Peter and Polly: The Circus
The Circus
Archive for the ‘Peter and Polly Series’ Category
“Boys,” said Polly, “I know just how to have a circus. First, we must make a ring. We will use sticks of wood from the wood pile. I asked father if we might.
Peter and Polly: The Tent Store
Peter and Polly had not really waited very long when Tim came past. He saw the tents in Peter’s yard. They were quite near the road.
“What are you doing?” he called. “Are you playing something? I wish to play, too.”
“We have a store,” said Polly. “We are selling lemonade and sandwiches. Do you wish to buy?”
“Yes,” said Tim. “I do. I have some money. My mother just gave it to me. I was going to the store for candy. I will buy a glass of lemonade.”
“Have you two cents?” asked Polly. “It will be two cents.”
“Here it is, Polly. And I have more than that. I will buy some sandwiches. How much are they, Peter?”
“I will sell you all there are on this plate for two cents, Tim,” said Peter.
“Oh Peter!” cried Polly. “You must not do that. You do not charge enough. Sell him four for two cents. They are big ones, anyway.”
“I wish that I could play with you,” said Tim. “I could help sell things.”
“Come into my tent then,” said Peter. “You may play with us.”
In just a few minutes Tim’s father drove up the road.
“Father, father!” called Tim. “Here is a store. You must stop and buy something.”
“Whoa,” said his father to the horse. “What have you to sell? Why, it looks like lemonade. That is just what I need. Give me a glass. Yes, that is good. Give me another glass, Polly. Now, how much do I owe you?”
“Two cents for each glass, please. That will be four cents.”
“That is very cheap,” said Tim’s father. “At the circus, we have to pay ten cents a glass. And, at the fair, it costs five cents. I think that I will pay you ten cents for the two glasses.”
“Thank you very much,” said Polly. “I hope you will come again.”
“Now, father, you must buy something to eat,” said Tim. “That is what Peter and I are selling.”
“Very well,” said his father. “I believe that I am hungry. And supper time is a long way off. How much are the sandwiches?”
“I will give you all there are on that plate for five cents,” said Peter.
“No, you will not, Peter,” said Tim. “I had just four for two cents. So that is all you can have, father.”
“That will be quite enough,” said his father. “Give me four of those big ones, and you may have this five-cent piece. Here comes your grandmother, Polly. Perhaps she will be a good customer.”
Polly’s grandmother lives down the road just a little way. She is Mr. Howe’s mother.
“Oh grandmother, will you buy something from us?” called the children.
“That is just what I came for,” said grandmother. “I heard you were keeping a store.”
“How did you hear it, grandmother?” asked Peter.
“A little bird told me, Peter. Haven’t you any cookies to sell? I must have cookies for supper. Oh, yes, I see them. Run into the house, Peter. Get a paper bag for them.”
Polly counted the cookies for Peter. He could not count very well. There were just one dozen.
“I will give you ten cents for those cookies,” said grandmother. “And now, Polly, I will drink a glass of your good lemonade. Here are three cents for it. Goodbye.”
“Let’s drink up the rest,” said Polly. “I am thirsty. Besides we have enough money. We can eat up the rest of the sandwiches, too. I have thought of something to do tomorrow.”
“Let’s have another store,” said Peter.
“No,” said Polly. “We will have a circus. Tim’s father made me think of it. He said something about lemonade at the circus.”
“How can we?” asked Tim.
“I will think and tell you tomorrow morning,” said Polly. “You come down early. Now let’s carry the things back into the house.”
Peter and Polly: Clotheshorse Tents
Mother,” said Polly, “can you make us a tent?”
“A tent?” asked mother. “What for?”
“To play in, mother. Some of the other children have tents. I should like one.”
“Perhaps they bought theirs, Polly.”
“Yes, they did, mother. But I thought that maybe you could make one. You do make us things.”
“Perhaps I can, Polly. Let me see. Yes, I think of a way. Come and help me.”
Mother went out into the back kitchen. She had some clotheshorses there.
