dear, be a little
man at Grandma's, and don't make her a bit of trouble
if you can help it. You are a big boy now-almost big
enough to go to school. Just remember that, and Mother
will be proud of you."
  Richard buried his face in the pillow, and tried to stop
crying. He did wish he had his own little pillow; the ones
at Grandma's were so big they made his neck ache. It
was lonely in the big front room, and it was n't nice to
be away from home at night anyway. Richard was sorry
he had ever thought of going visiting without his mother.
She was n't to come until two days later -oh, what a
long time!
  The little boy began to wonder if it would ever be morn-
ing. That made him think of something else his mother
had said. She had told him to be sure to get up and dress
himself the minute Grandma called him, so he would n't
be late to breakfast. That was the last thing Richard had
in his mind when he went to sleep. He did n't lie awake
                          24


 




A LITTLE JOKE ON RICHARD



The little boy wondered if it would erer be morning



more than a few minutes, though he thought it several
hours-the dear little boy!
  Early, early in the morning, Richard awoke suddenly.
He sat straight up in bed and listened. "Guess I was
dreaming," he said at last, then cuddled down again. The
big pillow was on the floor. Scarcely had the child closed
his eyes, when he again heard the sound that had awakened
him:
  "Tap, tap, tap!"



25

 



THE KINDERKINS



  A queer way to call a boy! Why did n't Grandma speak
Richard crept out of bed and looked down the long hall.
Then he peeped into two rooms near by, and saw his cousins,
who were visiting at the farm, lying in their beds, sound
asleep.
  Richard looked puzzled. If the folks in the house were
not up, surely he ought not to get dressed, or make a bit
of noise. He thought about it a little while, and then went
back to bed.
  Again came a loud "Tap, tap, tap!" that sounded so
near Richard was frightened.
  "Yes, Grandma; I hear you," he said.
  If she had such a queer way of calling folks, why did n't
she call his cousins, too
  After a while Richard fell asleep, only to be again awak-
ened by the tapping.
  "Sounds's if she'd got all out of patience," whispered
Richard, "so I guess I'd better hurry." Another minute,
and another "Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap! " made Richard
dress as quickly as he knew how.
  It seemed strange to the child that the house was so
quiet. After he was dressed, he went on tiptoe down the
hall, wondering if his cousins had dressed and gone to
breakfast. Instead, they were sleeping as peacefully as
ever.
  Poor Richard returned to his room, to stay until his
cousins should wake up and be ready to go downstairs.
He felt so homesick and lonesome he did n't know what



26


 







































N ,t ,\




4    



Richard crept out of bed and looked down the hall


 




THE KINDERKINS



to do. The birds were singing as Richard had never heard
birds sing before. He sat by the low, broad sill of an open
window to hear the sweet music. There Grandma found
him, sound asleep, when she came to help him dress, two
hours later.
  "Richard, dear," she said, taking the little fellow in her
arms and kissing him, "wake up, and see who is looking
at you. That's our red-headed woodpecker, and I guess
he's as much surprised as Grandma is to see you dressed so
early. You thought I called you No; I have been up
only a little while myself. In this old oak tree close by
the window, Richard, is the woodpecker's nest. Now
watch, and you'll see how he gets worms for his family.
He makes a hammer of his bill. See him Hear him-
'Tap, tap, tap!' He's after his children's breakfast."
  Then Richard knew that the red-headed woodpecker
had played a joke on him. He laughed merrily when he
told his mother about it after breakfast, but the rest of the
folks laughed because Richard's mother had followed him
to Grandma's on the early morning train.



" See him Hear him-'Tap, lap, lap.' "



28


 
























             THE PINCUSHION DOLL

  Once upon a time there was a pincushion that wished to
be a doll. It belonged to the mother of two little girls
whose names were Laura and Mary Anna. Day after day
the pincushion saw the little sisters hugging and cuddling
their dolls, singing to them, and playing with them from
morning until night. The pincushion did not dream that
she could be a doll herself until she discovered that almost
anything will do for a doll: a doll was sometimes a towel
rolled up, or a pillow case, or a little old dress -it made no
difference to the babies; they were all cuddled and loved.
                           29

 





THE KINDERKINS



  When the pincushion noticed that, she began to fidget.
She squirmed pins loose, soiled her dress, and untied her
bows; she was a long pincushion, with a soft, soft doll heart.
She began to tumble toward the front of the dressing table,
and she hoped and hoped that the babies would see her.
  At last the pincushion had her wish. It was the day of
the evening party that Laura and Mary Anna's mother
noticed that her pretty pincushion was soiled. "We must
wash this pincushion cover and press the ribbon," said she.
"Everything in the whole house must be fresh and
spotless."
  When Mother sat down to undress the pincushion, Laura
and Mary Anna stood by her side and watched. The
pincushion kept saying over and over in its soft heart, " Oh,
let me be a doll, little girls! Oh, let me be a doll!"
  Straightway the wonder happened. " Why, it is a doll!"
exclaimed Mary Anna, and she ran away for a moment.
She came back with the bisque doll's muslin bonnet, which
exactly fitted the pincushion's head.
  "Now wrap something round it," begged the little sister.
  Straightway the pincushion was wrapped in a towel, and
became a doll in Mary Anna's soft, round arms. You can
understand how happy Mary Anna was, but unless you have
been a pincushion you can have no idea how happy the new
doll felt as Mary Anna rocked and cuddled it, and cuddled
and rocked it.
  After awhile Mary Anna let Laura hold the doll, and
Laura sang kindergarten songs to it, all about the old owl



