Five Minutes' Stories. Molesworth Mrs.

Max's father of course. And then came a joyful cry.

      "I have him. Up here fast asleep, like a bird in its nest."

      Yes, there he was, coiled among the branches, unconscious of his fearful peril.

      "I found God's ladder," he said, "but when I got to the top, Him wasn't there. So I waited till Him came to light the candles to ask Him to let me peep into heaven, mamma. But I was going to come down again – Mamma dear, why is you crying?"

      A FOUR-FOOTED GENTLEMAN

      OPEN the door, quick, Sybil. Don't you see my hands are full? What a stupid you are! Yes, that'll do. Now you can shut it after me."

      And Archie came forward to the table where his aunt was sitting, a large tray spread over with specimens of seaweed that he had been drying and arranging, in his hands.

      "Since when, have 'if you please' and 'thank you,' gone out of fashion, may I ask, Archie?" said his aunt.

      The boy grew very red, but he laughed good-humouredly.

      "I didn't mean to be rude," he said. "But Sybil doesn't mind. Do you, Sybil?"

      "No," replied the little girl. "Archie isn't ever really unkind like some boys. Still I think it is nice when people thank you and speak politely to each other. But still, of course, Archie is only a boy."

      "And can a boy not be a gentleman, do you think, Sybil? What do you say about it yourself, Archie?"

      "Oh, I know I should," he replied rather shamefacedly, "but you see, Auntie, I forget, or else even if I don't forget, it doesn't seem worth while."

      "Be true to your instincts, my boy. Civility and gentleness are always 'worth while.' Above all, from man to woman, or boy to girl. And gratitude even for the smallest service is always the sign of a fine nature. That reminds me – "

      "Of what? Do tell us, Auntie;" said both children, pricking up their ears.

      "Of a little adventure of mine the other day. It is nothing of a story, so don't expect one;" for the word "adventure" had evidently caught their attention. "But it was so pretty and touching, it struck me very much, and made me think how often we might, with benefit, take example by our humble brethren – even in manners, children."

      "Do you mean poor people?" said Sybil doubtfully. "I know some are very good and nice – some quite poor children even. But a good many are very rough and rude, Auntie?"

      "Yes, and there is much more excuse for them, of course, if they are so, for often they have not been taught better. But I was not thinking of people or children at all just then, Sybil. The little 'gentleman' whose manners I admired so much was a – " She stopped again and smiled, while Archie and Sybil looked up in perplexity.

      "A what, Auntie?"

      "A little dog, my dears! – Yes, you may well look surprised. Listen and I will tell you all about it. I was going from my own house to a friend's a few days ago, walking leisurely, for I was in no hurry, and had not far to go. It was a quiet time of the day, and not many people were about. I had made my way across our own square and some short way down a street opening out of it when my attention was caught by the sight of a little dog wandering along in an uneasy, rather aimless manner. He was alone evidently, for there was no one in sight whom he could be following – an errand boy or two, a postman and I, were, I think, the only passers-by at the time. And he was far too aristocratic a little dog to have anything to do with butchers' or bakers' boys. He was very pretty and well cared for; his soft, flossy coat had evidently been recently washed and combed, and there was a general air of healthiness and prosperity about him, though he was neither over-fat nor pampered-looking. But just now he was clearly in trouble. He ran a few steps and then looked round him irresolutely; his bright eyes glanced all about him anxiously. I wondered what was the matter and stopped short half intending to pat him or speak to him, when suddenly, seeming to catch sight of me for the first time, he made the first advances by trotting up to me and sniffing me in an inquiring manner. He liked what he saw of me; for he gave a little quick friendly bark, and then, wagging his tail, looked up at me appealingly, ran on a few steps and then stopped short, looking back to see if I were following him, and when I did so, again he barked, again he ran on a few steps, and stood looking back wagging his tail. It was as plain as any spoken words; he was asking me to do him a service. And thus he led me down the street, round a corner, and a few steps along another row of houses, where he stopped in front of a door, looking and wagging his tail, without going on further. Nobody could have failed to understand him.

      "'Here is my home, kind lady. I have got shut out, please to ring the bell for me.'

      "I rang of course, and very quickly the door was opened, and in he rushed, and, satisfied that he was all right, I was turning away, when – this is the point of my story – I heard a bustle and fuss just inside the closing door, my friend's bark, rather vehement this time, a voice in remonstrance 'what can he want?' then the door opened and out he sprang again. He looked round eagerly, and as soon as he saw me stood still on the doorstep, gave a quick cheerful little bark, wagging his tail with the greatest energy the while, and with still another 'bow-wow,' turned round and ran in quietly. It was the plainest 'thank you ma'am for being so kind,' that ever was spoken in dog or any language. Now don't you call that behaving like a gentleman?"

      "Yes indeed," said the children heartily, and Archie, whose trayful was ready for some other process by this time, turned to Sybil with deference.

      "Please, Sybil, will you kindly open the door?"

      She did so, and he disappeared, but in a moment his voice was again heard begging for re-admittance.

      "I beg your pardon," he said, "I have come back again to say 'thank you.' If I had a tail to wag I could do so."

      But though they got some fun out of it, I don't think Auntie's anecdote did Master Archie any harm.

      THE BAD FAIRY

      THERE is a bad fairy in this house. I don't care what you say. There must be. Here have I been hours hunting everywhere for my silver whistle. I know I had it yesterday evening, and I haven't been out since, and we can't play at our hunt in the wood without it. And they're all waiting for us. It's too bad – it is," and Leonard stamped about the room, flinging everything topsy-turvy in his vain search.

      "And my umbrella, and my sleeve stud," said David, his two years older brother. "They have completely disappeared. Upon my word, Leonard, I think you're right, this house is bewitched."

      "Master Leonard, please, here's your whistle. Cook found it just now lying beside the pump in the garden."

      "There now – didn't I say so? It must be a bad fairy. Was I near the pump in the garden last night? How did the whistle get there, if it wasn't bewitched?" said Leonard, as he and David hurried off.

      It was true he had not been near the pump, but he had left the whistle among some flowers on the nursery table, and "baby," as his six-years old sister was called, had thrown it into the basket with the remains of her nosegays. What more easy than for the heavy whistle to drop out of the lightly made open wicker work, as the nursemaid was carrying the withered flowers and leaves to throw away? David's umbrella, had he known it, was at that moment reposing in the pew-opener's care among various "lost and strayed" articles at church; and the sleeve stud was safely ensconced in a mouse-hole behind the chest of drawers on which it had been carelessly laid, to be flung off again in a frantic hunt for some fish hooks, whose disappearance no doubt Leonard explained in the same way.