Three Minute Stories

BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS
———
STORIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS
Each, one volume, cloth decorative, illustrated

THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
Each, one volume, illustrated, 90 cents

• Captain January
• Melody
• Marie
• Rosin the Beau
• Snow-white
• Jim of Hellas
• Narcissa
• “Some Day”
• Nautilus
• Isla Heron
• The Little Master

HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
Each, one volume, illustrated, $1.75

• Queen Hildegarde
• Hildegarde’s Holiday
• Hildegarde’s Home
• Hildegarde’s Neighbors
• Hildegarde’s Harvest
• Three Margarets
• Margaret Montfort
• Peggy
• Rita
• Fernley House
• The Merryweathers

The above eleven volumes are also boxed as a set, $19.25
———

———
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass.

“IT IS A FINE BIG BOX, WITH THE SIDES RAISED SO THAT JOHNNY AND THE SAND WILL NOT FALL OUT.” (See [page 1].)

Three Minute
Stories

By LAURA E. RICHARDS
Author of “Five Minute Stories,” “Five Mice in a Mouse
Trap,” “Captain January,” “The Hildegarde Series,”
“The Margaret Series,” etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY JOSEPHINE H. BRUCE

THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY THE PAGE COMPANY
———
All rights reserved
———
First Impression, November, 1914
Second Impression, March, 1917

TO
My Grandchildren,
WITH MUCH LOVE

Author’s Note

Many of these stories and rhymes appeared originally in the Ladies’ Home Journal, and were signed either with my initials, or with names of characters in my books. Others were adapted by me from the Indian “Hitopadesa,” or “Book of Good Counsel,” and from two anonymous story-books of a bygone generation, long out of print. These are marked “Adapted.”

L. E. R.

Contents

List of Colored Plates

Three Minute Stories

JOHNNY AND HIS SAND BOX

Johnny’s sand box is in the back yard. It is a fine big box, with the sides raised so that Johnny and the sand will not fall out. The sand is fine and dry, and almost white; it came from the seashore, and sometimes you find a little shell in it.

The things that belong in the sand box (beside Johnny himself!) are the blue tin pail to hold sand, and the red tin pail to hold water, and the shovel, and the rake, and the old kitchen spoon. The things that do not belong there (some of them) are the woolly dog (because the sand gets all into his wool, and then shakes out on the nursery floor, and Maggie says it is a Sight!), and Johnny’s shoes and stockings (he likes to take them off and sift the hot, clean sand between his bare toes), and the neighbors’ cats.

This story is about the cats. There are five of them. One is black, and has a red leather collar with a little silver bell; it belongs to the deaf old lady next door, and its name is Jetty. Another is yellow, and belongs to the lame girl in the white house with green blinds; its name is Topaz. The third cat is gray, with white front and paws. This is a lady cat, and her name is Malta; she belongs to the lady whom Johnny calls Mrs. Nose. Mamma does not allow him to say this, and he tries to remember, but sometimes he forgets; one day he said right out, “Good morning, Mrs. Nose!” and she only laughed, and said her nose was just the right size, and she needed it all to smell catnip with. She is a funny lady, and Johnny likes her, and Malta too.

The fourth cat belongs to Mr. Chops the butcher, and is a big tabby, with green eyes and fierce whiskers. Johnny does not like him at all. But the fifth cat is Muffet, his own dear white kitten.

Now all these cats were friends except Bobs, the butcher’s cat. He lives on meat, and Mamma says perhaps that makes him cross. Anyhow, he is cross, and he growls and snarls and spits at Muffet and Jetty and Topaz and Malta, and tries to steal their fishbones, and upsets their milk, and is really a very horrid cat.

