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Posts tagged ‘Peter and Polly Series’

Peter and Polly: A Bunch of Balloons

A Bunch of Balloons

See all the people!” cried Polly. “I did not know that there were so many except at a circus.”

“Father, where did you put Mary?” asked Peter.

“Over there by the fence. Here is a ticket for her. No one can take her without this ticket. She will wait for us.”

“Let us go into that place,” said Polly. “See all the people going in there.”

“That is a place in which to eat,” father said. “We do not wish to eat yet. Besides, we brought our food with us.”

“Let us go to see the cattle,” said mother.

Father took them to a large building. It was full of sheep. There were many different kinds.

“Farmer Brown has some of his sheep here,” said father.

“Are his two pet lambs here?” asked Peter. “I mean the ones that came to our party on his piazza last summer. I hope that they will get a blue ribbon.”

After they had seen the sheep, they went into the building where the cows were kept.

“Some of Tim’s Jersey cows are here,” said father. “Perhaps we can find them.”

There were hundreds of cows. The children grew tired of looking at so many. At last they found Tim’s Jersey cows standing side by side.

“Let us look at the horses now,” said father. “Perhaps we can find the blacksmith’s.”

“Perhaps you can find a pony for us,” said Peter. “I wish that you would try.”

“Now,” said father, “you have seen enough of the horses. There are the pigs left to see. Does anybody wish to look at the pigs?”

“Suppose you go alone,” said mother. “The children and I will stay outside this building and wait for you. We are a little tired.”

“Look for the little black pig! “Polly shouted.

Mother and Polly and Peter found a bench on which to sit.

Then mother said, “Now let us look for interesting things. You first, Polly. What do you see that is interesting?”

“All the automobiles standing over there. And all the wagons. And all the people.”

“Yes,” said mother. “There are hundreds of automobiles and wagons. Peter, what do you see?”

“All the people going into that place to eat. And all the people coming out.”

“Oh, oh!” cried Polly. “Look, look! See the men leading the ponies, Peter!”

“Oh Polly!” cried Peter. “See the men leading the dogs! “

“Those dogs are going to race,” said mother.

“Where, where? Let us go,” said Polly.

“We will see them this afternoon, Polly,” said mother.” They do not race until then.”

“Oh, I wish that we had brought Wag-wag,” said Polly.” I am sure that he could beat.”

“Perhaps he could not,” said mother. “Those dogs are trained to race. Wag-wag is not.”

“Oh mother, mother!” cried Peter.

“There is a boy with some balloons! See them! See them! Red ones and white ones and blue ones. May we have some?”

“Yes, you may. Here is a dime for you, Peter. Here is a dime for you, Polly. Run and buy.”

“Stop, stop” called Peter to the boy. “I will buy a red balloon.”

“I will buy a blue one,” said Polly. “Here is the money.”

The boy untied a blue and a red balloon. He gave them to Polly and to Peter.

A crowd of people had gathered around him. Somebody pushed against him. He dropped Polly’s money.

He stooped to pick it up. His bunch of balloons slipped from his hand. He jumped up and caught at them. But he only pushed them farther away.

Other people tried to get them. But the crowd was thick. People bumped against one another. Nobody caught the balloons. Up into the air they sailed.

The boy looked ready to cry. But he did not. He said, “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall be punished for losing my balloons. I wish I could get them.”

“It is too bad,” said one man. “Perhaps we can help you. Here! Give me your cap.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “let us put into this boy’s cap the money for his balloons. Then he will not be punished for losing them.

It is too nice a day for anybody to be punished. Now walk right up and help.” And he dropped in a large piece of silver money.

Mrs. Howe gave Peter and Polly each five cents. They put the money into the cap. The man who passed the cap smiled at Polly.

Many, many people put money into the cap. The boy had enough to pay for his balloons.

Then the crowd went away. Polly and Peter watched the bunch of balloons up in the air.