30


 























































Laura sang ktndergarten songs to the doll

 




THE KINDERKINS



that lived in the tree, the shoemaker, and ever so many
others.
  At noon, when the little girls went to luncheon, they put
the pincushion to bed, bonnet and all. You may be sure
that the doll did not sleep, but lay there wide awake,
thinking and thinking what a beautiful thing it is to be
a doll.
  About three o'clock that afternoon mother began to
hunt for the pincushion. She wished to put on the fresh
cover.
  So Laura and Mary Anna carried the pincushion to their
mother.
  Mother had to go to the telephone, and when she came
back, the cushion was nowhere to be seen. No one could
find it for a long, long time.
  You see, the pincushion was trying the magic of hiding in
plain sight. It did not wish to be a pincushion again, and
that was why it tried the hiding magic. In every room
mother and Laura and Mary Anna searched for that pin-
cushion; high and low they hunted; in chairs and under
chairs, on beds and under beds they looked, until at last
they found it on the arm of mother's wicker rocking-chair.
  "It does n't like to be a pincushion," said the little girls.
"It wishes to be a doll."
  "That is sad, I am sure," said their mother.
  And so ever since that happy day the pincushion has
been a doll; it wears a muslin bonnet and a starched plaid
gingham dress, and is loved and cuddled by two little girls.



32


 
























GRANDMA'S ALARM CLOCK



  Grandma looked at the clock. The short hand was at
two, the long hand was at twelve.
  " It is two o'clock, Grandma," said little John, who could
tell what time it was by that big clock in the hall, although
watches were still a puzzle.
  Just then the clock struck: " One, two." Grandma
smiled; John smiled.
  "I was wondering," said Grandma, with another glance
at the clock, "I was wondering if I have time to take a
wee nap. "
                         33

 




THE KINDERKINS



  Little John began to feel uncomfortable. He was afraid
Grandma really meant that he should take a nap. When
Mother had gone away, that morning, with the baby and
the two older children, she had told John that if he would
be a good boy and stay home to take care of Grandma, he
need n't go to sleep after luncheon. John was sure Grandma
would n't make him take a nap after Mother had said that,
but she might ask him if he would like to have a little
rest with her. John was a polite little boy, and Grandma
was so much more beautiful than any other grandma he
ever saw, it was easier for a boy to do what she wished than
to do as he wished himself. John was sure he would have
to lie down and close his eyes if Grandma asked him, so he
looked at the clock again and frowned.
  "Why, I forgot to give my little bantam rooster his
dinner!" declared little John. "When you said you would
tell me stories so I would n't get lonesome, it made me for-
get my little rooster. Now don't worry about me, Grandma!
If you want to take a nap, you just take it. I'll have to
feed the rooster, and then I'll play with my new engine
out on the back porch."
  Grandma smiled and rubbed her glasses. "Very well,"
she answered. "And, John, dear, you need n't keep too
quiet, because I must n't take a long nap this afternoon."
  Sometimes when Grandma went to sleep after luncheon,
she did n't wake up for two or three hours; so John was
glad she did n't intend to take a long nap that day, because
the house seemed lonely. He decided that as Grandma



34


 



















































Grandma smiled and rubbed Aler glasses



-   -11-11-1111-11



    "I,,  I   ,
 9,r






   ,I I

"O'Ll. ;-

 





THE KINDERKINS



said she must n't take a long nap, he would play that his
engine was obliged to be noisy when it was about time for
the clock to strike three.
  If Grandma had told John that she did n't intend to sleep
more than fifteen minutes, how he would have stared.
He did n't know a word about the beautiful surprise in store
for him.
  When Mother had left home that morning she had told
John that she was going to Aunt Mary's in the city; that
she intended to leave the children with Aunt Mary, and do
some shopping before luncheon. John had wished to go,
too, but Mother had explained that some one must stay
with Grandma.
  After her boy went to feed the little rooster, Grandma
looked at the clock again, and shook her head. "What if
I should oversleep" said she.
  Norah, the housemaid, was gone for the afternoon. The
house was perfectly still.
  "Let me see," Grandma continued aloud. "If we meet
my daughters and the children at the station in time for
the three o'clock car for the beach, John and I must leave
here at half past two. We shall need only fifteen minutes
to get ready, which leaves me fifteen minutes for a cat
nap." Grandma usually called a short sleep a cat nap.
  "I don't know," Grandma said to herself, as she settled
down among her cushions on the couch, "I don't feel sure
that I ought to do this without an alarm clock on the chail-
beside me."