The story happened one night last week. Johnny was asleep, and Maggie was tidying up the nursery before going to bed, when suddenly she heard a queer noise. It came from the yard, and she stepped to the window and looked out. It was bright moonlight; and what do you think? The cats were having a party in the sand box! the four friendly cats, that is, Muffet and Topaz and Malta and Jetty. Maggie thought Muffet must have invited the others, for she was sitting in the middle of the box with her front paws tucked under her, looking so pleased and happy; and the three others had their paws tucked in too, and they were all four talking in little soft mews, and seemed to be having a very good time. Then all of a sudden there was a snarl and a yowl, and that horrid great Bobs sprang over the fence and into the sand box, and began clawing and spitting and scratching right and left, just as hard as he could. At first the four friendly cats were too startled to do anything; but in another minute they began to spit and scratch and claw, and there were all five of them rolling over and over, scattering the sand on every side, and making such a noise that it woke Johnny out of his sound sleep. At first he was frightened, but Maggie told him what it was, and said wait and see what she would do. She pushed up the fly screen very softly, and then she brought the great big jug full of water, and leaning out,—splash! she emptied it full on the fighting, struggling cats. Oh! how they yelled! One jumped this way, and one jumped that; and the next moment not one was left except poor little Muffet, sitting in the middle of the box and crying pitifully. “Oh, poor Muffy!” said Johnny. “Poor Muffy all wet!” So then good Maggie ran down and brought Muffet up, and dried her with a towel, and comforted her till she purred. Johnny wanted to take her into bed with him, but Maggie said that never would do; so,—what do you think? She put her in the doll’s cradle with Susan Dolly, and covered her up, and told her to go to sleep, and she did!

MONOSYLLABICS

The black cat sat

In the fat man’s hat;

“Oh, dear!” the fat man said.

“May the great gray bat

Catch the bad black cat

Who has left me no hat

For my head!”

The big brown bear

Tried to curl his hair

To go to the Fair so gay.

But he looked such a fright

That his aunt took flight,

And he cried till night, they say.

A pale pink pig,

In a large blond wig,

Danced a wild, wild jig

On the lea;

But a rude old goat,

In a sky-blue coat,

Said, “You’re nought but a shoat, tee hee!”

A poor old King

Sold his gay gold ring

For to buy his old wife some cream;

But the cat lapped it up

With a sip and a sup,

And his tears ran down in a stream.

A large red cow

Tried to make a bow,

But did not know how,

They say.

For her legs got mixed,

And her horns got fixed,

And her tail would get

In her way.

A boy named Sam

Had a fat pet ram,

And gave him some jam

For his tea;

But the fat pet ram

Tried to butt poor Sam,

Till he had to turn

And flee.

A girl named Jane

Had a sad, bad pain

In the place where she wore

Her belt;

She mopped and she mowed,

And she screamed aloud,

Just to show the crowd

How she felt.

A sad, thin ape

Bought some wide white tape

To trim a new cape

For his niece;

But a bold buff calf,

With a loud, rude laugh,

Bit off one whole half

For his geese.

A pert, proud hen

Laid an egg, and then

Said “Cluck!” and “cluck!” and

“cluck!”

Said the cock, “Had I known

You would take that tone,

I would have wooed none

But a duck!”

THE NEW LEAVES

“Wake up!” said a clear little voice. Tommy woke, and sat up in bed. At the foot of the bed stood a boy about his own age, all dressed in white, like fresh snow. He had very bright eyes, and he looked straight at Tommy.

“Who are you?” asked Tommy.

“I am the New Year!” said the boy. “This is my day, and I have brought you your leaves.”

“What leaves?” asked Tommy.

“The new ones, to be sure!” said the New Year. “I hear bad accounts of you from my Daddy—”

“Who is your Daddy?” asked Tommy.

“The Old Year, of course!” said the boy. “He said you asked too many questions and I see he was right. He says you are greedy, too, and that you sometimes pinch your little sister, and that one day you threw your reader into the fire. Now, all this must stop.”

“Oh, must it?” said Tommy. He felt frightened, and did not know just what to say.

The boy nodded. “If it does not stop,” he said, “you will grow worse and worse every year, till you grow up into a Horrid Man. Do you want to be a Horrid Man?”

“N-no!” said Tommy.

“Then you must stop being a horrid boy!” said the New Year. “Take your leaves!” and he held out a packet of what looked like copy-book leaves, all sparkling white, like his own clothes.

“Turn over one of these every day,” he said, “and soon you will be a good boy instead of a horrid one.”

Tommy took the leaves and looked at them. On each leaf a few words were written. On one it said, “Help your mother!” On another, “Don’t pull the cat’s tail!” On another, “Don’t eat so much!” And on still another, “Don’t fight Billy Jenkins!”

“Oh!” cried Tommy. “I have to fight Billy Jenkins! He said—”

“Good-by!” said the New Year. “I shall come again when I am old to see whether you have been a good boy or a horrid one. Remember,

“Horrid boy makes horrid man;

You alone can change the plan.”