At last Polly said to her mother, “That was a homely man who held the cap. But he looked handsome to me. I think that he is kind.

“You see I remember, ‘Handsome is that handsome does.'”

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Peter and Polly: Starting for the Fair

Starting for the Fair

Polly ran into the house from school one day. She banged all the doors.

“Next week is fair week! Next week is fair week!” she shouted.

Peter was in the house. He heard Polly. “Next week is fair week! Next week is fair week!” he shouted, too.

“How do you know, Peter?” asked Polly.

“Because you said so,” answered Peter. “Besides, the blacksmith said so. His horses are going to the fair to get blue ribbons. Do horses like to go to the fair? If we go, shall we get blue ribbons?”

Father laughed. “You certainly are a prize,” he said. “You ought to get a blue ribbon.”

“Then will you take us so that we can?” asked Peter.

And Polly said, “Oh, will you take us? School closes for two days so that all the children can go.”

“Yes,” said father. “I mean to take you. Mother is going, too. If it does not rain, we shall have a good time.”

“Goody, goody!” cried both children.

“Shall we drive Mary?” asked Polly. “Tim is going on the train.”

“I think so,” said father. “But we may go on the train. That will be just as mother says. You must ask her.”

“Are you going on the train, mother?” asked Peter. “I wish to go on the train.”

“If we do, you will have to help carry the luncheon,” said mother.

“Oh, shall we take things to eat?” shouted Peter. “Goody, goody! Then let us go in our carriage.”

“I think that will be easier,” said mother.

The day of the fair was warm and bright. Mother and father were up early. So were Peter and Polly.

Mother got the breakfast, and washed the dishes, and put up the luncheon. Father fed the horse, and milked the cow, and fed the hens.

Polly made the beds. She was in a great hurry to get them done.

She smoothed out all the wrinkles in mother’s bed. She smoothed out all the wrinkles in father’s bed. She smoothed out all the wrinkles in Peter’s bed.

When she came to her own bed she said, “I shall not smooth out all my wrinkles. It takes too long. I wish to be downstairs and know what is going on.”

You see that mother and father and Polly were all busy. And Peter was busy, too. He was busy getting into everybody’s way.

He stood just where mother wished to walk. Then he went upstairs and stood just where Polly wished to walk. But he did not mean to do so.

At last mother said, “Peter, why don’t you run out and sit in the carriage? In a few minutes, father will harness Mary. I am almost ready now.”

“I will,” said Peter. He got his hat and his coat. Father had drawn the two-seated carriage out of the barn. Peter climbed into it.

He waited a long, long time. He thought that he had waited all the morning. But it was really only half an hour.

At last Polly came. Then father brought out the luncheon basket. He harnessed Mary. Mother came out of the side door. She was ready, too.

Mother and Polly sat on the back seat. Father and Peter sat in front.

Down the hill they went. Past the store and through the woods, past Farmer Brown’s and on, on, on to Large Village the road ran.

“I never was so happy before in all my life,” said Polly. “Just think! We are going to the fair, and we are going to have a picnic, too. I must jump up and down.”

“Jump then,” said mother. “But remember the blacksmith’s pig. Do not jump out.”

Through Large Village they went. Then the road became crowded. There were many carriages. There were more automobiles.

They had to drive very slowly. But at last they came in sight of the Fair Grounds.

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Peter and Polly: The Circus

The Circus

“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.

“We will lay them down in a circle. You can each bring two sticks at a time. I will bring three.”

It took some minutes to make the circus ring large enough. But, at last, it was done. The sticks of wood were laid end to end in a circle.

“Now let us have the circus,” said Peter.

“First, Tim must go home and get Billy, his goat,” said Polly. “Billy is to be one of the performers. Bring Collie, too, Tim.”

Collie is Tim’s dog. He is a wise and beautiful sheep dog.

Tim and Peter went up the bill. They found Hilly out by the barn.

