The mother pushed the man with the black hair down, down, into the box and shut the lid. Poor Squeaky felt the springs close down on him and squeaked, "Ee-ee-"

"That was a fine squeak," said the father. "The toys are wonderful these days."

"Yes," said the mother, as she turned off the light. "When I was a child, we did not have such toys."

"I am in a trap," said poor Squeaky, "but there isn't even a bit of cheese in it. I wonder what kind of trap it is; nothing seems to hurt me. Well, I am safe for a while, and I hope I shall soon get out."

Squeaky lay in the box all night, and wondered what Sniffy and Sharpeyes were doing. The next morning, he heard children calling, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" And soon the toys were taken down, one by one. Then such a noise was heard--drums beating, horns tooting, children shouting. You should have heard it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The mother is surprised as Squeaky escapes]

"See our new doll's house!" cried one child.

"See my new train! How fast it goes!" cried another.

"And see my beautiful dolly!" cried another. "She can open and shut her eyes."

By and by the mother took the box from the tree. "Come here, Teddy," she said. "Here is a scare box. We will have some fun. Watch me open the lid."

Teddy stood by his mother and watched closely.

"Are you ready?" asked his mother. "Well, let us count. One, two, three!"

The lid flew open, and out jumped the man with the black hair and black whiskers. And with a squeak of joy, out jumped the mouse.

"Ee-ee-ee!" he cried, as he ran away.

"Ee!" said the Jack-in-the-box.

"Whee-ee-ee!" cried the boy with delight.

"Oh,--a mouse! a mouse!" cried the mother. Then she threw the box on the floor and jumped up on her chair.

"Where? where?" cried all the children.

But they saw only the tip of Squeaky's tail as he ran across the hall to the pantry. Another moment and he was safe in the hole in the pantry wall.

The children's father laughed as he helped their mother climb down from the chair.

"Well," he said, "how did _you_ enjoy Teddy's scare box?"

--GEORGENE FAULKNER.

THE GLAD NEW YEAR

It's coming, boys, It's almost here.

It's coming, girls, The grand New Year.

A year to be glad in, Not to be sad in; A year to live in, To gain and give in.

A year for trying, And not for sighing; A year for striving And healthy thriving.

It's coming, boys, It's almost here.

It's coming, girls, The grand New Year.

--MARY MAPES DODGE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The goose and the hen]

MAKING THE BEST OF IT

"What a dreary day it is!" grumbled the old gray goose to the brown hen.

They were standing at the henhouse window watching the falling snow which covered every nook and corner of the farmyard.

"Yes, indeed," said the brown hen. "I should almost be willing to be made into a chicken pie on such a day."

She had scarcely stopped talking when Pekin duck said fretfully, "I am so hungry that I am almost starved."

A little flock of chickens all huddled together wailed in sad tones, "And we are so thirsty!"

In fact, all the feathered folk in the henhouse seemed cross and fretful. It is no wonder they felt that way, for they had had nothing to eat or drink since early in the morning. The cold wind howled around their house. Hour after hour went by, but no one came near the henhouse.

The handsome white rooster, however, seemed as happy as usual. That is saying a great deal, for a jollier old fellow than he never lived in a farmyard. Sunshine, rain, or snow were all the same to him, and he crowed quite as merrily in stormy weather as in fair.

"Well," he said, laughing, as he looked about the henhouse, "you all seem to be having a fit of dumps."

n.o.body answered the white rooster, but a faint cluck or two came from some of the hens. They immediately put their heads back under their wings, however, as if ashamed of having spoken at all.

This was too much for the white rooster. He stood first on one yellow foot and then on the other. Turning his head from side to side, he said, "What's the use of looking so sad? Any one would think that you expected to be eaten by a band of hungry foxes."

Just then a brave little white bantam rooster hopped down from his perch. He strutted over to the big rooster and caused quite a flutter in the henhouse by saying:

"We're lively enough when our crops are full, but when we are starving, it is a wonder that we can hold our heads up at all. If I ever see that farmer's boy again, I'll--I'll--I'll peck his foot!"

"You won't see him until he feeds us," said the white rooster, "and then I guess you will peck his corn."

"Oh, oh!" moaned the brown hen. "Don't speak of a peck of corn."

"Madam," said the white rooster, bowing very low, "your trouble is my own,--that is, I'm hungry, too. But we might be worse off. We might be in a box on our way to market. It is true that we haven't had anything to eat to-day, but we at least have room enough to stretch our wings."

"Why, that is a fact," clucked the brown hen. And all the feathered family--even the smallest chickens--stretched their wings, and looked a little more cheerful.