FullReads

Just then Tommy, the boy who threw stones, and chased the cats, and did all sorts of things that were naughty, pushed his dirty face against the fence. Oh my, she could never tell stories to him! But Tommy saw her there in the garden and said:

“Wisht you would give me a posy. Mom’s sick and she hain’t got none.”

Then the gate of the garden was opened and Barbara said:

“Of course I will give you some flowers for your mother. Choose what you would like and I will cut it with these shears.”

“Um! Um!” said Tommy. “Um! I’d like some of them blue flowers. Say, I like blue flowers, and blue sky, and I like that blue dress. I wish Mary had a blue dress.”

“And who is Mary?” said Barbara.

“Oh, she is one of my sisters,” said Tommy. “You see, there is six of us and Mary is the pretty one. She has blue eyes and curls. Um! Um! I wish you could see her.”

“I’d like to see her,” said Barbara. “If you will go and bring her here I will tell you both a story. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” said Tommy. “Sure I would. Kin I bring them all?” and off he ran with his precious flowers.

In five minutes he was back, followed by Mary and Katie and Jimmie and Mike and Susan–all dirty, all barefoot, and all in a hurry to see the flowers and hear the story. About this time Barbara began to feel queer inside. How could she ever keep them still? Suppose they should begin to run over her father’s flowers! She almost wished she had not asked them to come. But she remembered for what she was working, and she said to herself, “Chante, I serve; Chante– I serve,” over and over till her courage came back.

Then she seated them all on the steps and began. Susie wanted “Red Riding Hood,” and Katie wanted “Goldilocks,” so these were first. Then Mary wanted “Cinderella,” but Tommy was not to be forgotten.

“I want a boy’s story. Tell me the one you promised me or I’ll push the rest all home,” he said.

What could she do? She never remembered having read a boy’s story. Oh dear, maybe she couldn’t win Tommy.

Over and over in her mind went the stories she had gotten ready. Then she remembered one that she had loved years ago. It was about Cedric, the Knight. This was just the one for Tommy. So she told it to him while his eyes grew bigger and bigger. When the story was done, Barbara and Tommy were friends and Tommy had a new hero.

When the dinner bell rang, she was still telling stories to the dirty little group but she had forgotten why she was doing it, for she was living the stories with the children.

The days went by and every morning found Barbara out in the garden, if only for one story, but now the Lowinskys were not the only ones. They had brought their neighbors and friends till the group sometimes numbered forty. The steps had grown too small, so they had moved to the wall. Then that had not been satisfactory, so they had moved out under the trees away down by the little brook. Here the birds sang, the little brook whispered, and everything was just right for the little story-teller. Over and over she had told the stories with a new one now and then, but Cedric, the Knight, was the favorite one. Tommy always stood near Barbara and saw to it that all the boys were listening, so he had a fine chance to whisper, “Now my story. Please tell mine.”

And she was telling it again one morning when she realized that some one stood near who was not a child. It was Miss Rose, her guardian, who listened for a moment and then drew back where the children could not see her. When the story hour was over, she was nowhere to be seen. But later in the evening a package was left at the door for Barbara. It contained that precious dress for which she had longed.

Pinned to the dress was a card which said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these, my little ones, ye have done it unto me.” And below was written, “I shall be glad to have you put your symbol on my dress before Friday night so that we may tell the girls at the Ceremonial about your story-group.”

Later when Barbara had finished the embroidery, it showed a tiny figure of a primitive woman surrounded by little children. And the little lady was telling them a story. She had found her way to serve.