Vainly it tried to crawl along to a tree where it could twine itself around and climb, but it was too small, and then the rain came and made it cold and wet, and even the fickle wind did not come to it again.

Then the cold days came and the poor little Glory grew faded and had to crawl under the dead leaves for protection.

When the summer came again up came the little Glory, but it was a sad little flower. Now it longed to climb, but it was too small to do anything but lie on the ground.

After a while it grew near to a bush and put its weak little vine around it, hoping to get off the ground.

"What do you mean by trying to cling to me?" said the bush. "I have all I can do to take care of myself."

So the poor little Morning-glory dropped back to the ground. By and by it grew long enough to reach a tree and slowly it climbed up the big trunk until it came to the branches.

"Now I shall be able to see the world," it thought. "This tree is big and will shelter me, and I can climb to the very top."

As soon as the big tree saw what was happening it told the little Morning-glory it would not have it climbing about its branches, because it would spoil its leaves.

"What are you doing in our woods?" asked the tree. "You should be growing in a garden, on an arbor or up the side of some little house.

How came you here?"

The poor little Glory had to tell how it ran away from its mother with the breeze and was left alone in the woods all winter.

"Please don't send me back to the ground. I cannot see a thing there and I am so lonely," pleaded the little Morning-glory.

"I am sorry for you," said the tree, "but I cannot have my leaves spoiled on any account. I'll tell you what I will do, but you must be satisfied and never ask for more liberty. If you do, back you go to the ground."

The poor little Morning-glory was so lonely and sad it was ready to promise anything to get off the ground.

"You should stay where you are, but you cannot grow up any higher. If you do I shall grow my twigs and leaves about you and crush you," said the tree.

So the little Morning-glory had to promise to stay on the trunk of the tree and never grow any higher, but it sighed for its mother vine, and, because it could not climb, never grew any big blossoms, but tiny little flowers which sighed because they could not stretch out their vines and grow. But the tree kept the little Glory to its promise and not a vine could get above the trunk.

And then one day when the days grew cold and the Morning-glory vine was going to sleep for the winter, the runaway Glory was heard to say to the other blossoms: "Children, be careful of the breeze and what he may tell you next summer. I may not be here to care for you, but he will surely come and tempt you to go along with him. He is fickle and will carry you far, far away and then drop you in a place perhaps worse than this, for we do not belong here, but in a garden with other flowers. I ran away from my mother vine one day, and this is where the breeze left me; so cling to the big tree as long as you bloom, for here you are safe at least, even if you do not live and bloom in a garden." And then she went to sleep.

THE PEAc.o.c.k b.u.t.tERFLIES

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Peac.o.c.k b.u.t.terflies]

Plain little Miss b.u.t.terfly sat on a bush one day, when along came Mr.

Peac.o.c.k, with his tail full spread.

"Oh--oh!" sighed little Miss b.u.t.terfly. "How handsome he is! If only I could have a dress like the colors of Mr. Peac.o.c.k's tail all the other b.u.t.terflies in the world would envy me.

"But here am I, only a plain little creature, with no color to boast of, while all my cousins have gorgeously colored gowns. Oh, how I do wish he would give me two feathers from his tail that I might have them made into a gown!"

And then this plain little b.u.t.terfly, because she was so plain and had no beauty to speak about, began to think about handsome Mr. Peac.o.c.k.

"I wonder if he is vain?" she said out loud.

"Vain! Of course he is. There is no one in the world so vain as he,"

said a Bee, who was sipping honey near by.

Miss b.u.t.terfly did not ask any questions, and Mr. Bee was too busy to say more. But when he flew away Miss b.u.t.terfly began to think, and the more she thought the stronger became her intention to fly over to the Peac.o.c.k and speak to him.

Over she went, alighting on a flower near him.

"Mr. Peac.o.c.k," she said, "I wonder you never have wished to see yourself, you are so handsome."

"I have," replied Mr. Peac.o.c.k; "often I have gazed into the pond and beheld my handsome self."

"Oh, that is not at all what I mean," said Miss b.u.t.terfly. "Suppose you were to see the very pattern of your beautiful tail flying all about you. Then you could look at your beauty as it really is."

"I do not see at all what you mean," said Mr. Peac.o.c.k, who was not very quick at thinking.

"I mean if you would give me two tips from your beautiful tail I could have a handsomer gown than any other b.u.t.terfly in the world," said the little flatterer, "and besides that, you would no longer hear the yellow-and-black and those brown-and-black b.u.t.terflies say that they were the handsomest creatures in the garden. I should outshine them all."

Mr. Peac.o.c.k stood up and strutted about, and all the time little Miss b.u.t.terfly flew close to him and flattered him.

"Oh, how jealous they would be if I had a dress like your beautiful tail, for there are no colors in the world so gorgeous, and they would call me the Peac.o.c.k b.u.t.terfly! Think of that! You would have the most beautiful b.u.t.terfly in the world named for you, Mr. Peac.o.c.k!"

Mr. Peac.o.c.k could not resist this flattery. He told her she could choose the two tips she best liked and have some one to pull them out.

It did not take Miss b.u.t.terfly a minute to fly to the tree near by where Mr. Woodp.e.c.k.e.r was at work and ask his help, for she knew he did not bother b.u.t.terflies. His work was to find small insects.

Before the end of the summer the garden folk saw Miss b.u.t.terfly, but not plain little b.u.t.terfly now, for she wore the most gorgeous gown in the garden, of blue and black, and the next year all the other b.u.t.terflies were jealous of the Peac.o.c.k b.u.t.terflies, who wore the handsomest gowns in the world.

Mr. Peac.o.c.k struts more than ever every time he sees one of the handsome creatures he helped to dress, but no one knows that it was due to the flattery of plain little Miss b.u.t.terfly that the family name was created.

THE REVENGE OF THE GNOMES

[Ill.u.s.tration: Revenge of the Gnomes]

The Fairies decided to give a party one night, and invited the Goblins, but they did not ask the Gnomes, because they did not think of them.

The Gnomes live so deep in the earth that the Fairies seldom meet them, and so they really forgot and did not in the least intend to slight them. But the Gnomes heard the Goblins talking about the party one night and they were very angry because they were not asked also.

The woods were very beautiful, and some of the trees were wearing their red and yellow leaves, for it was late in the summer. When the moon came out the green and red and yellow made a pretty picture, and the Fairies were delighted with the setting for their party.

The Fairy Queen had a new carriage made from a petal of a white lily and drawn by two b.u.t.terflies. The Fairies all had new dresses of pink rose petals and they had the fireflies in all the bushes and trees where they looked like so many tiny electric lights.

Their table was spread on a big rock; the rabbits were to wait on the table because their coats were white, and squirrels were to do the cooking in a little hollow. The table cloth was spun by a spider and was so beautiful that the Queen, when she saw it, thought it was a shame to cover it with dishes, so she had the rabbits put the food on a rock behind a tree and leave the beautiful cloth so the Goblins could see it.

But when the Goblins arrived they looked at the table with dismay.

"Are not they going to have anything to eat?" they asked one another, seating themselves at the table and looking with anxious eye.

Not a word did they say to the Queen about the beautiful cloth, and she found that it was quite wasted on the greedy little Goblins.