36


 





GRANDMA'S ALARM CLOCK



John did n't know a word aoutl /1e surprise zn store for him



  Yet she closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep.
  The big clock in the hall ticked, ticked, ticked away the
minutes. Grandma was sound, sound asleep. Five min-
utes passed, ten minutes, eleven minutes, twelve minutes;
then Grandma dreamed that she awoke.
  Thirteen minutes, and she dreamed that she washed
John's face and combed his hair.
  Thirteen minutes and seven seconds; Grandma dreamed
she was telling John about the beautiful surprise: how they
were to meet mother, Aunt Mary, and the children at the
city station, and go on the three o'clock car, the latest car



37

 




THE KINDERKINS



for the seashore, where they were to have a picnic dinner
and come home by moonlight.
  Fourteen minutes; Grandma dreamed that she and John
were skimming along the country to the seashore  bumpety-
bump, bumpety-bump-such a beautiful, peaceful ride-
bumpety-bump, bumpety-bump over the rails.
  The fact is, Grandma was so sound asleep she might
have slept until five o'clock if something unusual had n't
happened.
  Norah had left the side screen door open. The little
rooster, having eaten his dinner and smoothed his feathers,
went for a walk when little John began to play cars. He
reached the side porch, hopped up the steps, and, if you
will believe it, walked right through the open door. To
be sure, he paused politely a moment, with his head cocked
on one side, as if waiting for some one to say, "Come
right in and take a chair."
  But no one appeared, so the little rooster walked into
the sitting -room, where Grandma lay dreaming that she
and John were going bumpety-bump, bumpety-bump, over
the rails to the seashore.
  At last, just as the big clock in the hall said fifteen
minutes after two, the bantam rooster crowed, "Oo-oo-
ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh -oooh    oooh!" in his shrillest tones.
  Grandma stirred uneasily. She dreamed that the car
was whistling for the seaside station. She did n't like to
get off the car.
  Again came the long, shrill whistle. Grandma sat up



38


 




















































The bantam rooster crowed in his shrillest tones
                      39


 




THE KINDERKINS



          Grandma gave the bantam rooster a piece of custard pie
and got ready to leave the car. She really sat straight up
on the couch and opened her eyes in a dazed, " Where-am-
I" fashion.
  There stood the little rooster on the rug, arching his
pretty neck ready to crow a third time, and crow he did.
  "There, there!" cried Grandma, with a glance at the
clock, "that's enough. I'm awake, thank you, sir, just in
time. You come into the kitchen with me and I'll give
you a piece of custard pie. You deserve it."
  Grandma did give the little bantam rooster a piece of
custard pie, and she did n't make him eat the crust, either.
  " We should n't be here if it was n't for our little rooster,"
said John, when he and Grandma met mother, Aunt Mary,
and the children in the city station at three o'clock.



40


 






       THE RUBBERS THAT RAN AWAY
  Baby Jean was three years old, and Grandpa was seventy-
three. Baby Jean was tiny, but Grandpa was almost a
giant, he was so broad and tall. Strangers always looked
amused when the two walked down the street together,
because it was so far from the top of Baby Jean's sun-
bonnet to the top of Grandpa's silk hat.
  The two were great friends, and when they went to pass
the summer in a cottage by the seashore, even Baby Jean's
mother could n't keep them apart. Where one went the
other was sure to go.
  Early in the season there was a Sunday-school picnic at
Mount Nebo, two miles away. None of Baby Jean's family
wanted to go except Grandpa, and he said he would n't go
a step unless he could take Baby Jean. It happened that
big, white clouds covered the sky the morning of the picnic,
and Baby Jean's mother said she was afraid it might rain,
and if it cidl, Baby Jean would get her feet wet and Grandpa
would get his feet wet, too, as she knew they would both
walk around in the wet grass.
  "We'll take our rubbers," said Grandpa; so he hunted
for his big, big rubbers, while Baby Jean found her tiny,
tiny rubbers; and the tiny rubbers were so small they slid
into the toes of the big rubbers, making all the family
laugh.
  Soon Baby Jean and Grandpa were riding in the wagon
on their way to the picnic, while snuggled down in the
                         41

 




THE KINDERKINS



hay, where no one could see, rode the big rubbers and
the tiny rubbers.
  When the picnic wagon reached Mount Nebo the wind
had blown away every cloud from the sky, and the sun
shone bright and warm.
  "We won't need our rubbers, after all," said Grandpa;
"so scamper away, Baby Jean, and we'll have a jolly time
in this merry crowd."
  It does seem as if the four rubbers in the bottom of the
picnic wagon must have heard what Grandpa said, because
a little while after, when the horses trotted farther on, the
big rubbers took the tiny rubbers and ran away, though
they did n't like dry grass half so well as they liked grass
that was dripping wet. It is natural for rubbers to prefer
rain to sunshine.
  More than once that day the laughing Baby Jean and
her grandpa almost stepped on their own rubbers; but
somehow the rubbers managed to keep themselves out of
sight. Baby Jean and Grandpa scarcely saw the ground
anyway, and when it was time to go home all they could
thi