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Mr. Redbreast gave his tail a pleased little shake and flew away, leaving Helen to spank the other pillow and to wonder what she could do to "help her-r-r, cheer her-r-r."
A blue ribbon was hanging out of the top bureau drawer. "The very thing!" cried Helen. "I'll straighten out her drawer. It's always in a muss!" And she fell to work with a will, rolling, and folding, and arranging things in neat little piles.
The baby stood watching her. "There! What do you suppose she'll think of that, Buddy?" she asked, as she gave the last pile a happy pat. Then a new idea popped into her head. She flew downstairs, took a sheet of writing paper out of the desk, and printed something on it in big black letters. Then, running back to her room, she laid the paper on the rows of nice neat piles and carefully closed the drawer.
"I hope she won't mind," she said with a twinkling little smile as she pulled Buddy up on her lap for a story.
The story was only half finished when Polly burst in. "What do you think, Helen!" she cried, tossing her hat and coat in an untidy heap on the bed. "I'm invited to a party! What shall I wear?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Help her-r-r! Cheer her-r-r!" sang Mr. Redbreast]
She ran to the bureau and pulled open the top drawer with a jerk. Within lay Helen's paper. Polly picked it up. "April fool!" she read aloud. She looked into the drawer, then at Helen, her face brightening into a sudden smile with her surprise.
"Helen, you're a dear!" she cried. "And I'm just a silly, cross old bear! This is just the loveliest April fool that ever was. I didn't suppose folks could play _nice_ April fool jokes."
Just then the sun came out from behind a cloud and peeped through the window. Helen pointed to it. "Another nice April fool for you, Polly."
But Polly wasn't listening. She stood quietly thinking for a moment, then she picked up her hat, shook out her coat, and started toward the closet.
"April fool!" she said with a laugh, as she hung them inside. "That's another joke on you, Miss Polly Untidy Crosspatch. A few more April fools might turn you into neat Miss Polly Polite. It's about time you turned over a new leaf."
"I think I hear it rustling," said Helen, listening.
"Hear-r-r! Hear-r-r! Hear-r-r!" chirped Mr. Redbreast joyously from the tree.
[Ill.u.s.tration: He started for the house with an armful of wood]
THE THREE B's
The Three B's Club had only one rule--each member was to try every day to be all three of the B's.
Usually it was quite easy to be one B. Often it was not so very difficult to be two B's. But to be three B's was many times very, very hard indeed.
The Sat.u.r.day Ned Brown's father gave him the new catching glove was one of those times. Ned wanted to go out and try the glove. Just as he was starting, however, Mrs. Brown called him.
"Ned," she said, "the wood box is empty!"
Ned knew what that meant, but he remembered B Number Two in time to keep from frowning.
"All right," he called back cheerily, and went out, whistling, to the barn.
Thwack! went the ax into the wood. Ned was strong, and every blow told.
His mother, hearing the chopping, smiled to herself. She knew about the B's.
"Whew!" said Ned presently, stopping for breath. "This is being B Number One, all right. Two B's in one morning aren't so bad!"
"Hi, Ned!" came over the fence as he started for the house with an armful of wood. "Why don't you come over? You said you had a new glove."
"Have," answered Ned as two other members of the Three B's climbed into sight. "Wait a minute."
He dumped his wood into the box in the kitchen, and then ran proudly back with the precious glove. "Here it is."
The boys felt of it, pinched it, tried it on. "It's a dandy. Come on and catch!" they urged.
"Can't just yet. You can use it till I come." And Ned returned to his work, while the boys ran off with the glove.
The Three B's met at Ned's house that afternoon. The club always reported once a week on their success as B's.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Brown was just coming in with a pitcher of lemonade.]
"I don't have any chance to be B Number Three," complained Ned, when his turn came to talk.
Mrs. Brown was just coming in with a pitcher of lemonade. "I know better, Ned," she said. "How about chopping wood when you wanted to play ball? That made all three B's this morning--Busy, Bright, and Brave."
"And I know another B Number Three, too," cried Ned Baker. "How about loaning us your catching glove when you hadn't used it yourself?"
Ned smiled shyly, and B Number Two was written all over his face as he slowly sipped his lemonade.
TEDDY'S HELPERS
Christmas was near, and there were only a few pennies in Teddy's apple bank.
"I'm afraid I won't have money enough to buy them, mummie," said Teddy wistfully. "Won't you--" His eyes looked the question his lips wanted to ask.
"No, Teddy," said his mother. "For then it would be my present instead of yours."
"But Arthur's hands get so cold carrying the clothes!" Teddy's eyes fell to his own hands, which were always snug and warm in their red mittens.
The washerwoman's little boy had no mittens.
"Earn some money, Teddy," suggested his mother.
Teddy's face fell. "How can I?" he said.
"Keep your eyes open and do the thing they tell you to do."
"All right," answered Teddy. "I'll try."
[Ill.u.s.tration: How the snow did fly as he dug and sc.r.a.ped and shoveled!]
At that moment Father Sun, who had been peeping through the window, slipped behind a cloud.