He turned away and opened the window. A cold wind blew in and swept the leaves out of Tommy’s hand. “Stop! stop!” he cried. “Tell me—” But the New Year was gone, and Tommy, staring after him, saw only his mother coming into the room. “Dear child!” she said. “Why, the wind is blowing everything about.”

“My leaves! My leaves!” cried Tommy; and jumping out of bed he looked all over the room, but he could not find one.

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “I can turn them just the same, and I mean to. I will not grow into a Horrid Man.” And he didn’t.

GRANDMOTHER’S ALPHABET

The Ant is so busy

It makes her quite dizzy,

She says that her head

Goes whirl-around-whizzy.

The Bunny is funny;

He cannot make honey,

Nor write with a pen,

Nor shoot with a gunny.

The Cow is not able

To sit at the table,

And so we must send her

To eat in the stable.

The Duck goes a-quacking

And clicking and clacking,

And eats all she finds

From beeswax to blacking.

The Elephant mighty

Can not find his nighty!

It makes him feel nervous,

And fractious and flighty.

The Fish has no wish

To be put in a dish,

So he’s off like a flash

With a swishety-swish.

The Goose has no use

For an Indian pappoose,

So she looks at it sadly,

And says, “What’s the use?”

The Hen lays an egg,

And stands on one leg,

And says, “Cut-ker-dah-cut!

Observe me, I beg!”

The Ibis is pretty,

But not very witty;

And when he is tired

He plays with the kitty.

The Jaguar so cruel

Was killed in a duel,

And left his poor wife

To eat nothing but gruel.

The kind Kangaroo

Has so little to do,

That he talks to the Moolly

And tries to say “Moo!”

The Lizard goes sighing,

And sobbing and crying,

Because his poor tail

Got shrunk in the dyeing.

The Moose is all humpy,

And grumpy and lumpy,

And if you say, “Boo!”

He is off with a thumpy.

The Newt has a neighbor

Who fights with a sabre,

And when he has conquered

He beats on a tabor.

The Owl and the Oyster

Went off for a royster,

And when they came back

They were put in a cloister.

The Pig bought a carrot

To give to his parrot:

But Poll was so frightened

She hid in the garret.

The Queen in her crown

And velvety gown,

She went to the circus,

And laughed at the clown.

The Ram and the Rattle-

Snake had a great battle:

For each called the other

A tittlety-tattle.

The Stork had a fancy

To go to a dancy,

But people said, “No!

You are rather too prancy!”

The timorous Tapir

Was reading the paper,

And found that his aunt

Had married a draper.

The Unicorn tried

On a camel to ride,

But there came a sad fall

To himself and his pride.

The Viper is vain,

And cannot explain

Why people persist so

In calling him plain.

The Woodchuck is wealthy,

And hearty and healthy:

But sometimes his movements

Are snooping and stealthy.

The Xiphias perks his

Head up to see Xerxes:

And thinks him much finer

Than Tartars or Turkses.

The Yammering Yak

Has spots on his back:

He can’t get them off,

So he puts on a sacque.

The Zebra with zeal

Was cooking a meal:

But he found it was onions

And stopped with a squeal.

THE NEW LEAF

“Why are you crying, Little Cat?” asked Little Dog.

“Because my paws are so cold!” said Little Cat. “I have been digging in the snow and I cannot find one.”

“One what?” asked Little Dog.

“One new leaf.”

“What do you want of a new leaf?”

“I want to turn it over, but there just aren’t any to turn.”

“Of course there aren’t!” said Little Dog. “It is winter.”

“But Little Girl is going to find one,” said Little Cat. “I heard her mother say to her, ‘You really must turn over a new leaf!’ and she said, ‘I truthfully will, Mamma!’ and when Little Girl says she truthfully will she always does. Then her mother kissed her, and said everybody had to turn over new leaves now, and she had some of her own to turn, so she knew just how it was. The door shut then—on the tip of my tail, too—and I heard no more; but what do you suppose it means?”

Little Dog shook his head. “We must ask somebody,” he said. “Let me see! Great Old Dog is out for a walk, and Crosspatch Parrot bit me the last time I asked her a question.”

“I know,” said Little Cat. “We will ask Old Cat in the Barn. She knows a good many things, and if she isn’t catching rats—but she generally is—she will tell us.”