A DANCING LESSON

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 726, 27 July 1929, Page 33

A DANCING LESSON

“DEAR, dear," said the Little Thought with a gusty sigh, “you are the most backward dafl‘odil I have ever met, and you’re the first of the season to open in Happy Town. Don’t you know that flowers have to do dancing exercises every morning? NOW, stand on tiptoe like this, tilt your chin, then sway gently from side to side. Ah, that’s better. I think that will do for this morning. Stand at ease. Fold petals.” "Soon you will have quite a dancing class,” laughed the Jays-hop man, who had been listening with the greatest delight, "but why be so strict with your first pupil? She looks quite crestt’allen. Is she rather a dunce?” “Oh, she’s only a baby,” answered the Little Thought, “so we will have to excuse her. Doctor Spring Sunshine has been very worried lately. Every time he ventures into the Outside World, old Grandfather W'inter, who is still hanging about, sends his battalions of raindrop soldiers to try and rout him. You know he came to Happy Town early this year, because we were all longing for him, but no sooner does he go down Tiptoe Street than the raindrop soldiers drive him back. That is why they have just been having stray gleams of sunshine in the Outside World. Of course, this state of affairs cannot last long, but in the meantime what had we better do '3” “\Vell, perhaps we could send our army of Sunbeams to deal with the raindrop soldiers,” suggested the Joyshop man, “though, of course, I always keep plenty of bottled sunshine on my shelves.” “Solved!” laughed the Little Thought, clapping his hands. “We shall try a great ofl'eusive. . . . Those limericks are good. Did you read them? And there are some charming pictures of Tommy Squirrel, but the Dom-keeper still has the result of that competition locked away in the Place-of-You-Never-Can-Tel]. Isn’t that a long name for any residence? It has five hyphens. but I think he likes them because they look important.” “Well, a place that houses all the competition results, to say nothing of riddles and puzzles, deserves a long name,” conceded the J oyshop man. “There’s a puzzle competition this week,” mused the Little Thcught, “and I have just been reading a fine story explaining the meaning of happiness; also a dainty poem about that exquisite spring flower, the snowdrop. . . . Oh, dear, dear, we have ofi'ended this daffodil. She’s been eavesdropping.”