Bangs Mollie and the Unwiseman

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-3-95864-944-6
Verlag: OTB eBook publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 230 Seiten

Reihe: Classics To Go

Excerpt:" Mollie had been romping in the hay all the afternoon. With her were Flaxilocks, the French doll, and young Whistlebinkie, the rubber boy, who had got his name from the fact that he had a whistle set in the top of his beaver hat. Flaxilocks and Whistlebinkie could stand a great deal of romping, and so also could Mollie, but, on the whole, the little girl was not so strong as the dolls were, and...."

Autoren/Hrsg.

Bangs, John Kendrick

Leseproben

Bopeep. In which Mollie Meets the Unwiseman

had been romping in the hay all the afternoon. With her were Flaxilocks, the French doll, and young Whistlebinkie, the rubber boy, who had got his name from the fact that he had a whistle set in the top of his beaver hat. Flaxilocks and Whistlebinkie could stand a great deal of romping, and so also could Mollie, but, on the whole, the little girl was not so strong as the dolls were, and in consequence along above five o'clock, having settled herself down comfortably on the shaded side of the hay-stack, a great pillow of sweet-scented clover grass under her head, it is not to be wondered at that Mollie should begin to ponder. Now it is a curious thing, but Mollie always has singular adventures when she ponders. Things happen to her then which happen at no other times, and which also, as far as I have been able to find out, never happen to other little girls. It was this way upon this particular afternoon, as you will see when you read on. She had been pondering for three or four minutes when almost directly at her side she heard a sob. "Who's that?" she asked, sleepily, gazing around her. "Who's what?" said Flaxilocks, sitting up and opening her great blue eyes so suddenly that something inside of her head seemed to click. "Somebody's sobbing," said Mollie. "Somebody's sobbing," said Mollie. "I guess not," returned Flaxilocks. "We are all alone here. Nobody could have sobbed unless it was Whistlebinkie. Whistlebinkie, did you sob?" "No," said Whistlebinkie, "'twasn't me. I can't sob because I haven't got a sobber to sob with. I've only got a whistle." "Maybe I dreamed it," said Mollie, apparently satisfied for the moment, and then the three threw themselves back on the hay once more and began their pondering anew. They did not ponder very long, however, for in a few moments Flaxilocks rose up again and observed: "I heard a sob myself just now, Mollie." "So-di," whistled Whistlebinkie, through the top of his hat. "Whistlebinkie," said Mollie, severely, "how often must I tell you not to talk through your hat, but through your mouth? So-di doesn't mean anything. It isn't English. If you will only remember to use your hat to whistle through and your mouth for conversation every one will be able to understand. What do you mean by So-di?" "So—did—I," said Whistlebinkie, meekly, this time using his mouth as Mollie had instructed him to do. "Then you heard the sob?" "Yes—ma'am—plain—as—can—be," returned Whistlebinkie. "And no wonder," observed Flaxilocks, pointing one of her kid fingers off to her left. "Why shouldn't we all hear a sob when there is a poor little maid weeping so near at hand?" "So there is," said Mollie, looking toward the spot at which Flaxilocks was pointing, where there sat a pretty little shepherdess with tears streaming down her cheeks. "Isn't it queer?" "Very," said Whistlebinkie. "Shall I give a whistle of surprise, ma'am?" "No," said Mollie. "I'm not surprised enough for that." Then she got up and walked over to the strange little girl's side, and taking her hand in hers asked her softly why she wept. "I'm little Bopeep," said the stranger. "And I've lost my sheep, and I don't know where to find them." "Oh, is that all?" asked Mollie. "Isn't it enough?" returned Bopeep, gazing with surprise at Mollie through her tears. "They were all spring lambs and I'm very much afraid some hungry man may have stolen them away and drowned them in the mint sauce pond." "Dear me, how dreadful!" cried Mollie. "Shall I give a whistle of terror, ma'am?" asked Whistlebinkie. "No, don't," said Flaxilocks. "Save your breath. We ought to help Bopeep to find her flock." "That's so," said Mollie. "Would you like to have us do that, Bopeep?" "Oh, it would be very sweet of you if you would," sobbed the little shepherdess. "I can't tell you how glad I'd be." "I'll whistle it for you." "I'll whistle it for you if you want me to," said the obliging Whistlebinkie, which, as no one objected, he immediately proceeded to do. When he had finished Bopeep thanked him, and asked him if he were any relation to her old friend Flutiboy who was the only person she knew who could whistle