American Fairy Tales | Page 7

are bloodthirsty
and terrible."
"'Tis so!" gasped the fat man, with a shudder.
Suddenly Martha turned from the window.
"You are my friends, are you not?" she asked.
"We are devoted!" answered Victor.
"We adore you!" cried Beni.
"We would die for you!" added Lugui, thinking he was about to die

anyway.
"Then I will save you," said the girl.
"How?" asked the three, with one voice.
"Get back into the chest," she said. "I will then close the lid, so they
will be unable to find you."
They looked around the room in a dazed and irresolute way, but she
exclaimed:
"You must be quick! They will soon be here to arrest you."
Then Lugui sprang into the chest and lay fat upon the bottom. Beni
tumbled in next and packed himself in the back side. Victor followed
after pausing to kiss her hand to the girl in a graceful manner.
Then Martha ran up to press down the lid, but could not make it catch.
"You must squeeze down," she said to them.
Lugui groaned.
"I am doing my best, miss," said Victor, who was nearest the top; "but
although we fitted in very nicely before, the chest now seems rather
small for us."
"'Tis so!" came the muffled voice of the fat man from the bottom.
"I know what takes up the room," said Beni.
"What?" inquired Victor, anxiously.
"The pie," returned Beni.
"'Tis so!" came from the bottom, in faint accents.
Then Martha sat upon the lid and pressed it down with all her weight.

To her great delight the lock caught, and, springing down, she exerted
all her strength and turned the key.
* * * * *
This story should teach us not to interfere in matters that do not
concern us. For had Martha refrained from opening Uncle Walter's
mysterious chest she would not have been obliged to carry downstairs
all the plunder the robbers had brought into the attic.

THE GLASS DOG.

An accomplished wizard once lived on the top floor of a tenement
house and passed his time in thoughtful study and studious thought.
What he didn't know about wizardry was hardly worth knowing, for he
possessed all the books and recipes of all the wizards who had lived
before him; and, moreover, he had invented several wizardments
himself.
This admirable person would have been completely happy but for the
numerous interruptions to his studies caused by folk who came to
consult him about their troubles (in which he was not interested), and
by the loud knocks of the iceman, the milkman, the baker's boy, the
laundryman and the peanut woman. He never dealt with any of these
people; but they rapped at his door every day to see him about this or
that or to try to sell him their wares. Just when he was most deeply
interested in his books or engaged in watching the bubbling of a
cauldron there would come a knock at his door. And after sending the
intruder away he always found he had lost his train of thought or ruined
his compound.
At length these interruptions aroused his anger, and he decided he must
have a dog to keep people away from his door. He didn't know where
to find a dog, but in the next room lived a poor glass-blower with
whom he had a slight acquaintance; so he went into the man's

apartment and asked:
"Where can I find a dog?"
"What sort of a dog?" inquired the glass-blower.
"A good dog. One that will bark at people and drive them away. One
that will be no trouble to keep and won't expect to be fed. One that has
no fleas and is neat in his habits. One that will obey me when I speak to
him. In short, a good dog," said the wizard.
"Such a dog is hard to find," returned the glass-blower, who was busy
making a blue glass flower pot with a pink glass rosebush in it, having
green glass leaves and yellow glass roses.
The wizard watched him thoughtfully.
"Why cannot you blow me a dog out of glass?" he asked, presently.
"I can," declared the glass-blower; "but it would not bark at people, you
know."
"Oh, I'll fix that easily enough," replied the other. "If I could not make
a glass dog bark I would be a mighty poor wizard."
"Very well; if you can use a glass dog I'll be pleased to blow one for
you. Only, you must pay for my work."
"Certainly," agreed the wizard. "But I have none of that horrid stuff you
call money. You must take some of my wares in exchange."
The glass-blower considered the matter for a moment.
"Could you give me something to cure my rheumatism?" he asked.