”Now what do you suppose it was, mama?” questioned Johnny, when he had ended.
For a moment his mother appeared deep in thought and did not answer. Presently, however, a little twinkle came into her eyes, and Johnny knew that she hed “supposed.”
”Johnny, where did you put your presents?” she asked.
“On the bureau. Why?”—as his mother stepped toward the bureau. For answer she held up the two green marbles which had been baby Dorothy’s gift to him, For a moment Johnny did not comprehend; but, when he did, such peals of uglier arose that sister Nell came rushing down the stairs to see what was the matter. Of course Nell told all Johnny’s schoolmates of his scare, and they never ceased to tease him about those marbles.
“A Heading for December.” by S. F. McNeill, age 14.
A BRAVE COWARD.
By Ethel Pickard (page 15).
A lonely boy stood watching a crowd of bathers who were swimming in the water on a warm summer day. Suddenly a boy called out, “Why don’t you come too, Charlie?”
"Oh, I don’t wish to swim to-day,” he answered, whereupon some of the swimmers gave a loud laugh, and one said: “You ’re a coward, Charlie.” The boy turned away, stung by their taunts. He could not deny it, for he was greatly afraid of water, and never had the courage to enter it. Two of the girl bathers were the daughters of a wealthy English general who had recently distinguished himself in the Boer War. Charlie greatly admired the girls, who had traveled extensively in Europe but were now boarding at his home. The girls, however, who had seen much of soldier life, derided him as a coward, and teased him continually.
That night Charlie, who had been studying at a late hour, fell asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by a loud report, and opened his eyes to find his room filled with smoke. Opening the door, he was greatly alarmed to find the hall filled with flames. Running to the window, he was about to jump when be suddenly remembered the English girls. Their room was in a wing of the House, and all their means of escape cut off. Putting his coat over his head, he resolutely opened his door and, almost choked with smoke, at last reached the girls’ room. Their door was open, and they were lying on the threshold, overcome with smoke. Hastily picking one up, he again ran the gantlet of flames. He threw the girl out of the window into willing hands below, and returned for her sister. Many minutes elapsed before he came again to his window. His head had been cut open by a falling rafter, and his hair and clothes were burning in spots. Hurriedly throwing the girl out of the window, he then jumped himself, and that was the last he remembered for many days; for, although the girls were unhurt, yet Charlie was badly injured, and remained in the hospital many weeks.
The English government, hearing of his brave deed, sent him a paper thanking him to which Queen Victoria’s name was signed, and that is now his most treasured possession.
“My playmates.” by John D. Butler, age 14.
League Notes and Letters.
A number of League members have written to say that they would like to correspond with other young people of the. For a time we published these requests, but our space is so limited and the requests became so numerous that we have been obliged to omit this interesting feature.
Requests still come for a competition in musical competition. This also we are obliged to forgo, for want of space. To publish even a very short score would require a half-page of St. Nicholas, and most musical contributions would need much more room.
The following League members will exchange stamps and souvenir post-cards: Zayda R. Williams, Box 611, Geneva, Ohio, Sidney Robinson, 240 River Ave., Ft. Rouge, Winnipeg, Can,, Lois, Williams, 921 Carrollton Ave., New Orleans, La., and Bernice Marks, Box 346, Lake Placid, N.Y.
Contributors should consider the League audience as well as the subjects given. Thousands of St. Nicholas readers enjoy the League departnent, even when they are not contributor, and if we can furnish entertainment for this audience we are making a long step toward success, the larger field of art.
My dear St. Nicholas: I wish to thank you for the gold badge which I received
I think that the badge itself is very beautiful, but to, me that which it represents—the hard work, the long time of waiting, and now the honor—is more than the badge itself.
I am very much interested in the League, and can truly say that you are one of my best friends.
I love to read the stories in the magazine, and like especially well most of the continued stories and the long stories complete in one number.
Wishing you success in the future. I remain,
Mary Salmon.