She said, “Take hold of the end of this clotheshorse, Polly. We will carry it out of doors. It is quite heavy. But you can do it. Now here is a good place. We will stand it up. Let us go for the other.”
“They are just the shape of some tents,” said Polly. “How did you think of them, mother? But they are not quite right. They have no roofs.”
“That is so, Polly. We will find something for roofs.”
The two clotheshorses were set up side by side. Some old blankets and shawls were spread over them.
“Oh, goody, goody!” shouted Polly. “Now we have our tents. They are good ones, too. Thank you, mother.”
“What shall we play?” asked Peter.
“Come into my tent, Peter. We will sit down. Guess what I thought of playing.”
“Is it soldiers?” asked Peter. “Soldiers sleep in tents.”
“No, but soldiers would be a good game. We can play that sometime. Guess again.”
“Hunters,” said Peter. “When father goes hunting and fishing, he has a tent.”
“No, but that would be a good game. I shall remember that one.”
.”You tell, then,” said Peter. “I cannot spend anymore time guessing.”
“We will get mother to let us have something to eat. We will have a tent picnic.”
“That is a good game, Polly. What can we have to eat? And can we have something to drink?”
“We can have bread and sugar, and bread and jelly. And maybe we can have cookies. Perhaps mother will make us some lemonade. It is quite a hot day.”
“Let us ask her now,” said Peter, “I am very hungry.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Polly. “I have thought of something better. Let us have lemonade to sell. We can charge two cents a glass. Perhaps somebody will buy.”
“I should rather have the picnic,” said Peter. “I told you that I am very hungry.”
“But you like to keep store, Peter. You will like to play this.”
“All right,” said Peter. “Let us ask mother.”
Mother said, “Yes.” She went into the kitchen to make lemonade and sandwiches.
“May we take the four wooden chairs that are in the back kitchen, mother?” asked Polly. “We will put boards across them. They will be our counters.”
Mother said, “Yes,” again. So Peter and Polly made a counter in front of Peter’s tent. Then, with the two other chairs, they made a counter in front of Polly’s tent.
Mother gave them some clean glasses. She said, “You can use each glass only once. It is not right to let anyone drink out of a used glass. Polly, you may sell the lemonade.”
“Then Peter may sell the sandwiches,” said Polly. “He likes those best, so he will be glad. See, Peter! You have three plates full of sandwiches. Do not eat them all.”
“No,” said Peter. “I will leave a few to sell.” And he sat down on the grass behind his counter.
After a few minutes he said, “I am getting tired of waiting for someone to buy. I am going to begin to eat my things up now.”
Peter and Polly: The Doll Family
The Doll Family
See what I have, Peter,” said Polly.
“What are they, Polly?”
“They are acorns. They came from oak trees. Here are some oak leaves.”
“I never saw any acorns before. They look like nuts. What are they good for?”
“To play with, Peter. I will show you how, soon. And they are good for squirrels.”
“Squirrels get all the nuts,” said Peter. “Tim and I cannot find anymore beechnuts. We know where they are, too. Those old squirrels have them.”
“What if they have?” asked Polly. “You cannot have everything that there is to eat.”
“Are acorns good to eat, Polly?”
“These are not very good,” said Polly. “But the squirrels like them. One of the big boys gave me these. He got them up on the hill. He says many oak trees grow there. He gave me these oak leaves, too. Aren’t they pretty?”
“Yes,” said Peter. “They are not like elm leaves. They are not like maple leaves. And they are not like beech leaves.”
“See what a dark red they are, Peter. I wish that we had some oak trees here.”
“So do I,” said Peter. “Let’s plant an acorn. Maybe it will grow. How do you play with acorns?”
“I shall have a dolls’ party,” said Polly. “We can have it on the front steps. Let us bring out the family.”
Polly and Peter had a large family. It was made up of Mr. and Mrs. Rag Doll and eight children. Mother and grandmother had given the dolls to them.
Polly had other beautiful dolls. One was two feet tall. But she liked the family best. She could play harder with them.
Mrs. Rag Doll sat on one step with four children. Mr. Rag Doll sat on the step above with four children.