“Come along, Billy,” said Peter. “We need you in the circus.”

Billy would not stir. He did not know what fun a circus is.

“I know how to get him,” said Tim. “There is Collie. He will get Billy for us. He knows how to drive cows. I think that he can drive old Billy.”

Tim called to Collie. At last Collie understood what he was to do. He ran behind Billy and nipped at his heels. This made Billy turn around. He put down his head. He chased Collie. He tried to butt him.

Peter and Tim started out of the yard. Collie followed them. Billy followed Collie. At last they were at Peter’s. Polly was waiting in the ring with Wag-wag.

When Billy saw Wag-wag, he started after him. Wag-wag ran around in a circle. Billy chased him.

“Oh, look, look!” shouted Peter. “That is the first part of our circus. It is a race between a goat and a dog.”

“That is all Billy needs to do,” said Tim. “He must not work too hard. He may go home now. What will come next?”

“I have two things to come next,” said Polly. “I fixed them while you were up after Billy. Here is the first. We will draw it around the ring.”

Polly drew Peter’s cart out from one of the tents. On the cart, there was a box. It had a cover. It had slats across both sides. Some kind of fruit had come in it.

There was no fruit in it now. Instead, there was a fierce, wild panther. It was the fiercest kind of panther, for it was black.

“Mew, mew, mew,” cried that panther. And she walked around and around the cage trying to get out.

Polly said, “Be quiet, panther. You are a very wild animal. I must draw your cage around the circus ring. Everybody wishes to see you. In a little while I shall give you a whole sheep to eat.”

“Mew, mew, mew,” still cried the panther. Perhaps that meant, “I am not a panther. I am Blacky.”

“I like animals,” said Tim. “I wish that we had more.”

“I have two more,” said Polly. “I will show one to you in Peter’s tent. Come now.”

She took the wild panther out of the cage. She carried her to the tent.

She said, “Ladies and gentlemen, here is the most wonderful cat in the world. She can catch fish. None of you have cats that can do such a smart thing.”

“Maybe that is so,” said Tim. “But we can catch fish ourselves. What comes next?”

“You do,” said Polly. “You must jump down from the very top of the cage. Go and get one of the back-kitchen chairs. We shall put the cage on top of it. You can jump from that.”

Tim jumped several times. Then Peter jumped several times. Then they both turned somersaults.

At last they thought they would jump from the top of the cage together. They climbed up on the cage. But it was not strong enough to hold them.

The top smashed in. Off the chair they both tumbled, while Polly laughed and laughed.

She said, “I forgot to have any clowns. You are very good ones. Come into the other tent now. That is a side show. I have something wonderful there.”

When they came to the other tent she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, here is the most wonderful thing in the world. It is a dwarf. This dwarf will never grow any larger. She will always stay just the size that she is now.”

“Oh,” said Tim, “that is Blacky’s little kitten — the one that never grew up. Is she a dwarf?”

“Yes,” said Polly. “Just think! Isn’t it wonderful? How should you like to stay always just as little as you are now? “

“I should not like it,” said Tim. “Why don’t you feed her? I have to eat lots of things to make me grow.”

“Feeding her doesn’t make her grow,” said Polly. “We have tried everything. She is just a dwarf. She will always stay a dwarf. Come out now. I have one more thing to show you. It is a dancing bear.”

Polly went to the circus ring. She called to Collie. She took his forepaws in her hands. She made him stand up straight.

Then she said, “Come, dancing bear, come and dance.” And she pulled Collie after her around the ring.

Peter and Tim clapped their hands.

Tim said, “I used to call Collie, Jersey cow. Perhaps I shall call him the dancing bear, now.”

“That is all the circus today,” said Polly. “But we need not put the ring back tonight. I asked father.

“Tomorrow we can have the same circus and ask the other children to come. We will charge ten pins for each child.”

“All right,” said Tim and Peter. “That will be fun. We will be better clowns tomorrow.”