as charmingly as he, which pleased Whistlebinkie very much because he had heard of the famous Flutiboy, and was well aware that he was the champion whistler of the world. "Now let us be off to find the sheep," said Mollie. "Which way did they go, Bopeep?" "They went every way," said Bopeep, her eyes filling with tears again. "I don't see how that could be," said Flaxilocks, "unless one quarter of lamb went one way, and another another, and so on." "Oh, it was easy enough for them," said Bopeep. "There were four of them, and one went north, one south, one east, and one west. If they had all run off together I could have run away with them, but as it was all I could do was stand still and let them go. I love them all equally, and since I couldn't favor any special one, or divide myself up into four parts, I had to let them go." "Perflyawfle," whistled Whistlebinkie through his hat. "Whistlebinkie!" cried Mollie, reprovingly. "Puf-fick-ly or-full," said Whistlebinkie distinctly through his little red rubber teeth. "Well, I say we keep together in looking for them, anyhow," said Flaxilocks. "Because it's bad enough to lose the sheep without losing ourselves, and it seems to me there being four of us we can find the first sheep four times as quickly if we stick together as we could if we went alone; and that of course means that we'll find the four sheep sixteen times as quickly as we would if we went alone." "I don't quite see that," said Bopeep. "It's plain enough," observed Flaxilocks. "Four times four is sixteen." "Oh, yes," said Bopeep. "I see." "Sodwi," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I mean so—do—I," he added quickly, as he noted Mollie's frown. So the four little folk started off in search of the missing sheep, Whistlebinkie and Flaxilocks running on ahead, and Mollie and Bopeep with their arms lovingly about each other bringing up in the rear. "Did you ever lose the sheep before, Bopeep?" asked Mollie, after they had walked a little way in silence. "Oh my, yes," returned Bopeep. "I'm losing them all the time. It is a part of my duty to lose them. If I didn't, you know, the nursery rhyme couldn't go on." "And you always find them again?" Mollie put in. "Always. That's got to happen, too. If they didn't come back and bring their tails behind them the nursery rhyme would be spoiled again." "Then I don't see why you feel so badly about it," said Mollie. "And I only get five cents a quart." "I have to," replied Bopeep. "That's part of my business, too. I sometimes wish old Mother Goose hadn't employed me to look after the sheep at all, because it keeps me crying all the time, and I don't find crying very pleasant. Why, do you know, I have been in this sheep-losing business for nearly two hundred years now, and I've cried about seventy gallons of tears every year. Just think of that. That means fourteen thousand gallons of tears, and I only get five cents a quart, which doesn't more than pay my dressmaker's bills. I asked my employers some years ago to let me have an assistant to do the crying for me, but they wouldn't do it, which I think was very mean, don't you?" "Yes, I do," said Mollie. "I should think just losing the sheep was hard enough work for a little girl like you to attend to." "That's what I think—but dear me, where are Whistlebinkie and Flaxilocks going?" said Bopeep. "They mustn't go that way. The first place we must go to is the home of the Unwiseman." "The what?" demanded Mollie. "The Unwiseman. He's an unwiseman who doesn't know anything," explained Bopeep. "The rules require that we go to him first and ask him if he knows where the sheep are. He'll say he doesn't know, and then we'll go on to the little old woman who lives under the hill. She'll know where they are, but she'll tell us wrong. Hi! Whistlebinkie and Flaxilocks! Turn off to the left, and stop at that little red house under the oak tree." "There isn't any little red house under the oak tree," said Mollie. "Oh, yes, there is," said Bopeep. "Only you've got to know it's there before you can see it. The Unwiseman lives there." Sat in the doorway trying to smoke a pipe filled with soapsuds. Whistlebinkie and Flaxilocks did as they were told, and, sure enough, in a minute there appeared a little red house under the oak tree just as Bopeep had said. Mollie was delighted, it was such a dainty little house, with its funny gables and a roof made of strawberry icing. The window-panes were shining like silver, and if Bopeep was not mistaken were made of sugar. But funnier still was the Unwiseman himself, a queer-looking, wrinkled-up little old man who sat in the doorway trying to smoke a pipe filled with soapsuds. "Good-afternoon, O Unwiseman," said Bopeep. "Hoh!" sneered the Unwiseman. "Good-afternoon! This isn't afternoon. It's day before yesterday morning." Mollie giggled. ...