Polly always played Mrs. Rag Doll. Peter always played Mr. Rag Doll.
MRS. RAG DOLL: “Can’t you keep your children still? They are all jumping around.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “No, I cannot. Why don’t you keep yours still?”
MRS. RAG DOLL: “They would be still, if your children would stop kicking them.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “It is time for them to have their tea, anyway. Where are those new cups?”
Polly put an acorn in its cup in the lap of each doll. She set cups without the acorns on the step beside each doll.
Then Mrs. Rag Doll said, “Now they each have a cup of tea. They each have a plate of cake, too. Perhaps they will behave.”
The children did not behave. Just as soon as they had finished eating, they began to push and pinch one another.
The boys threw their cups and saucers on the grass. Then the girls threw their plates on the grass. Their mother and their father were ashamed of them.
MRS. RAG DOLL: “What shall we do with these naughty children I They have not been so bad for a long time.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “They have not been to a party for a long time. They have forgotten how to behave. I think they have broken all the dishes.”
MRS. RAG DOLL: “Oh, dear! How dreadful. I shall take them straight home. I shall put them to bed.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “I will help you. They ought to be punished. Maybe I shall spank them.”
“No, you will not, Peter. Mother does not spank us,” said Polly.
“She does not send us to bed in the afternoon, either, Polly,” said Peter.
“That is so,” said Polly. “Then I shall not do it.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “Perhaps they are not feeling well. Sometimes I am cross when I do not feel well.”
MRS. RAG DOLL: “Perhaps that is so. I will hold my four in my arms and comfort them. Then they will feel better.”
MR. RAG DOLL: “I will hold my four in my arms and comfort them. Then they will get well.”
So Polly and Peter gathered their large family up in their arms. They carried them into the house and upstairs to the playroom.
There they sat down to comfort their naughty dolls.
Peter and Polly Series: The Lost Pig
The Lost Pig
One day the blacksmith drove to Large Village. He drove in his high wagon. It was filled with many things. Some of these things were iron and rattled.
But the funniest noise in the wagon was, “Grunt, grunt.” This noise was made by a little black pig.
The blacksmith had said to him, “Little pig, I am going to take you for a drive. You shall go with me to Large Village.”
“Grunt, grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.
“There is a man at Large Village who wants you. He will feed you well. You will grow fat. Then he will make pork of you.”
“Grunt, grunt, grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.
“Now I will put you into this bag. I will tie the bag around your neck, so. Your head will be out of the bag. You can look about and enjoy your ride.
“But the bag will be around your feet. It will keep them still. So you cannot jump out of the wagon.”
“Grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.
“Now in you go! Be a good little pig. You may talk to me, if you wish. But do not try to roll out.”
The little pig did talk. He said over and over, “Grunt, grunt, grunt.”
Perhaps this meant, “I do not like to be tied up in a bag. I do not wish to be made into pork. I will roll out, if I can.”
By and by, the blacksmith overtook a man who was walking. He gave the man a ride.
Then he forgot about the little pig. He did not hear the little pig’s grunts. Instead, he talked to the man.
The little pig did not lie still. He wiggled and wiggled. At last he had wiggled to the end of the wagon.
The very next minute, out he rolled. He fell on the road, bump! But the dust was deep and soft and he was not hurt.
The blacksmith did not hear him fall. The iron in the wagon made too much noise for that. So he drove on to Large Village.
The little pig did not like the road. He did not like the bag. So he began to kick again.
Before you could think, he had rolled himself down the bank by the side of the road. There he lay.
That very same day Peter and Polly drove to Large Village. Their father took them.
Polly was driving. She was going very slowly. All at once she said, “What is that?”
“Stop and see,” said father.
“Grunt, grunt, grunt,” came from the side of the road.
“I can hear a pig,” said Peter. “But where is he?”
“I see him,” said father. And down he jumped. “Well, I never!” he said. “Somebody must have lost him out of a wagon. I call that a good joke.”
“I wonder whose pig he is,” said Polly.
“I don’t know,” said father. “But, if you like, you may ask the people we meet if they have lost him. Somebody may come back to look for him.”
