Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building Part 70

She did not need a great cook-book; She knew how much and what it took To make things good and sweet and light.

What Mother does is always right.

WHO IS IT?

BY ETHEL M. KELLEY

Whose hair is all curly, an' eyes "baby-blue"?

Who wakes up too early 'fore night-time is fru?

Who dresses her pillow all up in the clo'es, An' counts all her piggies when n.o.body knows?

An' who's des' as _quiet_ as _quiet_ can be?

Muvver says--_me_.

Who w'ites wif a pencil all over a book?

An' who gets the ink when n.o.body does look?

An' who gets her fingies all blacker than black?

An' who gets 'em spatted when Muvver comes back?

An' who's des' as _sorry_ as _sorry_ can be?

Muvver says--_me_.

Who goes down to dinner on Sundays at two, All dressed in w'ite frillies, an' tied up in blue?

An' who waits for Father to cut up her meat, When she is _so_ hungry an' nuffin' to eat?

An' who's des' as "_patient_" as "_patient_" can be?

Muvver says--_me_.

Who gets on her nightie an' says all her prayers?

An' then comes a-stealin' an' creepin' down-stairs?

Who cuddles up comfy an' teases to stay?

An' who is so spoiled 'at she _won't_ go away, Even when she's as _sleepy_ as _sleepy_ can be?

Muvver says--_me_.

MY DEAREST IS A LADY

BY MIRIAM S. CLARK

My dearest is a lady, she wears a gown of blue, She sits beside the window where the yellow sun comes through; The light is s.h.i.+ning on her hair, and all the time she sews, She sings a song about a knight, a dear, brave knight she knows.

My dearest is a lady--and oh, I love her well!

Full five and twenty times a day this very tale I tell; For I'm the knight in armor, a s.h.i.+eld and sword I wear, And Mother is my lady, with the light upon her hair.

HOW MANY LUMPS!

How many lumps of sugar Ought a little girl to use To sweeten a cup of chocolate?

I can take just what I choose.

Five make it just like candy, And four are most as good-- There's no one to say I mustn't, Now I wonder if I should.

Three is what Nurse allows me, So that would be surely right.

Uncle Jack takes two lumps always And says it is "out of sight."

Five, four, three, two--I wonder-- Or none, just like Papa?

Well, after all, I'll take but one And copy my dear Mama.

[Ill.u.s.tration: From the painting by H. Morisset.

By permission of the artist.]

When Mother Goes Away

BY CLARA ODELL LYON

Says Bobby to Mother: "I'll be good as I can."

"I _know_ you will, Bobby; You're Mother's little man."

BUT--

His mother then takes every match from the box; The door of the pantry securely she locks; Puts the hammer and tacks, and the scissors and ink In the best hiding places of which she can think And wonders at last, as her hat she pins on, What mischief her Bobby will do while she's gone!

AN OLD SONG--"THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!"

When people ask me where I live, I hate to have to go and give A name like Smithville, plain.

I'd rather say:--"Sir, if you please, My home is in the Hebrides,"

Or, "High up in the Pyrenees,"

Or, "At Gibraltar, Spain."

"Constantinople," too, sounds fine, And "Drachenfels-upon-the-Rhine,"

And "Madagascar," too; And "Yokohama" sounds so great, And "Hindustan" is just first-rate; I rather like even "Bering Strait,"

And "Cuzco" in Peru.

And yet, I would not be at night, Alone upon the "Isle of Wight,"

Or on the "Zuyder Zee."

At "Nova Zembla," in a gale, I know that I should just turn pale; For fear of earthquakes, I should quail In "sunny Italy."

A place that sounds nice on the map, May have a little too much snap To keep within its wall, And so, though many names I see, That sound as stylish as can be, There's no place quite so good for me, As Smithville, after all!

_Blanche Elizabeth Wade._

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