What Two Children Did | Page 6

and the angels would just peek out a minute, I'd be
thankful," said Elizabeth.

CHAPTER V The New Way
It's--hard--to--work-- And easy to play; I'll tell you what we've done,
We play our work And work our play, And all the hard is gone.
The children were always glad when Mrs. Flaharty came to wash, for
she was never too busy to talk to them, nor to let them wash dolls'
clothes in some of her suds, nor, in her own way, to converse, and to

explain things to them.
One Monday morning the two were in the back yard with gingham
aprons tied around their waists for trails, and with one of Aunty
Stevens' bright saucepans which they put on their heads in turn. In this
rig, they felt that their appearance left little to be desired.
They were having literary exercises while Mrs. Flaharty was hanging
the white clothes on the line, and, by reason of her exceeding interest in
the proceedings, she took her time about it too.
In the midst of Ethelwyn's recitation of "Mary Had a Little Lamb," she
paused to say, after, "The eager children cry,"
"What do you s'pose the silly things cried for?"
"'Cause they didn't have any lamb, prob'ly," promptly replied Elizabeth
from the audience, where she sat surrounded by her dolls. "Hurry up,
sister, it's my turn."
"Is it ager, children, you're askin' about?" asked Mrs. Flaharty, flopping
out a sheet. "If you'd ever had the ager, what wid the pain in your bones
an' the faver in your blood, you'd be likely to cry--whin you had the
stren'th."
"Is it shaking ager?" asked Elizabeth doubtfully. "Oh, I didn't know that.
Come and sit down on the steps, Mrs. Flaharty, and I'll tell a story I
made up for this special 'casion."
"It's troo wid the white does I am, an' I reckin I can sit and take me
breath before I begin on the colored; besides, I'd have to be takin' away
the foine costumes ye has roun' your waists, if I wint now." So Mrs.
Flaharty sat down ponderously.
"I've a poem, too," said Ethelwyn, taking her place in the audience, and
Elizabeth began:
"Once there was a little boy whose father was cross to him, and kept

him home all the while, and when he let him go anywhere, he said he
'mustn't' and 'don't' so much, it spoiled all his fun. Once the boy went in
the woods where lived a fairy prince. 'Go not near the fairy prince,' had
said the boy's father so much that the boy thought he'd die if he did. So
the fairy prince looked over the back fence and said, 'Avast there,' so
the boy avasted as fast as he could. 'I'm in trouble,' said the fairy prince.
'What about?' said the boy. 'I can walk only on one foot till somebody
cuts off my little toe,' said the prince.
"So the boy did it with his father's razor, and it thundered and lightened,
and his father came and scolded over the back fence, but the prince
waved his magic cut toe; then they all banged and went up on a Fourth
of July sky rocket, till the father fell off and bumped all his crossness
out of him, and like birds of a fevver, they all lived togevver
afterwards."
"The saints be praised," said Mrs. Flaharty, fanning herself with her
apron.
Then Ethelwyn came forward. "This is my poem," she said, bowing to
the audience.
"A little girl lived way down East, She rose and rose, like bread with
yeast, She rose above the tallest people, And far above the highest
steeple. She kept right on till by and by She took a peek into the sky--"
"Oh, what did she see?" asked Elizabeth, interested at once.
"That you can guess," replied the poet with dignity. "Mother says she
likes poems and pictures that you can put something into from your
own something or other, I forget what--you let folks guess about it."
"My sister is smart," complacently remarked Elizabeth to Nan, who had
just come over.
"So am I, then," said Nan, not to be outdone. "I can make up beautiful
poems."

"Let's hear one."
So Nan came forward, bowed profoundly and began:
"I have a little kitty, Who is so very pretty, Tho' growing large and fat,
I fear she'll be a cat. One day, my sakes, she saw a dog, Her tail swelled
up just like a log; He barked, she spit, She does not love dogs, not a
bit."
"What color is she?" asked Ethelwyn.
"That is left for your guessing part," said Nan promptly.
Mrs. Flaharty now reluctantly arose.
"It's a trate to hear ye," she said, "but I mus' git troo, and go home.
There's