So Polly asked the very next man they met.
“Lost a pig?” he said. “No, I haven’t. What do you mean?”
When they showed him the little pig he laughed. Then he drove on.
Next, they met two ladies. Polly was sure that they were driving back to look for the little pig.
So she called, “We have your pig.”
“Our pig?” said the ladies. “We have no pig.”
Then Mr. Howe told them about the pig. They smiled at Polly.
One of them said, “We have no little girl either. And I wish that we had.”
“Don’t you wish for a little boy, too?” asked Peter.
“We should very much like a little girl, a little boy, and a little black pig,” said the lady.
“Perhaps you may have the pig,” said Polly. “Perhaps we cannot find the owner.”
The ladies laughed. Then one said, “If we cannot have the girl and the boy, we will not have the pig.” And they drove on.
Soon Polly saw the blacksmith driving along. When he came near, she began to call, “We’ve found a pig! We’ve found a pig!”
At the same time the blacksmith began to call, “I’ve lost my little black pig! I’ve lost my little black pig!”
At that everybody laughed but the pig. He only said, “Grunt, grunt.”
The blacksmith took him and took Peter, too. Then they all drove to Large Village.
Comfort
My dolls are sick and tired sometimes,
And I can’t stand their noise;
I put them quickly into bed,
And hide away their toys;
I shut the door and leave them
In the playroom all alone,
And scamper quickly down the stairs,
For fear I’ll hear them moan.
Last night I had the toothache hard;
My mother was so kind;
She held me closely in her arms,
And said to never mind.
She gently kissed the achy spot,
And soothed me with a song;
And, if you will believe my word,
The pain was quickly gone.
I like to have my mother care
When I am sick and blue;
I shouldn’t wonder if my dolls
Would like me gentle, too.
I think next time that one is sick,
I’ll sit and smooth her hair,
I’ll hold her hand and pat her cheek,
And let her know I care.
by Caroline M. Griswold.
Peter and Polly Series: Peter’s Haircut
Peter must have his hair cut soon,” said mother. “It is growing very long.”
“Yes, it is,” said Polly. “I shall have to braid it.”
“That will hardly do, Polly. Boys do not have their hair braided. They have it cut.”
“I cannot take him to the barber’s today,” said father. “I cannot take him tomorrow. The next day is Sunday. And Monday is a holiday.”
“Oh, dear!” said Peter. “Can’t you ever take me?”
“That is only four days, Peter,” said Polly.
“I know it, Polly. But my hair will grow very long. I do not wish it braided. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
“I will not braid it, Peter. I was only teasing you.”
“Father,” Peter said, “let me go to the barber’s alone. I know where it is.”
There was no barber where Peter and Polly lived. When Peter had his hair cut, he went to the nearest village. Peter and Polly always called this “Large Village.”
“How can you get to Large Village, Peter?”
“I can walk,” said Peter.
“It is four miles,” said Polly. “I guess you can’t walk so far as that. I think you would stop when you came to Farmer Brown’s.”
“That is just halfway,” said Peter. “I think I should not stop, either. I could not get my hair cut there.”
“You wait a little while, Peter,” said father. “The blacksmith is going to Large Village today. Perhaps he will take you with him. I will go over to his shop to see him. Then I will telephone to you.”
“Oh, goody, goody!” cried Peter. “I hope he will take me. I like to ride with him.”
In a few minutes the telephone rang.
“You may answer it, Peter,” said mother. “Perhaps it is father telephoning to you.”
“Hello,” said Peter. “Oh, will he take me? Yes, I will get ready now. Goodbye.”
“What did father say?” asked mother.
“He said that the blacksmith will take me. I must go to father’s store now.”
Peter ran to the store. Father was busy with some customers.
“Here is your money,” he said. “Keep it safe. Now go outside and watch for the blacksmith. He will soon be along.”
When the blacksmith came, Peter climbed up into his wagon. The seat was high. Peter liked that.
The blacksmith had two horses. Peter wished to drive them. So he took hold of the ends of the reins. He played that he was driving.
