THE NAUGHTY LEAF

Southland Times, Issue 23182, 24 April 1937, Page 7 (Supplement)

THE NAUGHTY LEAF

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— The old oak tree shivered, and bent in a wild autumn wind. Gaily her russet, gold and red leaves fluttered away, making a heap of fairy gold at her gnarled old feet. “My children are leaving me,” she moaned sadly. “They’ll fly far away to new lands, and not see their old mother again.” “Your children must be extremely naughty,” interrupted a silvery voice in her ear. A rustling, dancing poplar was standing beside her, haughty and proud. “Why are they not like mine?” she said. “Mine never leave their mother until she wishes.”

“I will not grieve,” said Mother Oak, moaning under the extra force of the wind. “They want to go and see the wide, wide world.” “Nevertheless,” sniffed the poplar, “they are extremely naughty.” And she tossed her silvery foliage, most of which was just turning gold. Away in her branches a tiny leaf heard the conversation.

“I say,” he called to a nearby brother. “Why don’t we fly away and see the wide, wide world, too?”

The brother was horrified. “How can you speak so,” he gasped. All the other leaves were trembling at the thought, but the little leaf was restless. He tugged and pulled and fluttered. At last he was free. Far over the fields he flew, leaving his mother, brothers and sisters, and a chuckling oak tree. “What a

naughty leaf,” she said. Meanwhile the naughty leaf was on his way to the wide, wide world. He fluttered on to a land away over the mountains and exhausted, he fell fast asleep on the doorstep of an old hut. A small boy found him, and took him to his mother. “Oh, Mother, this will be my lucky leaf,” he said. “It was on the doorstep for my birthday.” Several weeks later the boy won a prize for a beautiful painting. “It was all the luck leaf,” he spid, as he patted his pocket in which the naughty leaf lay; golden, dry and brittle. —3 marks to Cousin Ray McLeay M.A.C. (14), Otahu-Blackmount R.D., Otautau.