GOSLING GOOSE’S QUESTION.
“Why need I turn in my toes?” cried out Gosling Goose one day. “Little boys don’t, and I think it’s why they can run faster than we!”
Mrs. Goose smiled; but Mr. Goose said, “Goslings should be seen and not heard!”
BABYLAND
“KEECOO CARL.”
“Mama, give me a keecoo,” said Carl.
“My child, there isn’t a cookie in the house,” said Mama.
“Do you wis’ you had some?” asked Carl, planting his chubby elbows in Mama’s lap.
“Indeed I do,” said Mama. “I certainly do wish that when Bridget went, she had left something in the house to eat!”
Five minutes later, Carl, with his mama’s large travelling bag on his arm, closed the back gate behind him, and trudged down the street.
A “lovely lady” that Carl knew lived in the first house round the corner, and he walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
The lady herself came to the door.
“Please give Carl keecoo. Bwidget’s gone, and us haven’t one fing in the house to eat,” and Carl extended the open bag to his astonished friend.
“Bless your heart!” she said, drawing her little friend in, and when he left he had ten cookies in his bag. She certainly was a “lovely lady” but Carl wished she hadn’t smiled so much with her eyes.
A little further on, another lady lived who often called to see mama, and Carl gave her door-bell a pull. This time a maid came, and Carl was shown into the parlor.
When Mrs. Lee came in and heard Carl’s errand she, too, “smiled,” and into his bag went eight beautiful doughnuts.
Three or four more friends were visited, and at every place Carl’s bag grew heavier.
With a happy heart he hurried home, and bursting into the sitting-room he excitedly empties the contents of his bag into mama’s lap.
There were cookies, yellow and brown, of all shapes and sizes, and doughnuts both round and square.
“Carl! Where in the world”—began mama.
“Yesh, isn’t you glad?” interposed Carl. “They was all gibbed to me for you, and every buddy sent their love!”
This is how “Keecoo Carl” came by his name.
Carrie A. Griffin.
A rattle is enough for me,
For I can make as much noise,
With my own mouth and fists and heels,
As babies with lots of toys!
P. S. C.