The blacksmith and Peter talked of many things. They talked about shoeing horses and mending wagons. They spoke of ponies. They spoke of boiling springs.
And then they talked about hair that was too long, and about going to the barber’s. At last they were in Large Village. They came to the barber’s shop.
“Here we are, Peter,” said the blacksmith. “Have you your money? I shall come back for you in a little while. You wait for me.”
Peter went in. He said to one man, “I must have my hair cut. Will you cut it? Here is the money to pay you.”
“Yes, I will,” said the barber. “Climb up into this chair. How will you have it cut — short or long?”
“It is long now,” said Peter. “So I will have it cut short.”
“Very well,” said the man. “Short it shall be.” And he began to snip, snip, snip with his shears.
At last the hair was cut. Peter jumped down from the chair. He put on his cap. It did not fit. It was too large. He felt of the back of his head.
His hair was stiff and short. He climbed up on the chair and looked in the mirror. “Oh, oh!” he cried. “My hair is short like father’s. I have always wished it to be like that.”
“You said to cut it short,” answered the barber. “Was that wrong? Won’t your father like it?”
“Maybe he will not care,” said Peter. “And anyway, I am glad. There is the blacksmith. I must go now. Goodbye.”
“See my hair,” said Peter to the blacksmith.
“I can’t see much, Peter. You must have left most of it behind you. Is that the way you were told to have it cut?”
“I wasn’t told,” said Peter. “Maybe my father will not care, and I like it.” Peter got out of the wagon at father’s store.
When father saw him, he said, “Well, I never! Now whose boy is this?”
“Oh father! Don’t you know me? It is Peter. It is your boy.”
“So it is,” said father. “But where is your hair? Your cap is too large.”
“My hair is at the barber’s. Do you care? I like it short.”
“No, Peter. I do not, much. But I think that mother may care. She likes it cut the other way. It is my fault, not yours. I forgot to tell you what to say to the barber. You wait for me here. I am going home to dinner in a minute.
“We will go together and tell mother about it. She will laugh. You do look funny. Your hair will grow before winter, so perhaps she will not mind.
Peter and Polly Series: Taking Orders
Taking Orders
I know a new game, Peter,” said Tim.
“Where did you get it, Tim?”
“I got it from some boys, Peter. Yesterday my mother and I went visiting. I played it then.”
“Let’s play it now,” said Peter. “What shall we do first?”
“We keep a store. Every day we take our horse and wagon. We call on our customers. They give us orders. We write them in a book.
“By and by we go back to our store. We put lots of things in our wagon. Then we drive around and give the things to our customers.”
“All right,” said Peter. “My father keeps a store. We will play that it is ours. But where is the book?”
“Here it is, Peter. My mother gave it to me yesterday. We played with it then.”
“Well, where is our wagon?”
“There is your father’s wagon, Peter. It is in front of the barn. I saw it. That is what made me think of the game.”
Tim and Peter climbed into the wagon.
“You drive,” said Tim. “I will take the orders. I know just how. See my pencil.”
“Get up,” said Peter to his play horse. And off they went.
“I wish that we truly had a horse,” he said. “Then we could take orders all over the village.”
“I should rather have my goat,” said Tim. “I like him better than a horse.”
“Sometimes he will not go when you wish him to,” said Peter. “That is not very nice.”
“I do not care,” said Tim. “I like old Billy just the same. Here is the first house, Peter. Stop for me to get out.”
“Whoa,” said Peter. And the play horse stopped at once. Tim ran to Peter’s back door. He knocked. Mrs. Howe, Peter’s mother, was in the kitchen. She came to the door.
“Good morning, Tim,” she said.
“Good morning,” said Tim. “I am a store man. I am taking orders. Will you please order something of me?”
“Yes, I will. Let me see. Please bring me one pound of butter and one half pound of tea. Can you do that?”
“Oh, yes,” said Tim. “I can bring you more. We have a very big store.”
“Then I will order a dozen eggs and a quart of milk. Do not let Peter bring me a quart of eggs and a dozen of milk. That is the way he played store once.”
