“No, sir,” said Rollo.
“If you should say any thing which is not strictly true, and want to make me think it is true, that would be very wrong. That would be telling a lie. So it would be very wrong for me to tell you any thing which is not true, and try to make you think it is true. But it is not wrong for me to make up a little story to amuse you, if I do not try to deceive you by it.”
“Would that be a fictitious story?”
“Yes.”
“Well, father, I should like to have you tell me a fictitious story.”
“Well, I will tell you one. The name of it is, The Fly’s Morning Walk.” So Rollo’s father took his little boy up in his lap, and told him the following fictitious story.
[*] They called it the garden-yard, because it led out to the garden. You can see Jonas in the picture, wheeling out a load of weeds, along the path from the garden to the barn-yard.
THE FLY’S MORNING WALK.
Once there was a little fly with broad, thin wings and round body and two great eyes. When he waked up in the morning, he found he was standing on the wall, and he thought he would go and find something for breakfast.