OUR OWN STORY-TELLERS.

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXIII, Issue 18761, 27 December 1930, Page 12

OUR OWN STORY-TELLERS.

(Stories held over from the Christmas Page). DOT’S PUNISHMENT. As Dorothy, (Dot for short), lay under the shady old apple-tree in the orchard, she wondered if mother would think It a warm enough day to go swimming. When Dot went swimming she dearly loved to dive, and although only a slight child of ten, she knew she was an expert at diving. She ran in to get mother's consent and was warned for the hundredth time that she must not dive, as that pool was unsafe for little girls, being covered with ragged pieces of rock all over the bottom. Naughty Dot thought mother knew very little about the pool, because, though she promised not t 0 dive, only last week she had dived four times in quick succession, and the pool seemed perfectly safe then. Dot was the baby of the family and was a trifle spoilt. She ran eagerly to get her new blue bathing suit and cap, which Cousin Beth had sent her, only that morning. She had only a short distance to walk along the railway bridge and she was at her favourite pool. Donning her bathing suit, and feeling very proud of herself, she dived in and had a lovely swim. “How cool and fresh the water is,” thought Dot. She swam about just like a flxh, and then made up her mind to have a rest on the rocks and decide if she would have just one dive. The day was very warm, and soon Dot’s little head be_ n to nod. “Yes, she would dive. Down! Down! she went. Oh, diving had never been as lovely as this ever before!” She came to the bottom with a thud. There stood a ferocious looking little man scowling at her. “Dorothy, I wish to speak sternly to you!” he said. “Come to my study.” Dot felt her knees quivering, but seemed forced to obey. She was led into an ugly dark room filled with horrible little fishes. “Did your mother not forbid you to dive down here, Dorothy?” Dot answered with a tiny “Yes!” “Look at your new bathing suit!” he commanded. Dot looked tearfully down and there, right down the side of her pretty suit, was a big tear. “Now, Dorothy, I will show you what we do with little girls who do not obey their mothers. Follow me!” Dot’s eyes swam, and she felt herself growing smaller and smaller. She gave a tiny sob, and then sat up and rubbed her eyes. Imagine her relief when she found it had only been a bad dream. Dot never had any inclination to dive in that dangerous pool again. (5 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to "Herald of Spring,”—Ethel Fleming, Glenavy, aged 13.)