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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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Tim’s Football

Peter,” called Tim, “come out here.”

Tim was in Peter’s front yard. He was kicking something about.

“What are you doing?” asked Peter.

“I am playing football. Don’t you know that all the big boys play football in the autumn? My mother made me this football. It is a good one. See!”

Tim picked up his ball. He handed it to Peter. It was just a bag made of cloth. It was stuffed with rags.

“Yes, it is a good one,” said Peter. “One day I made a football out of burdock burrs. But it came to pieces, when I kicked it. Yours will not do that.”

“No,” said Tim, “it will not. My mother said that I may kick it to pieces, if I can. Then my father will bring me a real one from Large Village.”

“Let me take it a minute, Tim. Let me show it to my mother. She will make one for me.”

Mrs. Howe made Peter a football. It was just like Tim’s. It did not take her very long to do it. She made a strong bag on the sewing machine. She stuffed it with rags. Then she sewed up the end.

“There,” she said, “now you both have footballs. I think that they are very good ones. You may go to Tim’s and play with them. Tim has some leaves up at his house for you to jump in.”

Tim and Peter kicked their footballs all the way up the hill. Sometimes the balls did not go straight. Sometimes, when they tried, the boys did not kick them at all.

Once Peter kicked very hard. He did not touch his ball. He kicked so hard that he fell down.

“See all your leaves, Tim,” said Peter. “Your yard is fall of them. Let’s rake them up. Maybe we can have a bonfire.”

“We can rake them,” said Tim. “But we cannot burn them. I heard my father say that he should keep our leaves.”

“What for?” asked Peter.

“He is going to put them in a big pile,” said Tim. “He is going to cover them over.

“After he has left them in a pile for a long, long time, they will rot. Then they will be good for the garden.”

“I should rather have a bonfire,” said Peter.

“So should I,” said Tim. “But my father would not. He gets things to sell from his garden. So he has to make them grow fast.”

“My father does not,” said Peter. “He keeps a store. He has the post office, too. That is in his store. I have seen him put the letters into boxes.”

“So have I,” said Tim. “And I have had a letter, too. Let’s rake up a pile of leaves now. We can jump in them.”

“Where is my football?” asked Peter.

“I do not know, Peter. It must be somewhere in the leaves. We can find it when we rake them up. Oh, see mine!”

“There is a hole in it,” said Peter. “The insides are sticking out. Now you can have a real one, Tim. Your mother said so. Let us take it in to show her.”

When the boys came out of the house, Tim said, “Polly and I buried you in the sand the other day. Now you bury me in the leaves.”

He lay down and Peter piled leaves all over him. He even covered up his face. The leaves were very light. Tim liked the smell of them.

Soon he jumped up. He did not need anyone to dig him out. Then he covered Peter all over.

“Do not go to sleep,” he said. “If you do, we shall never get the leaves raked up. Now you have been buried long enough. Come out!”

Next, they tried to bury Collie and Wag-wag. But the dogs would not lie still. They thought that it was some kind of game. They wished to play, too.

At last the boys found Peter’s football.

“I must take this home, before I lose it again,” said Peter. “Goodbye, Tim. I have had a good time. Come and play with me this afternoon.”

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Peter and Polly Series: The Four Horseshoes

The Four Horseshoes

The blacksmith and Polly and Peter went into the shop. It was fun inside. The children had often seen the blacksmith fit shoes on horses’ feet.

They liked to watch him hammer the white-hot iron. They liked to see the sparks that the hammer made. They liked to watch his fire.

“Why, there is Mary, our horse,” said Polly. “I did not know that she was over here.”

“I have been shoeing her. She is all ready to go to the store. I shall lead her. You may both ride on her back.”

“Oh, goody, goody!” cried Polly. “Sometimes father lets us do that.”

“Here are two presents for you, Polly. And here are two presents for you, Peter. Do you know what they are?”

