They were halfway home, sweeping along through the air, when Fleetfoot suddenly cried out.
‘My shoes!’ cried Fleetfoot. ‘My shoes! I have left them on Buttons’ feet. What will Buttons think in the morning when he sees my Brownie shoes?’
The West Wind didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. As for the Moon, he was still smiling. He made Fleetfoot smile too.
‘That is the best thing to do,’ said Fleetfoot. ‘Laugh about it. Probably that is what Buttons will do to-morrow morning when he sees my funny shoes.’
And Fleetfoot was right. That is just what Buttons did.
THE BOOK OF GOOD CHILDREN
THE BOOK OF GOOD CHILDREN
There was once a little boy whom every one called the Little Brown Boy. This was because his name was Brown and because his hair and his eyes were dark brown, too.
Of course he had another name, indeed, he had two—William John. But no one except his mother and father, and his aunts and uncles, and the minister, when he came to tea, ever called him anything but the Little Brown Boy.
One night the Little Brown Boy lay in bed as wide awake as ever he could be. He had been so sleepy when his mother put him to bed that he couldn’t stand up straight to take off his clothes. But once tucked in bed and his mother gone downstairs, the Little Brown Boy’s eyes flew open and he felt as lively as if it were morning instead of his usual bed-time, seven o’clock.