Graded Literature Readers: Fourth Book

48. As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony looked into his face, their eyes full of tears, which froze before they could run down their cheeks, and entreated him not to bring their snow-image into the house.

49. "Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kindhearted man. "Why, you are crazy, my little Violet – quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"

V

50. His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long, earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked just as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression quite away.

51. "After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"

A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she sparkled like a star.

52. "Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest over his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is half frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to rights."

53. The common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearthrug, right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.

"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make yourself at home, my child."

54. Sad, sad and drooping looked the little white maiden as she stood on the hearthrug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs and the stars glimmering frostily and all the delicious intensity of the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping, before the hot stove!

55. But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.

"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbors and find out where she belongs."

56. The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings. Without heeding the remonstrances of his two children, who still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor door carefully behind him.

57. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlor window.

58. "Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the child's parents!"

"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he reëntered the parlor. "You would bring her in; and now our poor – dear – beau-ti-ful little snow-sister is thawed!"

59. And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in this everyday world, felt not a little anxious lest his children might be going to thaw, too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an explanation of his wife.

60. She could only reply that, being summoned to the parlor by the cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the hearthrug.

"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a pool of water in front of the stove.

61. "Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"

"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and – I shudder to say – shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you how it would be. What for did you bring her in?"

62. And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare at good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief which it had done!

I. Rŭd´dĭ nĕss: redness. Phiz: face. Săl´lĭed: ran out. Ē̍ mẽrġed´: came out.

II. Wrôught: worked. Ûr´chĭn: a little boy. Dē̍ lĭb´ẽr ā̍te: slow and careful. Ăc´cū̍ rȧ çy̆: correctness. Ĭm ăġ´ĭ nȧ tĭve: full of fancies.

III. Ĭn hĕr´ĭt ançe: possession. At´mos phere: air. T̶hĭth´ẽr: to this place. Ăs´pĕct: appearance; look. Cŏm pĕlled´: forced; obliged. Lăg: go slowly. Cŏm prē̍ hĕnd´: understand. Ăs sĕv´ẽr āt ĕd: said earnestly.

IV. Pilot-cloth sack: a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth, such as pilots wear. Flĭm´s̝y: thin. Bē̍ nĕv´ō̍ lent: kind. Rē̍ lŭc´tant: unwilling.

V. Pĕs´tĭ lençe: the plague; a deadly disease. Rē̍ mŏn´stranç ĕs̝: objections. Glâre: stare; look fiercely.

Little, happy, rich, kind, strange, diligent, polite, strong, lifeless, lazy.

Name words having similar meaning: as, little, small.

Name words having opposite meaning: as, little, large.

Speak clearly if you speak at all;
Carve every word before you let it fall.

    HOLMES

Little by Little

1. Low on the ground an acorn lies —
Little by little it mounts to the skies,
Shadow and shelter for wandering herds,
Home for a hundred singing birds.
Little by little the great rocks grew,
Long, long ago, when the world was new;
Slowly and silently, stately and free,
Cities of coral under the sea
Little by little are builded, while so
The new years come and the old years go.

2. Little by little all tasks are done;
So are the crowns of the faithful won,
So is heaven in our hearts begun.
With work and with weeping, with laughter and play,
Little by little the longest day
And the longest life are passing away —
Passing without return, while so
The new years come and the old years go.

The House I Live In

I

1. This wonderful body of mine is the house in which I live. This house has five gates, through which messages from the outside world can get to me. There is Eye Gate, Ear Gate, Nose Gate, Taste Gate, and Touch Gate. All my knowledge of the things around me comes in through these five gates.

2. This house of mine has, in its lower story, a kitchen called the stomach. Here the food is cooked, or "digested," as we say, and prepared for being mixed with the blood. In the story above there is a great pump, the heart, which sends the blood through the house to keep it warm and in good repair.

Then, in the top story, or the head, is the room where the master or mistress of the house lives.

3. We should learn all we can about this house and what to do to keep it in good order. We should find out what is bad for it and what is good, that we may avoid the one and seek the other. Thus we may hope to grow up strong and healthy men and women. Good health will cheer us and make all our work easy and pleasant.