“They look like horseshoes,” said Polly. “Thank you very much. But what odd little horseshoes! Did you make them for Mary? I guess that they did not fit her.”

“I did not make them for Mary. Can you guess what they are for?”

“They are just big enough for Tim’s goat,” said Peter.

“They are not for Billy,” said the blacksmith.” Guess again.”

“Are they for a little calf?”

“No,” said the blacksmith. “And I think that you had better look at Billy’s feet. Then I think that you had better look at a calf’s feet. You will see that round shoes would not fit them.”

“Then what are these for?” asked Polly. “I cannot guess.”

“I made them for a pony. If you were my children, maybe I should buy you a pony for your very own.”

“Oh, would you?” asked Peter. “I should like that. But I cannot be your boy, because I am my father’s.”

“Show him what I gave you. Tell him that you would like a pony to fit those four shoes. Well, Polly, what is the matter?”

“Nothing much,” said Polly. “I just dropped my horseshoes into my apron pocket. I forgot that my egg was there. It is all broken, now.”

“I should say it is, Polly. Come over here and clean up a little. Wipe out that pocket. Now are you ready? Then up you go on Mary. Peter first, Polly behind.”

“It is quite slippery up here,” said Peter. “Maybe I shall slide off.”

“That will not matter, unless you have eggs in your pocket, too. Have you, Peter?”

“No,” said Peter, “just horseshoes.”

“Then forward march,” said the blacksmith. And off they started.

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Peter and Polly Series: At the Blacksmith’s Shop

Down the hill Peter and Polly trotted. They followed the little brook. By and by it ran into a larger one.

“This large brook runs into the river,” said Polly. “We cannot follow it much farther. We cannot follow it all the way to the river.”

“Why?” asked Peter.

“Because it goes under the road, Peter. Don’t you remember? Here is the place.”

“Oh, yes,” said Peter. “I remember. Well, let’s look under the road.”

“All right, Peter. But there is not much to see. It is dark.”

“I can see through to the other side,” said Peter.

“So can I, now,” said Polly. “And, Oh Peter! It is quite a big place. I am sure that we can walk through. Let’s go now.”

“All right,” said Peter. “I should like to walk under the road.”

“Dear me! I forgot this old egg,” said Polly. “I should be sure to break it. We must wait until some other day. Let us go to the blacksmith’s now.”

Soon they were at the shop.

“Well, Polly,” said the blacksmith, “did the water boil?”

“Here is my egg,” said Polly. “It did not cook. Maybe that is a boiling spring. But it is cold water.”

“It is really a bubbling spring,” said the blacksmith. “Much water comes out of the ground. It comes very fast.

“That makes the sand at the bottom of the spring move. It makes the top of the spring go up and down. The water looks as if it were boiling. But it is not.”

“It is a nice spring,” said Peter. “I took a drink of the water. It was very cold.”

“Yes,” said the blacksmith. “That water must come from deep down in the ground. It is the coldest spring I know.”

“I had a good time, anyway,” said Polly. “We saw goldenrod and Black-eyed Susans.”

“That is a sign that autumn is almost here,” said the blacksmith. “I can see another sign this very minute.”

“Where, where?” cried both children.

“Look on the telephone wires. The sign is there.”

“Oh, oh, see the swallows!” cried Polly. “I never before saw so many together. The wires are full.”

“Perhaps you saw the very same thing last fall,” the blacksmith said. “It happens every year. They are thinking about flying away. They go south for the winter, you know.”

“But it isn’t time,” said Polly. “It isn’t really autumn yet. It is only next to it. Oh, I do not wish them to go. I wish they would stay here.”

“They will not go yet. But they cannot stay here all winter. They could not get food,” said the blacksmith.

“Oh, oh!” called Peter. “They are going now! They are going now! They have just started! See them!”

The blacksmith laughed. “They are only flying about for fun, Peter. Come and see what I have in my shop.”

Peter and Polly Series

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