THE YOUNG FOLK.

Evening Post, Volume LXXV, Issue 27, 1 February 1908, Page 10

THE YOUNG FOLK.

It was very early in the morning, but the bird outside the window sang cheerfully. Dora, as though in answer, opened her eyes, blinked several times, remembered something, and sat up suddenly in bed,. Leanirig 'over Murjorie, who slept with her, she shook her and whispered, "Wako up, Margy', wake up !" "Urn — m," said Marjorie, snuggling closer in the clothes. "Oli, Margy, come along !" and Dora shook Marjorie again. "Ah— l} ! oh-h !" sighed Marjorio, turning over .comfortably. The bedclothes were, suddenly whisked away, and Marjorie wakened iii a hurry. "l)ora ! You— you— " she stuttered. ' "Now, Margy," said Dora, dressing as fast os possible by fastening everything in front that she could and leaving the rest unfastened, "don't you remembe? that we are going to look for tho fairies where the fairy wands grow ? The sun is coming now, and in a single minute we shall be too late." "Oh, yee !" cried Marjorio eagerly. "Help me dress, Dora." So Dora did the best she could, and presently they were ready. Taking their shoes in their hands, they tiptoed 'to the top of the stairs in sileiice. But how to get down ? The best of stairs will craak, particularly if you vary much want them not to. Dora looked' at Marjovte, and whispered :—: — "Can you slide down all right, Margy?" Marjorie nodded, and in the twinkling of ah eye ' Dora climbed, on tho bannister. Wsh — sh ! She was at the bottom, and bad slipped i from the nic« flat ond without "a sound. Marjprte followed, more slowly indeed, since she was not quite five, while , Dora was almost seven, but still without any noiso. | Down, 4own, until — she slipped from tha end before Dora could catch her, and fell, crash ! upon the floor, each of her shoes flying a different way. "Oh— h ! shrinked poor Mar-jone, ! half-frkhteued, half hurt. I "Sh — h!" attswered Dora, clapping a hand .on. her sister's mouth. ' Suddenly a door opened .upstairs. "Who's there?" demanded Papa sternly. The children crspt to the door without answerjng. This was quite a secret expedition. , "Who's there?" repeated papa, appearing at the top of tho stairs m dxH--1 sing-gown anil slippers. Dora- opened the door quickly and hurried putside. Marjovie folknved as papa, hearing something but seeing nothing in tb.6 dusk of the hall, began to descend — quickly,' though, of course, pot by the banisters. "Pull the door gently, Margy,',' whispered Dora, in her hurry kicking over the can of milk which the milkman had left at the door. "And mind tho cab," she added, catching sight of Snowball in the corner of the step.' Marjorie pulled, and bang went the door. "No-.v you've done it, silly," gasped Dora, taking her sister's hand. "Xttin for your life !"' They flew. As they crossed the path and reached, tlve lawn, the door 'opened again. . ' "Dora ! Dora!" shouted papa/, "Wh^i are you " But the rest was lost, as pap.a trod on pooy puss, who was busy with the spilled milk. Papa fell flat 6r> the ground af^er one or two useless hops, and he aad poor Snowball at once began to talk to each other abrtut fcho accident. Papa was particularly cross, for he was fond of animals, and do was as sorry to have hurt Sr^yball a. to have hurt himself. The children, 100 frightened how to wait, rushed over to the gate by the quickcst 1 way— thiougb a newly planted bed of geraniums ! "Oh, dear !" sighscl Dora, as she hoard the sudden alteration in papa's voice, and, realised what they had done. "Oh, dear!"' ■ ' But by "this time the two, passing through the garden gate 5 wero lost to sight oohind the hedge. H. ' When Papa had finished talking to Snowball he rose to his feefe, % and dusted ■himself down. Snowball had alrdady disappeared, and Papa, thinking that a dressing gown was not tho most suitable garden w^ar, ■went upstairs to change. "1 wonder rsvhat the. young scamps arc up to?" he asked himself. ' When he had dressed ho returned t<j the garden to look for the culprits. 1 Hs walked to the gate, noticing as he I passed that four of his geraniums ware broken. Arrived at the gate, Pap* stood leaning on it for a moment, looking for the children. They were nowhere to bs seen. Papa was just about to cross the field in front and search in the wood beyond, when ho felt a ticki ng at his light ear, and a small voice seemed to 6ayi-< i "They really didn't mean to do it." i Papa, Of course, quiokly brushed his ear with lys haud, and turned to see I tho speaker. i Instantly his Iflft ear tickled, and the I email voice went on. "It was quite an accident really." 1 Papa flapped a hand to his left ear, and twirled round, quickly again— .to find the voice and ,tho tickling once again at the opposite fear. "Perhaps you Mere never so naughty," he heard, as he brushed his ear again, rather impatiently this time, "but please forgive them this once." Papa smiled mysteriously, and, turning, caught sight" of his tormentor; a beautiful white and gold butter Ay. Tho butterfly flew to a tree o.ose by, and eeemed, Papa thought, to smile at him. Then it bowed its wings three times to him, and flew away upon a newly-arrived sunbeam. "White magic !" . cried Papa, in surprise "It was a- fairy." Thinking very hard on what tho butterfly had said of the time whoa he was a little boy, aud smiling sometimes too, Papa crossed tho Sold, and entered the wood. Tliore was still no sight of the children. He called, and called, but there was no reply. ■ However, lie knew thnt they were perfoctly safe, so, still smiling afc his, thoughts, Papa at last ]eft the wood, and went back to the garden. He had nearly finished putting new plants in p!aco of tho broken ones when he heard tho garden gntc creak. Peeping ahyly through the bars •uerc Doru. and Marjorie. Papa- straightened himself. "Young Tascals," he said. "What do you mean by such behaviour? 1 ' "Oh, Papa !" cried Dora, rushing up to him as she heard that he was not angry, "truly we didn't nienn to do it. It was finite an accident. '' ' Just what the butterfly had said, you sao. "Quite — quite a accerenf echoed Marjorie.; "Well, but what is it all about?" questioned Papa. "We got up very early to see the fairies playing, where' the fairy wands grow in tho wood," cried both children together. "They pay until the sun risr?, you know. But t hurts wasn't one. We M'ero too late."

'Too late, oh?" 6aid Papa. "Ah, you 6hould have stayed when 1 called you. I have seen one." "Oh, Papa," said Marjorie, staving at Papa with wondering blue eyes, "do let us see." "Oh, I didn't keep it," exclaimed Papa, looking shocked at the idea. "It flew away home on a sunbeam long ago. A beautiful fairy it was. Its wings were white and dazzling go-M." Of cotuse, the children were gTcatly disappointed. "I'll stay another time when Papa calls. Won't you, Marjorie?" said Dora, as they went into breakfast. "Yes, I will," answered Marjoiie, with conviction.— Floieuce Whyte, iv the Tribune.