Laugh and Play Part 1

Laugh and Play.

by Various.

_Laugh_ and play all the day: Don't you think with me When I say that's the way If you'd happy be?

Maid and lad, if we had Never time for song, Always sad, never glad, Days would seem so long!

Tear and sigh make the sky Dark and sad and grey; Never cry--only try Just to laugh and play.

Faces bright make sunlight All the merry day; Frowns they fright out of sight-- So we'll laugh and play.

_C.B._

[Ill.u.s.tration: A HAPPY DAY.]

Laugh and Play

"Come and have a game at soldiers, Dulcie."

"I can't, Harold; don't you see I'm busy?"

"Busy writing rubbis.h.!.+ How you can be so silly as to waste your time like that I can't think. It isn't as if you really _could_ write poetry, and I call it downright conceited for a girl to pretend she can. So, do leave off, there's a dear, and come and have a game. I want to try my new cannon, and you shall have first shot if you will come."

But Dulcie was offended. A week ago she had written a verse about Harold's dog, and father had said it was very good and had given her sixpence for writing it. Since then she had spent most of her spare time trying to write other verses, but this afternoon she was beginning to get a little tired of being a poetess and to long for a good game.

When Harold suggested soldiers, she really wanted to play, for she was almost as fond of boys' games as her brother was; but she thought it sounded grand to pretend she was busy. Then when Harold called her silly and conceited she grew angry and sulked.

"Do come, Dulcie; don't be cross!"

"Go away, you rude boy," replied Dulcie.

Harold tried coaxing for a little while longer, and then he went away and left his sister alone in the school-room. It was very lonely there, and before five minutes had pa.s.sed Dulcie heartily regretted that she had refused Harold's offer.

"But he _was_ horrid," she said, "and anyway _he_ is miserable too; he can't bear playing alone."

Harold, however, was anything but miserable, for, on peeping out of the window, Dulcie saw him in the next-door garden helping the children there to make a big snow-man. He was laughing and shouting, and had evidently forgotten all about her.

A lump seemed to have suddenly risen in her throat, and as she crept back to the table two big tears fell splas.h.i.+ng down upon the poem she had been trying to write and blotted out some of the words; then down went her head upon the paper, and in another moment she was sobbing pitifully.

It was almost dark when Harold came running up to the school-room, and, bursting open the door, cried cheerily: "Such a lark, Dulcie; just listen. Hullo," he added, "what's the matter?"

In another moment his arm was round his sister's neck and she was rubbing her tear-stained cheek against his cold rosy one.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

"O, Harold," she sobbed, "I've been so miserable. I'm sorry I was so disagreeable."

"Never mind; is _that_ all you're crying about? Well, I was horrid too: I teased you when you were writing, and I daresay your poetry _is_ clever."

"No, it isn't," said Dulcie; "it's as stupid as stupid can be, and I'll never try to write a piece again," and with that she picked up the offending paper and dropped it into the fire.

Harold gave her a brotherly hug, for he really was glad Dulcie had come to this decision, for he had found her new accomplishment a little trying at times.

"But I haven't told you my news yet," he said. "I've been playing with the Grahams all the afternoon, and Mrs. Graham came out just now and has invited us to go there to tea and have a good game afterwards, and Tom told me there was to be a Christmas-tree. So come along and let's tell nurse, for it's time to get ready."

O, what a good time the children had that evening, and how they did laugh and play! Dulcie was amongst the merriest there, and when she and Harold went home that night, laden with toys from the Christmas-tree, she said: "Wasn't I a silly girl to sit and cry and be miserable this afternoon, when I might have been so happy?"

_L. L. Weedon._

The Elder Tree

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

There was a fascinating little stream just at the other side of the low wall that bounded the garden, and this stream had more attractions for Sydney than anything else about the holiday home.

It was not for its cool murmuring sound that Sydney liked it, nor for its crystal clearness--though he must have felt the charm of all this during those hot August days. He had found a beautiful place where he could put a water-wheel, and he was as busy as he could be planning and making one. He had his little box of tools with him, and it was easy to get pieces of wood; and for the rest Sydney's cleverness in "making things" was well known to his sisters and brother, and held in great reverence by them. They never "meddled," and so were graciously allowed to come and admire.

"O, bother!" exclaimed Sydney, "here's this little plague! You can't come here, Walter," he called out. "Go back to the garden and play there."

But little Walter had already climbed over the loose stones and was running towards the stream.

Sydney jumped up from the ground and went to meet him.

"Did you hear, Walter?" said he; "go back and play. I don't want you here."

"O, _please_, Sydney," said a pleading voice, as a pair of childish blue eyes were lifted up to the face of the elder boy, "I _do_ want to see the water-mill! I won't touch it--I promise."

"You won't get the chance," said Sydney roughly. "Just you go back when you're told. You've got Madge and Johnny to play with."

"But Madge doesn't make water-wheels, and I'm tired of her play, and Johnny is indoors. Do let me watch you, Sydney!"

But all Sydney's answer was to take the little boy by the shoulders and march him back to the wall. He felt very angry.

"Now, look here, Walter," he said, "in that elder-bush there lives a ghost that comes out sometimes. I think you'd better keep away from it, for you're the sort of chap that would be caught."

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

Sydney, seeing the sudden fear in the child's face as he turned his eyes towards the elder-tree, thought he had hit on a very happy plan for keeping Walter away.

"I've given him a fright," said he, as he went back to where his sisters were sitting by the edge of the stream. "I've told him there's a ghost in that tree. He won't come past it in a hurry."