Peter heard what his mother said and he laughed. He had learned better than that.
“Goodbye,” said Tim.
“Goodbye,” said Mrs. Howe. “Oh Tim! Perhaps other families live in this house. Go to the side door and to the front door and see.”
Tim climbed back into the wagon.
“Get up,” said Peter to his horse. And the play horse started.
“Did you get many orders? How far is it to the next house?”
“I got four orders. Here is the next house. Please stop now.”
“Whoa,” said Peter. And the horse stopped at once.
Tim knocked at the side door. A lady, with a blue dress on, opened it. Tim played that it was not Mrs. Howe.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Storekeeper,” said the lady. “Please bring me a box of salt, a pound of cheese, and a box of crackers.”
“Shall I bring you some bread?”
“I make my own bread, thank you. It is better than baker’s bread. But you may bring me a pound of coffee. Have you written all the things down? Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” said Tim.
He climbed back into the wagon.
“Get up,” said Peter to his horse. And the play horse started. “How far is it to the next house?”
“Not very far,” said Tim. “It is just to your front door. Lots of families live in your house this morning. Here it is.”
“Whoa,” said Peter. And the horse stopped at once.
Knock, knock, knock went Tim’s hand on the front door. A lady, with a large white apron on, opened it.
“Good morning, Mr. Orderman,” she said. “I have been watching for you. I need a dozen pears and a dozen peaches. I need a box of strawberries, too.”
“You cannot have the strawberries,” said Tim. “They were all gone long ago. They come in the early summer. It is almost autumn now. My mother did not get enough to can.”
“That is too bad,” said the lady. “Then you cannot eat strawberries this winter, can you? Please bring me the pears and the peaches.
“You must get very hungry taking so many orders. Here is a bag of cookies for you and for the man who drives. You may eat them under the trees.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Tim. “I like this place best of all. We will bring your things some other time. Goodbye.”
The driver got down from his seat. He unharnessed the horse. Then the driver and the order man sat on the grass to eat their dinner. The horse had his dinner, too.
They had driven so far that they were tired and hungry.
Jack Frost’s Celebration
How the wind blows tonight!” said father after supper. “It whistles around the corners. It nearly whistled off my hat, when I came home.”
“I should think that you would wear a cap,” said mother.
“Fur caps will be needed soon,” father said. “The cold weather is here to stay. No more warm weather until next spring. Let’s celebrate, this evening.”
“I know what celebrate means,” said Polly. “It’s what we do on the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Birthdays, too,” said Peter. “I had a birthday party.”
“That is so,” Polly said. “But what shall we celebrate tonight?”
“Let us celebrate winter,” father said. “Let us give Jack Frost a party. Come now and begin.
“First we will light the fire in the fireplace. Light your end, Polly. Light your end, Peter. We will see which end burns brighter.
“Mother will fix the chairs while I am down in the cellar. You two look out for sparks. That kindling wood is snapping.”
In a few minutes, father was back. Can you guess what he brought?
A pan full of apples. They came from a barrel in the cellar. They had grown out in the orchard.
Besides, he had a bag with ears of corn in it. And he had another pan, and a corn popper.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Peter and Polly. “How could you carry so many things?”
Father put down the pan of apples. “We will each roast one,” he said. “Pick yours out, children. Now we will put our apples on the bricks near the fire.
“Peter, you may watch them. After a while, you must turn them around. Do you know why?”
“What shall I do, father?” asked Polly.
“You may shell some corn into the popper. We cannot pop it jet. We must wait for the flames to die down a little.”
“Next week is Thanksgiving,” said mother. “Won’t it be fun to go down to grandmother’s for dinner? I wish that we might have a snowstorm before then.”
“I am thankful right now,” said Polly. “I am thankful for you and father and Peter and grandmother and this fire. I shall be thankful for popped corn, when I get some.”
“We will try it now,” said father. And he began to shake the popper over the coals.
Pop, pop, pop, pop went the corn. The white kernels hopped up and down. They seemed to be trying to get out.
“It is nearly done,” said Polly. “See! The popper is full.”
Just at that minute the corn caught fire.
