articlesforchristians

Peter’s Funny Bed

One morning Peter said to Polly, “I have seen plenty of red leaves. I am glad about it. I wish to have winter soon.”

“I am not glad about it, Peter. I think that the red leaves are pretty. But by and by they will all fall from the trees. After that, cold weather will come.”

“Yes, it will,” said Peter. “The snow and the ice will be here. That is what I like. I think that summer has been long enough.”

“I wish that it would last all the year,” said Polly. “We stay out of doors more in the summer. It is Saturday, today. I am going to play up at Tim’s. Will you come?

“Yes,” said Peter, “I will. I am glad that it is Saturday. You can play with me all day.”

Polly and Peter and Tim went into the pasture back of Tim’s house. There had been a frost in the night. But it had not hurt the grass and the flowers much.

“It is time for nuts,” said Tim. “We will get butternuts over in your field, Peter. But we can get beechnuts up here in my woods. Shall we today?”

“No,” said Polly. “Let’s not today. Let’s go to the sandbank and play in the sand. We can hunt for beechnuts some other time.”

The sandbank was high. Near the top there were many, many round holes. The children knew what made them.

“See the swallows’ holes,” said Polly. “I believe that there are more than ever.”

“I should like to see inside one,” said Tim. “It must be dark.”

“We must let those holes alone,” said Polly. “I think that the swallows have all gone south, but maybe they have not. We must not touch their homes.”

“We cannot reach them anyway,” said Tim. “I tried it the other day. I was not going to hurt the holes. I just wished to look into them.”

“Let’s build forts,” said Peter. “I will build one here.”

At the bottom of the sandbank the soft sand was deep. It was a fine place to play.

“I will get some sticks for soldiers,” said Polly. “Then they will capture your fort.”

“They will not,” said Peter. “I shall make my fort too strong. Besides I shall have some big guns on the top.”

“I shall not play war,” said Tim. “I shall build a city. See, here are my streets. Here are my houses. These sticks are my people. This great big house is a church.”

It was fun playing in the sand. It got into the children’s shoes. And Tim put some sand down Peter’s neck. The sun was very bright and hot. It did not seem like autumn.

At last Peter said, “I have built enough things. What else shall we play?”

“I know,” said Polly. “Let us dig holes and bury ourselves.”

Soon three holes were dug. But the children could not cover themselves up very well. So Polly said, “We will take turns.”

“Bury me first, then,” said Peter. “I have worked hard. I am tired. The hole will be a nice soft bed.”

“You are always tired or hungry,” said Polly. “I think that you are just lazy. But Tim and I will bury you. We will let you be first this time.”

So Polly and Tim covered Peter all over except his face. Then Polly put Peter’s hat over his face so that the sun would not shine in his eyes.

She said, “You may stay buried until we call you. Then it will be our turn.”

She and Tim played in the sand for a few minutes. Then they went farther up the field. In this way, they could get on top of the high sandbank.

They lay down and looked over the edge. They could see Peter. He was perfectly still.

Polly called to him. “Peter, Peter,” she said. “Do you wish to come up here with us?”

Peter did not answer. He did not move.

“He has gone to sleep,” said Polly. “How funny! I know something. Let’s leave him there. He will get enough of being buried. He will not wish to be first, the next time.”

After quite a long while, Peter woke. He had forgotten where he was. He tried to turn over. But he could not.

“What is the matter with me?” he thought to himself. “Where am I? What is on my face? I feel very odd.”

At last he remembered. Then he called, “Polly! Polly! Come and dig me out! I have been buried long enough. I do not like my bed anymore.

Polly did not answer.

He called again and again.

Then he said to himself, “Well, I do believe that she has gone off and left me here. I must dig myself out.”

At last he stood up. He was covered with sand. But that would brush off. He was not very much pleased with Polly and Tim.

As he started home he said, “Sometimes, when I go to sleep, nice things happen. Once I caught a fish. And sometimes things happen that are not nice. It was not nice to be left all alone.”