"Please don't set fire to the house," cried his mother, laughing, "for the fun of saving our lives. I prefer to keep it just as it is, and walking quietly out at the door." As she spoke, the sun suddenly burst forth from the clouds, and his bright rays darting into the room, the children sprang joyfully up, and, with their mother's consent, were soon out of the house with jumping-rope and hoop, to join their little companions in a neighboring park.
George and Helen were two charming, ingenuous children. George was full of frolic, mischief, and fun, with generous impulses and excellent intentions, which only required peculiar and careful training and encouragement to develop him into a steady, high-principled man. Locking him up with nothing to do, as he truly said, did him more harm than good; he required active punishment, and his mother wisely intended to take the hint for his future benefit. Her little Helen, though just as full of play and fun, was more easily managed. A present of a book so won upon her love and gratitude, that her mother had only to hold out the prospect of a new one, and a loving kiss (Helen prized the kiss even more than the book) as a reward for good behavior, to make her quite a pattern of a dear, amiable little girl.
The next morning the kind mother called upon her friend Aunt Fanny, bringing George and Helen with her, as it was Saturday. First she told all the conversation of the afternoon before, which amused Aunt Fanny very much, and then she continued, "You told me the other day that your daughter was very busy writing six books for Mr. Leavitt the publisher. I know you love my children."
"Yes, indeed!" cried Aunt Fanny. "I love children from my heart, straight out to the ends of my fingers; and when a pen is in my hands, the love runs into it, and then out again, as fast as it can scratch all over ever so many sheets of paper. My thumb aches so sometimes with writing, that I often wish I had half a dozen extra ones, so I could take the tired one off and screw another on, and even then I am afraid I could never exhaust my love for my darlings;" and she looked at the children and held out her hand with such an affectionate smile, that Helen came timidly up and gave her a little winning kiss immediately, while George, blushing all over his face, showed two great dimples in his cheeks, but had not the courage to leave his chair.
You may be sure that Aunt Fanny, after Helen's kiss, was quite ready to grant any favor the mother might ask for her children. She was perfectly willing to catch a comet for them to play with, or jump down a volcano to find out who lived in the bottom of it, if anybody would only show her how. Helen's mother knew this, but she hesitated a little before she made this strange request:
"My dear friend, my two children have made me the promises I have told you of, in regard to keeping my little rules and resolutions, and now I think it will be the most wonderful and delightful reward possible, if they were to be permitted to see and read your daughter's stories in manuscript."
"Manuscript! what does that mean, mamma?"
"In her own handwriting, dear."
"Oh yes! yes! how very strange and delightful! And then to see the very same stories printed! that would be so astonishing! We should like that better than anything, Aunt Fanny!"
"Very well," continued their mamma; "now I have come to beg you to lend me the stories as fast as they are written. I will take the greatest care of them, and return them to your daughter quickly and punctually. I have a plan in my head which will make my children very happy, if you consent."