“Oh, oh!” cried Polly. “It will all burn up! It will all burn up!”
It did not. Father quickly blew out the flames. Some of the kernels were black. He poured the others into the warm pan. Mother put in salt and melted butter.
Polly shelled more corn, and father popped it. Soon the pan was full. Did anything ever taste so good as that hot, buttered popped corn?
At last father said, “This celebration is almost over. I believe that it is long after bedtime.”
Polly said, “I am sure, now, that I am glad winter has come. I was not sure before. I have had a good time at our winter party.”
“So have I,” said Peter. “I am going to kiss everybody goodnight. I have had such a good time that I have lots of kisses in my face.”
“Pass them around then, my son,” said father. “Then run upstairs to bed. Jack Frost’s party is finished.”
The First Snowflakes
Mother, may I go to school to meet Polly?” asked Peter. “Tim has gone away. I have played with Wag-wag all the afternoon.”
“Why, yes,” said mother.
“Then may Polly and I take a walk? We will not go far.”
“Yes,” said mother again. “Be home before dark, please. It grows dark very early now. Next month will come the shortest days of the whole year.”
Peter went over to the schoolhouse. The children were just coming out.
One of the big boys said to him, “Hello, Peter. Did you think that you would come to school again? Have you grown big enough now? “
Peter only said, “I am waiting for Polly and there she is.”
“Polly, Polly,” he called, “come with me. Mother said that we might take a walk. I know where to go.”
“Where?” asked Polly.
“To the place where the brook runs under the road. Let us go under the road today. Will you?”
“All right, I will,” said Polly. “I always meant to. But I forgot about it. It will be fun. Isn’t it cold?”
“Yes,” said Peter. “My fingers are cold. But I do not care. Only I wish that I had on my new mittens.”
“Look at this,” said Polly. “Come out in the road. See how it is frozen into ruts. I am going to walk on the ridges.”
“That isn’t very much to look at,” said Peter. “It has been that way for a few days.”
“Yes, it has,” said Polly. “But look in the ruts. There is ice. It is thin. Let us step on it. Hear it crack.”
“There is a puddle,” said Peter. “It has ice on it, too. See me step on that.”
“Keep off the middle,” said Polly. “You do not know how deep that puddle is. If the ice lets you down, you may get your feet wet.”
“All right,” said Peter. “There is the blacksmith’s shop, Polly. Do you think that the blacksmith is inside?”
“Perhaps he is, Peter. See! He has closed his big door. That is because it is cold weather.
“He has it closed in winter. I like it to be summer better. Then I can see into the shop.”
“Here is the brook, Polly. Let us climb down the bank and look under the road.”
“There is ice on the edges of the brook, Peter. I think that the boiling spring is colder than ever now. Let’s break off pieces of this ice.”
“Can we walk through under the road?” asked Peter. “I told Tim about it. He said that we could not.”
“I think that we can,” said Polly. “Come on. We will try. Keep close to the wall. Do not step into the water.”
“It is quite dark,” said Peter. “I am glad that it is not far.”
“You must bend down now, Peter. I have to bend down. Do not push me. I shall slip in, if you do.”
“Oh, there is the end,” said Peter. “I can see the field. I do not like this place. It is hard walking on the stones. It is cold here, too.”
“I am out,” shouted Polly. “Come on, Peter. Oh Peter, Peter, Peter!”
“What, what?” called Peter. “Have you fallen in?”
“No, no!” shouted Polly. “But look at this! Don’t you know what it is?”
“A snowflake, a snowflake!” cried Peter. “And here is one on my sleeve, too.”
“There are more in the air, Peter. See them! See them! Do you suppose that it will be winter right away?”
“Of course it will, Polly. It is winter when the snow comes. Let us run home and get our sleds. You may take my new one part of the time.”
The children were at home before it was dark.
At supper time, when father came, Polly said, “Will you please get our sleds out for us tomorrow, father? How much has it snowed now?”
“Not much,” said father. “You see, that was just a little flurry of snow. We shall have many such before there is a good storm. You must wait a little longer for your sliding.”
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