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Ebook has 591 lines and 33495 words, and 12 pages

THE LITTLE LADY AND THE STORY TELLER

THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO THEM

In the House of Many Windows which stands in a large city and is sometimes called a "flat" by people who, because they are grown up, do not know any better, live the Little Lady and the Story Teller.

The Little Lady is four years old, going on five, and is fond of stories. This makes her and the Story Teller good friends. They mostly sit in the firelight after supper, and while the Little Lady is being undressed they tell each other all that has happened since morning. Then the Little Lady looks into the fire and says:--

"Now, tell me a story."

Sometimes she wants a new story. Sometimes one of the old ones, which must be told always the same, because the Little Lady, like a good many grown up people, does not care for new and revised editions, but wants the old stories in the old words, that sound real and true. Sometimes the Story Teller forgets or improves on his plots, but the Little Lady never forgets and never fails to set the Story Teller right.

THE HOLLOW TREE PEOPLE

THE LITTLE LADY IS INTRODUCED TO THE 'COON, THE 'POSSUM AND THE OLD BLACK CROW

When the Story Teller came home last night the Little Lady had a great deal to tell him. During the afternoon she had built in one corner of the sitting room a house for her three dolls, with a separate room for each. Of course, the house was not a house at all, but only a plan on the floor made with blocks and books. At one side she had laid out a large parlor room, where her family of three--Hettie, Annabelle and the Rubber Boy--could meet together and talk.

"Why," said the Story Teller, "that reminds me of the Crow, the 'Coon and the 'Possum."

"What did they do? Tell me that story," commanded the Little Lady, promptly forgetting her day's work and pulling the Story Teller toward his chair.

The Story Teller stirred the fire and looked into the blaze a moment, thinking. The Little Lady climbed up into his lap and waited. She was used to the Story Teller.

"Tell it," she said, presently.

So then he told her the story of the three friends.

Once upon a time in the far depths of the Big Deep Woods there was a big hollow tree, with three big hollow branches. In one of these there lived a 'Coon, in another a 'Possum and in the third a Big Black Crow.

"But crows don't live in hollow trees," said the Little Woman, who happened to be passing.

"This one did," replied the Story Teller. "I suppose styles have changed some since then."

The hollow tree below was rather dark, so they all used it for a parlor, and only met in there now and then, to dust off their things, or when company came.

Now, the Crow and the 'Coon and the 'Possum were all very fond of good living and mostly of the same things. They were good friends, too, and they often made plans to catch young chickens and other game and carried them out together. Between trips they would sit in their doors and pass the time of day across to each other, just like folks.

Well, one winter, about two weeks after New Year's, it came on to snow in the woods where the hollow tree was, and it snowed, and it snowed, and it snowed.

This was long before sleds or skates, and when big snows always came up over people's windows and snowed them in. And this is what happened to the Crow and the 'Coon and the 'Possum. They were snowed in!

Well, they rather liked it at first, for they had a good deal left over from New Year's dinner, and they used to get together down stairs in the parlor and spread lunch and pitch the bones under the table and talk and tell stories and wonder how long the snow would last.

But they never counted on its lasting half so long as it did. Every day they would look out of an upstairs window that they had, to see if the storm wasn't over. And every day it was just the same, and there was no sign of clearing up. Then they began to get scared, for their cupboards were nearly empty, and there was no chance to catch any more game. At last every scrap was gone, and there wasn't a thing to eat in the house.

The 'Possum went to bed and pulled up the covers and tried to sleep so he would forget it. The 'Coon sat up in a rocking chair and rocked on purpose to think about it, for he was a great hand to plan, and he thought mebbe he could work it out some way. The Crow didn't do either, but walked about his house, picking up first one thing and then another, as people do sometimes when they don't do anything else. But the Crow was luckier than most people who do that, for by and by he picked up quite a big paper sack with something in it. Then he untied it and looked into it quite a while, thinking. It was more than half full of corn meal, and pretty soon he remembered that he had carried it off once when he was passing Mr. Man's pantry window, not because he wanted it, but because he was a crow, and crows carry off anything that isn't too big, whether they want it or not. Then he hunted around some more and found another sack with some flour in it that he had picked up once in the same way. Then he found some little bags of pepper and salt and a lump of butter.

"My!" said the Little Lady, "but he'd carried off a lot of things!"

Yes, crows always do, and hide them that way. Well, he didn't say anything, but he slipped down stairs and gathered up some of the chicken bones under the table and some pieces of bark and sticks, and brought them up to his own part of the house and shut the door. Then he kindled a little fire in the stove with the sticks and opened his outside door a crack and got a skillet full of snow and put it on, and when the snow melted he dropped in the chicken bones and let them stew, and then a little of the flour and some pepper and salt and stirred it, and he had some nice gravy.

