reading, and could no longer be restrained.
“I’m afraid he will forget it if he waits; and I have had a deal of
trouble teaching him,” said his mother.
Teddy trotted to the rostrum, dropped a curtsey and nodded his
head at the same time, as if anxious to suit every one; then, in his
baby voice, and putting the emphasis on the wrong words, he said
his verse all in one breath:
“Little drops of water,
Little drains of sand,
Mate a might okum (ocean),
And a peasant land.
“Little words of kindness,
Pokin evvy day,
Make a home a hebbin,
And hep us on a way.”
Clapping his hands at the end, he made another double salutation,
and then ran to hide his head in his mother’s lap, quite overcome
by the success of his “piece,” for the applause was tremendous.
Dick and Dolly did not write, but were encouraged to observe the
habits of animals and insects, and report what they saw. Dick liked
this, and always had a great deal to say; so, when his name was
called, he marched up, and, looking at the audience with his bright
confiding eyes, told his little story so earnestly that no one smiled
at his crooked body, because the “straight soul” shone through it
beautifully.
“I’ve been watching dragonflies, and I read about them in Dan’s
book, and I’ll try and tell you what I remember. There’s lots of
them flying round on the pond, all blue, with big eyes, and sort of
lace wings, very pretty. I caught one, and looked at him, and I
think he was the handsomest insect I ever saw. They catch littler
creatures than they are to eat, and have a queer kind of hook thing
that folds up when they ain’t hunting. It likes the sunshine, and
dances round all day. Let me see! what else was there to tell about?
Oh, I know! The eggs are laid in the water, and go down to the
bottom, and are hatched in the mud. Little ugly things come out of
’em; I can’t say the name, but they are brown, and keep having new
skins, and getting bigger and bigger. Only think! it takes them two
years to be a dragonfly! Now this is the curiousest part of it, so you
listen tight, for I don’t believe you know it. When it is ready it
knows somehow, and the ugly, grubby thing climbs up out of the
water on a flag or a bulrush, and bursts open its back.”
“Come, I don’t believe that,” said Tommy, who was not an
observant boy, and really thought Dick was “making up.”
“It does burst open its back, don’t it?” and Dick appealed to Mr.
Bhaer, who nodded a very decided affirmative, to the little
speaker’s great satisfaction.
“Well, out comes the dragonfly, all whole, and he sits in the sun
sort of coming alive, you know; and he gets strong, and then he
spreads his pretty wings, and flies away up in the air, and never is
a grub any more. That’s all I know; but I shall watch and try to see
him do it, for I think it’s splendid to turn into a beautiful dragonfly,
don’t you?”
Dick had told his story well, and, when he described the flight of
the new-born insect, had waved his hands, and looked up as if he
saw, and wanted to follow it. Something in his face suggested to
the minds of the elder listeners the thought that some day little
Dick would have his wish, and after years of helplessness and pain
would climb up into the sun some happy day, and, leaving his poor
little body behind him, find a new lovely shape in a fairer world
than this. Mrs. Jo drew him to her side, and said, with a kiss on his
thin cheek,
“That is a sweet little story, dear, and you remembered it
wonderfully well. I shall write and tell your mother all about it;”
and Dick sat on her knee, contentedly smiling at the praise, and
resolving to watch well, and catch the dragonfly in the act of
leaving its old body for the new, and see how he did it. Dolly had a