The flower-pot on the window-sill which the third dandelion-child had made her home was taken inside one day, just when her flowers were ready to open.

[Illustration:]

“I must throw away this nasty weed,” said a voice, “before I plant my seeds.”  Then some little round, black, ugly seeds were laid down carefully, while the dandelion was rooted up and flung away into a back yard down below.

This is a sad story, you see, but it is perfectly true.

The others who had skipped about the meadows grew among long grass now, which nearly choked them, and completely hid them from the sun.  And when June came and the hay was cut, they too were cut and crushed before they had had any flowers at all.

But away in a corner, by a hedge—­hidden from all eyes and sheltered from cold winds—­the dandelion-child who had not wanted to go into the world grew stronger and more beautiful every day.  She knew nothing about fine gardens or admiring eyes—­and she cared nothing.  All she knew was that the sun looked down on her with all his brightness, and that the great blue sky into which she was always gazing was wide enough and fair enough for her.

E.D.

Conceit Bowled Out!

[Illustration:]

    He was a clever cricketer,
      And very proud of that;
    Conceitedly one afternoon
      He took his cricket bat. 
    But when he at the wicket saw
      His sister with her curls,
    He turned his nose up so, and said: 
      “I never play with girls!

    “They’re molly-coddles all,” he cried;
      “They always spoil a match;
    They cannot field or bowl a bit—­
      They cannot even catch! 
    However, just this once I’ll play!”
      O, pride had such a fall: 
    You should have heard them shout—­a girl
    Had bowled him out first ball!

C.B.

Laugh at It!

    When you hear the merry rain
    Patter at the window-pane,
    Think ’twill soon be fine again;
        So laugh at it!

    If you chance to tumble down,
    Though you bump your little crown,
    Never cry or pout or frown,
        Just laugh at it!

    When the sum is hard to do,
    Rub it out and try anew;
    When you get the answer true
        You’ll laugh at it!

C.B.

[Illustration:]

The Dancing Academy

    This is the way, on a rainy day,
      We teach our dolls to dance—­
    The doll in blue, and the Scotchman true,
      And Lady Belle from France. 
    It’s heel and toe and it’s to and fro,
      They all can do it well;
    But the best of all our pupils small
      Is darling Lady Belle!