Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 15, April 12, 1914

"Another one came and helped him," said Billy. "They were both working hard when I came to school."

"Billy, you're fooling us."

"You can come and see for yourselves," said Billy. "You can see if it isn't exactly as I've said."

"Let's do it."

It was agreed, and after school a number of small boys took with him the road leading to Billy's home. As they went in by the shady back yard, Billy held up his hand, saying:

"S-h-h-h-h—don't scare 'em! Now—come this way—look up there!"

Billy led the way into a corner and pointed up into an oak tree.

"There—right above that branch—see? They've got their sticks for the foundation, and now they're finishing up. Quick—see that flash of blue just where the sun shines! Look! look! they're pulling at that bit of red yarn—I put it up there. My mother always hangs bits of string about for 'em. My mother likes blue-birds."—Written for Dew Drops by Sydney Dare.

When anyone speaks to us in anger, we should remember that it takes two to make a quarrel, and determine not to become one of the two.

ENID'S FLOWERS

    By Mari E. Q. Brush

The first robin had come, so had the first bluebird and the first hand-organ man; caterpillars were beginning to crawl along the sunny side of the fence rails and everybody was housecleaning, so it was quite certain that spring was here.

With it there came to the three little Ashley sisters three packets of seeds.

A lady friend of their mother had sent them. Every one of them had printed on it, "A Surprise Collection."

When the little, light-brown envelopes were opened, they were found to contain several varieties of seeds. Some were like little, round, brown pills—those were "sweet-peas," mamma said. Others were very small indeed, like grains of powder, and some were like tiny, grayish-green sticks—somebody said those were verbena seeds; and, well, dear me, there were all kinds and shapes and sizes and grays and browns.

Three neat, round beds were spaded up on the lawn, and Amy, Enid and Ruth raked them over, smoothed and patted the rich soil, and then planted their seeds.

Of course, you know what happened next. There had to be waiting, watching, weeding and watering. Most of the seeds sprouted and grew, and soon the dark brown earth was covered by green shoots and trailing sprays.

By and by, buds began to appear and tiny bits of color to show, and then how happy the little girls were!

All but Enid. She was pleased, but also a little disappointed.

Now, it so happened, that Ruth's "Surprise Collection" turned out to be pansies, asters, phlox and ragged sailors—all posies of bright pink, purple and crimson in various shades. Amy's garden plot was gay with marigolds, four-o'clocks, larkspurs, and bachelor's-buttons—all orange and yellow, blue and purple.

But Enid's flowers were nearly all white, and it was truly a surprise, though not a very agreeable one. She had white verbenas, sweet alyssum, candytuft, daisies and gillyflowers.

Consequently, her flower bed did not attract as much attention from the passers-by as did the gay ones of her sisters.

"Anyhow, almost all my posies are sweet-smelling," the little girl said, trying her best to be contented. For, after all, to own flowers, every one of which was fragrant, was a comfort.

Then, there came another comfort—a real "surprise" comfort. Late one evening, after the family had been away all day, attending the Sunday-school picnic, and drove home in the moonlight, what do you suppose they saw as they turned in at the gateway? Why, there on the lawn, was a great circle of white, gleaming like frosted silver.

"Wonder if a sheet has blown off the clothesline," said grandma.

"Oh, it isn't a sheet—it's my flower bed! It's my dear, darling white posies!"

And, sure enough, the white flowers could be seen in the dark, when all the gay reds and yellows and blues and purples were dim and dull.

Enid felt very happy.

"I like 'surprise collections' you can see at night," she said.

TRUE LOVE

"How much I love, you, mother dear,"
A little prattler said;
"I love you in the morning bright,
And when I go to bed.

"I love you when I'm near to you,
And when I'm far away;
I love you when I am at work,
And when I am at play."

And then she shyly, sweetly raised
Her loving eyes of blue—
"I love you when you love me best,
And when you scold me, too."

The mother kissed her darling child,
And stooped a tear to hide:
"My precious one, I love you most
When I am forced to chide.

"I could not let my darling child
In sin and folly go;
And this is why I sometimes chide—
Because I love you so."

    —Sel.

A RUNAWAY UMBRELLA

There was a big umbrella with a pretty twisted handle, that belonged to father, and he carried it down town on rainy days. There was a little brown-eyed girl, who was four years old her last birthday; that was Marjorie.

There was a mischievous south wind that would be quiet for a long time and then come with a quick gust and blow, oh, ever so hard and play all sorts of pranks on people.

Then, there was a lady who sat on a porch not very far from Marjorie's house. These four together made a story, and that's what I am going to tell you about.

It was a beautiful sunny day and Marjorie was going out in the front yard to play. As she went through the hall there, by the hall tree, stood the big umbrella.

"Wouldn't it be fun to take the umbrella and play rainy day?" she thought. So she reached and picked it up.