articlesforchristians

One day, Peter and Polly went to their father’s store for mother. On the way home, they noticed some burdock plants.

“See,” said Polly, “they are just covered with burrs. As soon as we carry this sugar home, we will come back here and pick some.”

“I will pick one now,” said Peter. “Oh, my! Oh, my! How prickly it is! Why shall we come back and pick burrs? I do not like to.”

“Burrs are prickly,” said Polly. “I felt of them yesterday. One of the big girls had some. She was making baskets out of them. It will be fun for us to do that.”

So the children carried home the sugar. They told mother about the burdock burrs. Then they went back to pick them.

Have you ever picked any? If you have, you know that they cling to your fingers. And they cling to one another. They do not wish to let go.

Peter made his burrs into a round ball. He said, “Here is a good baseball. In a minute, I shall make it as large as a football.”

“Your baseball is a soft one,” said Polly. “You cannot bat it very well. If you kick your football, it will come to pieces.”

“I shall try it just the same,” said Peter. “When are you going to make your baskets?”

“I have picked enough burrs now,” said Polly. “Let us sit on the grass near the sidewalk. Then I will show you how to make them.”

Polly stuck ten or twelve burrs together. She kept them flat like a mat. Then around the edge she stuck a row which stood up straight. Then another on that, and another until the outside of the basket was high enough.

After that she made a handle from one side to the other. She said, “That is a good basket. Of course, I cannot carry it by the handle, for then the handle would come off.”

“Let us make some other baskets,” said Peter. “I can make one that is smaller than yours. I wish that the burrs did not stick to my fingers so.”

“I will make a basket with square corners, now,” said Polly.

“I wish that I could make a hat,” said Peter. “You do it for me.”

Polly made a very good hat. Then she made another.

She said, “Those hats are too small. I am going to make quite a large plate. I am going to have that for my hat.”

She made the plate. She put it on her head. She pressed it down hard. Her hair was very thick and curly. The burrs caught in her thick hair. The hat stayed nicely.

“I have found a hat that will not come off when the wind blows,” said Polly. “I like it very much.” And she pressed down the burrs again.

“Let’s go home now,” said Peter. “We can take our football and the baskets and the hats. You can take off your big hat to show to mother.”

Polly put up her hand. She pulled at the burdock burrs. The hat began to come to pieces. A few burrs came off her head. But the others were caught in her hair.

She could not get rid of them without pulling her hair very badly. The more she tried, the more her hair became gnarled.

At last she said, “Oh Peter! What shall I do I What shall I do? My hair is all mixed up with those old burrs. I cannot get them out.”

“Let me do it,” said Peter. He pulled off a few more pieces. He tried to be careful. But he pulled Polly’s hair very badly.

At last she said, “You cannot do that anymore. It hurts too much. Besides you will pull out all my hair. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”

“Come,” said Peter. “Mother will fix it.”

The children ran to find mother.

“Oh mother!” Polly cried. “See what I have done. I put some burdock burrs on my head for a hat. Now I cannot get them off. Can you, mother?”

“Perhaps I can, dear. I will try. But I may hurt you. Can you be a brave little girl? Or should you rather have me cut some of your hair?”

“Have it cut, Polly,” said Peter, “It is fun to have short hair.”

“No,” said Polly. “I like my hair. It curls. I can be brave and let you pull, mother.”

So mother carefully picked the burrs from Polly’s curls. It took a long, long time. Before she was finished, Polly was very tired. So was mother. But Polly was not cross once.

She said, “I know that you cannot help pulling, mother. And I think it is good of you to help me. If you did not, I should have to get Peter’s barber to cut my hair short like Peter’s. I am never going to wear a burr hat again.”

Polly’s mother only said, “I shall be glad, if you do not.”