OUR RING TO-NIGHT

Evening Post, Volume CVI, Issue 85, 20 October 1928, Page 15

OUR RING TO-NIGHT

Joyce Baker, Vogeltown.—You never can', tell, ■ Joyco .. . day or nijht, by sun or moon, their revels arc.'held. I've seen them :In a city street at high noon and when-the sun comes slanting down the dust.'■ Pattie Campbell, Lower Hurt.—So "it's a soro -. loot that brings nobody good" will.have to be . our proverb, yours- and mine, since it was . just that that brought you back, eh ? Edward Bossie, Seatoun.—ltather! . . . young Tom'o adventures are such a jolly mixture of the real and pretend tilings it's hard In the end to tell which is which, isn't it? I love it too. "Fairy Queen," Johnsonvillc.—Perhaps it was the unhappy-mate of mine searching the storm tor the wounded one? The late sunsettlngs have brought the summer nearer, haven't they. ....-■ . . Iris Baker, Brooklyn.—And surely anything as , : sweet as that slender flower deserved a prize. , We're awfully glad you want to come to Our' King, Tiny one. Connie Adlam. Miramar.—Why then, that's the easiest thing „ . it's done already and Iwe want to know you as soon as soon. "Or. Dolittle." Mastarton Small one, we're as glad as anything. But how is it you're there .... and your brothers here? "Mrs. Tittlemouse," Newtown.—l think little . Chinese girls know just as well as English ones • the people who arc worth liking, don't you? lona MacMee, Lyall Bay.—lt's very little indeed of your news you give us surely? Merle MacMee, Lyall Bay.—The farm, I think, would be the best part of the holiday if- it was the tlmo when all the new things hap-

"Tho Guys," Highland Park.—lt sounds thrilling, but we really ought to know who wrote it so that we can ask the bookshops, you ; see. Do they truly and honestly lose their . ■ Sales? What a queer'three ... Don't they even want to'swallow^ one another? "Purple Hcathfir," Wellington.—Tt was a splcn(lid and-'wou&rful adventure that needed real . lii Toes, wasn't'it," ili=atji»r? ■You've a. boiiuti- ' ful end of the town; for yours. The sack-slid-ing sounds the jolliest fun I Douglas Inniss, Wellington South.—ls it comfy to bo homo again with all your owncst tilings and people? So the strawberries welcomed you with flowers . . . that was dear of them. "Noonartomen," Wad«stown.—That, was a horrid price to pay for; a happy clay, wasn't it ". . . unless you find remembering tilings . rather fun as I do. "Pansy," Khandallah.—l'm glad . . . you're sweeter far' than the gaudy fellow. It'a trying makes the wise one, small thing. "Penelope Gane," Wadestown.—Are the fishes tiny perches, perhaps . . . and is it the same sweet ona that tumbles its way through Wilton's Bush? Couldn't you yourself read my little word to you? "Petal," Khandallah.—A wee sister with pink . nall-pollsh hair would scare even young Mar--1 cus surely. Bronze among the yellow ..- .. . doesn't the Maker of Things know .what is beautiful! "White Hawk," Wellington.—How happy though to have the small sister home again! She . must be lots better, though, to be able to come