Then Mr. Crow poured the gravy into a bowl and set it back on the stove to keep warm while he stirred up some of the cornmeal in some more melted snow, with a little pinch of salt and a little piece of the butter. When it was all stirred good he put it into the skillet and patted it down, and when it was baked nice and brown on both sides it was as good a Johnnie cake as you ever tasted.

He laughed to himself a minute and then he slipped down stairs again and set the table. He put on the bowl of gravy in the centre and cut the Johnnie cake in three pieces. Then he called out as loud as he could:--

"Come to dinner!"

The 'Possum jumped straight up in bed and then lay down again quick, for he thought the Crow was playing a joke on him, which he was, though not the kind he thought. The 'Coon jumped, too, and then went to rocking again, for he thought the same thing. So Mr. Crow opened the 'Possum's door quick and the 'Coon's door quick and let the smell of the nice chicken gravy go right up into their rooms. Then he laughed out loud and called again:--

"Come to dinner while it's hot!"

And down they came, for they couldn't stand that smell. But when they saw the Johnnie cake they thought it was a joke again, for they had never seen any before and didn't know what it was like.

"Dip in and try," said the Crow, and he broke off a piece of his cake and dipped it in the bowl of gravy and began to eat it. So then the 'Possum broke off a piece of his Johnnie cake and dipped it in the gravy and began to eat it, and the 'Coon broke off a piece of his Johnnie cake and dipped it in the gravy and began to eat, too. And then the Crow dipped again, and the 'Possum dipped again, and the 'Coon dipped again.

"It's good," said the 'Possum.

"Yes, it's good," said the 'Coon. "Where did you get it?"

But the Crow did not tell them, and so they dipped and ate, and dipped and ate, until they dipped and ate it all up.

"Drop in again to-morrow," said the Crow when they were done.

So the next day they came again, and the next day they came again, and every day after that they came, until the storm was over and the snow was 'most gone, and Mr. Crow never did tell them the secret of it until once when he wanted to ask a great favor of Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum, but that is too long to tell about to-night.

The Story Teller looked down at the Little Lady.

She was sound asleep.

A JOKE ALL AROUND

ABOUT HOLLOW TREE PEOPLE AND THEIR WAYS

"You may tell me some more about the 'Coon and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow," said the Little Lady, settling herself comfortably and indicating by the motion of her body that she wanted the Story Teller to rock. "They lived in three big hollow limbs of a big hollow tree, you know, and used to meet together sometimes in their parlor and talk."

Why, yes, of course. The Story Teller did know this colony, and hurriedly tried to recall some one of their many adventures. Out of the mists of that long ago time when all animals and men spoke one language and mingled more or less sociably together came presently a dim memory that cleared and brightened as it came, and took form at last in something which the Story Teller told to the Little Lady as

MR. 'COON'S BAD COLD.

One day, early in March and during a long wet spell, the 'Coon caught a bad cold. The next morning he stayed in bed, and pulled up the covers and was cross and too sick to go out. This made extra work for the Crow and the 'Possum, who, of course, had to bring him in his meals and take care of him, and Mr. 'Coon, who found how nice it was to be waited on, thought he would take his own time about getting well. He was sick so long that by and by it set Mr. Crow to thinking, and one day, all of a sudden, he was taken ill, too, and coughed and took on, and called across to the others that he was sick and couldn't come out, either.

This made still more work for the 'Possum, who now had to catch game for three, besides waiting on sick folks and taking care of their houses. So by and by Mr. 'Possum got to thinking some, as well as the others, and one morning, while the Crow and the 'Coon were lying all snug in bed and laughing to themselves at the trick they were playing, and thinking of the nice breakfast they were to have, they heard all at once the 'Possum calling out that hard work and exposure had been too much for him, and that he was sicker now than both of them put together.

Of course they had to call back to him that they were sorry, and of course they were sorry in one way, and then each of them lay down to see which would be the first to starve out.

Mr. 'Possum had a little the best of it at first, because he had brought in enough the night before to last him for a few meals, but, being very greedy, he soon ate it all up, and before long was just as hungry as either the 'Coon or the Crow, and maybe hungrier.

Every day they all grew emptier and emptier. Sometimes Mr. Crow would get up and slip to the door to see if the 'Possum or the 'Coon was not starting out for food. Sometimes Mr. 'Possum would peep out to see if the 'Coon and the Crow were not going. Sometimes Mr. 'Coon would look out to see if the Crow and the 'Possum hadn't started. Once they all saw each other, and jumped back like a flash.

That night Mr. 'Possum decided that he couldn't stand it any longer. He was so thin that his skin hung on him like a bag, and he hardly had strength enough to curl his tail. So he made a plan to slip through the parlor down stairs, and out the door at the bottom of the tree to find a good supper just for himself. A little after dark, when he thought the others were asleep, he got up softly and dressed himself and took his shoes in his hand.

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