Baby Pitchers Trials | Page 2

will be pleasant when it clears off, I guess; don't you?"
"It generally is," said mamma, quietly; and then she went on with her
work and paid no more attention to Flora. Now that was unusual
conduct. What did mamma mean? In thinking about it, Flora forgot her
own troubles, and forgot all about the rain, though at that moment it
was beating fiercely against the window, and the cold wind was
begging to come in. By and by she carried the footstool to her mother's
side and seated herself demurely.
"I am going to tell you a story," she said. "It is a story, but it is the truth,
too. Want to hear it?"

Mamma assented.
"Well. Once, a good while ago, almost as much as a week, somebody
went a-fishing. It wasn't Charley or Bertie or Amy or me. His mother
told him never to do it because he might tumble in, you know. But he
did; he went."
"What a naughty boy!" said mamma, gravely.
"But he wasn't a boy."
"Excuse me," said mamma, "I thought he was."
"And he wasn't a girl."
"No?"
"No. You could never guess what he was."
"Then you will have to tell me."
"He was a fly."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond
was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know."
"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very
fond of sweets."
"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug. He was trying to catch some milk
and he tumbled in."
"What a pity!"
"Yes, and his mamma wasn't there, and the milk drownded him. And I
hope he will remember it as long as he lives, and never do so any more.
Wasn't that a good story?"

"It was a very good story."
"Did it make you feel better?"
"A great deal better; and now I will tell you a story."
"Oh, goody!"
Flora brushed the curls back from her face and prepared to listen.
"Once upon a time," said mamma.
"Long ago?"
"Not so very long ago."
"Much as a week?"
"Oh, no; not so much as a week. We will say about two days."
"Well."
"Once upon a time--"
"About two days ago?"
"Yes, dear. In a little white palace no larger than this house, there lived
a king and a queen, a tall princess and a little princess."
"Oh oo!" said Flora.
"And the king could not always remain in the pretty palace, because it
was necessary for him to go abroad to provide food and clothing for his
family. The queen, the tall princess and the little princess, were his
family."
"Yes," said Flora.
"And the tall princess could not always stay in the palace, because she

expected to be a queen herself some day, and her mamma--I mean the
queen--wanted her to be a wise one; so she sent her away to school
every morning. But the queen and the little princess stayed in the
palace, and it often happened that they were left at home together."
"Just like us."
"Yes, dear. The princess used to run about and play out of doors like
other little girls when the weather was pleasant, and when it was not
she amused herself in doors with her toys and her pets."
"Did she have a white mouse, do you think?"
"I think she had a white mouse."
"And a grandma?"
"I am almost certain that she had a grandma."
"But the grandma did not live in the palace?"
"Oh, no. The grandma lived in a house not far from the palace, and the
tall princess and the little princess used to visit her almost every day."
"Well."
"The queen and the little princess were very happy together until
something happened. It was a long storm that happened, and there was
no sunshine in the palace for more than two days."
Flora, reminded of the rain, glanced at the window against which the
big drops were rattling merrily, but quickly turned to mamma again, for
she did not wish to lose one word of the story.
"Now when the sun did not shine in the palace it was a very gloomy
place, not like a palace at all, and the queen was sad and the princess
unhappy. The princess did not know why she was unhappy, but the
queen knew. It was because there was no sunshine to make little faces
look pleasant and cheerful. It made the queen sad to see the little

princess unhappy and discontented, so she thought she would try to
make some sunshine."
"Did she?"
"No," said mamma. "I am sorry to say that the poor queen worked very
hard, but she had forgotten how to make it."