What a little picture! The merriment oozes out of the corners of the pent-up mouth, dances in the bright blue eyes, shimmers in the shaking golden curls, and quivers in the chubby shoulders.
Charlie Leonard is repeating
“Old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard,”
the only feather from his worn-out Mother Goose which “sticks” in his memory, and poor Artie, yielding to the temptations of the idle hour, is just about to tickle the sleeper’s nostrils with a grassy “horsetail,” when the Family Owl, who sees by day as well as by night, spies out his sly intent in time to check the roguish act.
Perhaps it was the good-natured little “scuffle” which ensued, or perhaps the sportive zephyrs were too loudly coaxing the leafy covers, or perhaps the greedy flies might have followed Artie’s bad example, and having no good elder sister-fly to call them off, might have tickled the little quivering nostrils, and made a play-ground of the fair, dewy brow; whichever or whatever the cause, we cannot tell. Elf-land secrets are not written on printed page, and we have no time to seek them from tiny flower petals, murmuring brooklets, or transparent dewdrops.
Slowly, but surely, Bear at last came out of Dreamland, to the children’s great delight, and, oh, how they enjoyed his bewilderment, the questioning look, the pleasure his face showed as, little by little, the true state of things dawned upon his waking mind, as the little Fairies took the forms of loving brothers, sisters, and friend!
How he laughed out as he caught sight of Rosie’s pink skirt shining among the green branches of the old lilac bush! The little human fairies joined hands and danced a wild, elfin dance around the tardy guest, then seated themselves to enjoy with him the fairy feast.