GORDON’S TOY CASTLE ON THE HILL
BY EVERETT WILSON
Last Christmas little Gordon Bruce had a fine, large Christmas tree and lots of toys, just as a great many other nice boys and girls had. The tree was up in his playroom, a great, big, sunny room that used to be called the “nursery” when he was a baby.
A few days after Christmas, Gordon’s mother said: “Now, Gordon, I think we will have to take down your Christmas tree, for it is getting all dried up, and the little pine needles are dropping all over the floor, and the maid has to sweep them up every day.”
Gordon was sorry to have the tree taken down, for it looked so bright and Christmas-y, and he knew it would be a whole year before he would have another Christmas tree, so he asked his mother if she wouldn’t wait just one day more. I think that is the way almost all the girls and boys feel. And his mother said she would wait until to-morrow.
It was a rainy day, and as none of his little friends were with him, he began to play with all his toys one after the other; there were many of them, and some of the little ones were still hanging on the tree.
Gordon’s father came from Scotland, and he had read to Gordon many stories of the old days in Scotland, when the great generals and the noble lords lived in strong castles set high up on the mountains, so that the soldiers could not get near them. Now among Gordon’s Christmas presents was a tiny castle just like the ones he had seen in the books his father read the stories from; and with this castle came a lot of soldiers.