“No, sir, if you please,” said Frank. He was very much afraid if his father began a story about bad boys, that it might come a great deal too near home. Histories of bad girls and good girls were also objected to, and Mr. Goodman cut the dispute short by commencing:
“Once upon a time—”
“That’s the way you always begin,” said Mary.
“Well, you wouldn’t have him say ‘twice upon a time,’ would you?” asked Frank, who tried to be thought smart, like a great many other boys that we see. Now if these little folks could only hear with other people’s ears, how very little wit there is in some of these attempts to be satirical, we think they would not be so fond of “taking up” their brothers and sisters; and trying to be amusing at the expense of their neighbours. Mr. Goodman thought all this, but did not say it. He smiled, and continued his story:
“Once upon a time there was a little mischievous—”
“Boy,” whispered Mary.
“Squirrel,” said her father, and Frank laughed with a look of triumph at Mary, to think he had escaped so nicely.
“Well, this young squirrel felt very large of his age, and was not much disposed to listen to what his father and mother said to him.”
“Ho! ho!” shouted Frank—“squirrels a-talking!”
“The squirrel’s name was Robert, and his playmates called him Bob, for shortness. He was sent to a very excellent school, and his father and mother tried every means to teach him to climb up in the world; but I am sorry to say that Master Bob was sometimes naughty and disobedient. He paid little attention to the entreaties of his mother, and the good advice of his father, but was continually running away, and getting into all manner of troubles and difficulties. His father and mother lived in a very large and respectable old oak, where he might have been as happy as the day is long. Close to this oak was a large lake—”