The Silent Readers: Sixth Reader. Albert Lindsay Rowland
dominoes with my old nurse, and I slept with the box under my pillow.
"Ah!" said my father one day when he found me arranging the ivory pieces in the parlor, "do you like that better than all your playthings?"
"Oh, yes, father!"
"You would be very sorry if mother were to throw that box out of the window and break it, for fun." I looked pleadingly at my father, and made no answer. "But perhaps you would be very glad," he went on, "if suddenly one of those good fairies you read of could change the domino box into a beautiful geranium in a lovely blue-and-white flower-pot. Then you could have the pleasure of putting it on mother's window-sill."
"Indeed I would," said I, half crying.
"My dear boy, I believe you; but good wishes do not mend bad actions; good actions mend bad actions." So saying he shut the door and went out.
"My boy," said he the next day, "I am going to walk to town; will you come? And, by the by, fetch your domino box; I should like to show it to a person there."
"Father," said I by the way, "there are no fairies now how then can my domino box be changed into a geranium in a blue-and-white flower-pot?"
"My dear," said my father, leaning his hand on my shoulder, "everybody who is in earnest to be good, carries two fairies about with him—one here," and he touched my forehead, "and one there," and he touched my heart.
"I don't understand, father."
"I can wait until you do, my son."
My father stopped at a nursery-gardener's, and after looking over the flowers, paused before a large geranium. "Ah, this is finer than that which your mother was so fond of. What is the price of this, sir?"
"Only seven and six pence," said the gardener. My father buttoned up his pocket.
"I can't afford it to-day," said he gently, and we walked out.
III
On entering the town we stopped again at a china warehouse. "Have you a flower-pot like that I bought some months ago? Ah, here is one, marked three and six pence. Yes, that is the price. Well, when mother's birthday comes again, we must buy her another. That is some months to wait. And we can wait, my boy. For truth, that blooms all the year round, is better than a poor geranium; and a word that is never broken is better than a piece of delft."
My head, which had been drooping before, rose again; but the rush of joy at my heart almost stifled me. "I have called to pay your bill," said my father, entering a shop.
"And, by the by," he added, "my boy can show you a beautiful domino box." I produced my treasure, and the shopman praised it highly. "It is always well, my boy, to know what a thing is worth, in case one wishes to part with it. If my son gets tired of his plaything, what will you give him for it?"
My Father Stopped at a Nursery-Gardener's
"Why, sir," said the shopman; "I think we could give eighteen shillings for it."
"Eighteen shillings!" said my father; "you would give that? Well, my boy, whenever you do grow tired of your box, you have my leave to sell it."
My father paid his bill, and went out. I lingered behind a few moments, and joined him at the end of the street.
"Father, father!" I cried, clapping my hands, "we can buy the geranium; we can buy the flower-pot!" And I pulled a handful of silver from my pocket.
"Did I not say right?" said my father. "You have found the two fairies!"
Ah, how proud, how overjoyed I was, when after placing vase and flower on the window-sill, I plucked my mother by the gown, and made her follow me to the spot.
"It is his doing and his money!" said my father; "good actions have mended the bad."
—From "The Caxtons", by Bulwer-Lytton.
1. What did the boy do when he "lingered behind a few moments"?
2. If you were to act out this story, you would have to imagine yourself in several places. Make a list of them in the right order.
3. What do you think "seven-and-sixpence" means? How much money do you think the boy had left when he had paid for the flower-pot?
4. What do you think the two fairies were?
5. This selection is divided into three parts, each headed with a Roman numeral. Write a heading or topic for each part.
SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON
Here is the story of the greatest deed of the patron, or guardian, saint of England. As you read the story, try to remember how the young men of England, France, and America showed themselves worthy followers of this brave, noble knight.
Long ago, when the knights lived in the land, there was one knight whose name was Sir George. He was not only braver than all the rest, but he was so noble, kind, and good that the people came to call him Saint George.
No robbers ever dared to trouble the people who lived near his castle, and all the wild animals were killed or driven away, so the little children could play even in the woods without being afraid.
One day St. George rode throughout the country. Everywhere he saw the men busy at their work in the fields, the women singing at work in their homes, and the little children shouting at their play.
"These people are all safe and happy; they need me no more," said St. George. "But somewhere perhaps there is trouble and fear. There may be some place where little children cannot play in safety; some woman may have been carried away from her home; perhaps there are even dragons left to be slain. Tomorrow I shall ride away and never stop until I find work which only a knight can do."
Early the next morning St. George put on his helmet and all his shining armor, and fastened his sword at his side. Then he mounted his great black horse and rode out from his castle gate. Down the steep, rough road he went, sitting straight and tall, and looking brave and strong as a knight should look. On through the little village at the foot of the hill and out across the country he rode. Everywhere he saw rich fields filled with waving grain; everywhere there was peace and plenty.
He rode on and on until at last he came into a part of the country he had never seen before. He noticed that there were no men working in the fields. The houses which he passed stood silent and empty. The grass along the roadside was scorched as if a fire had passed over it. A field of wheat was all trampled and burned.
St. George drew up his horse, and looked carefully about him. Everywhere there was silence and desolation. "What can be the dreadful thing which has driven all the people from their homes? I must find out, and give them help if I can," he said. But there was no one to ask, so St. George rode forward until at last, far in the distance, he saw the walls of a city. "Here surely I shall find some one who can tell me the cause of all this," he said, so he rode more swiftly toward the city.
Just then the great gate opened and St. George saw crowds of people standing inside the wall. Some of them were weeping; all of them seemed afraid. As St. George watched, he saw a beautiful maiden dressed in white, with a girdle of scarlet about her waist, pass through the gate alone. The gate clanged shut, and the maiden walked along the road, weeping bitterly. She did not see St. George, who was riding quickly towards her.
"Maiden, why do you weep?" he asked as he reached her side.
She looked up at St. George sitting there on his horse, so straight and tall and beautiful. "Oh, Sir Knight!" she cried, "ride quickly from this place. You know not the danger you are in!"
"Danger!" said St. George; "do you think a knight would flee from danger?