Nearly Bedtime Five Short Stories for the Little Ones
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Nearly Bedtime Five Short Stories for the Little Ones - H. Mary Wilson
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nearly Bedtime, by H. Mary Wilson
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Title: Nearly Bedtime
Five Short Stories for the Little Ones
Author: H. Mary Wilson
Release Date: May 31, 2011 [EBook #36293]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEARLY BEDTIME ***
Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
NEARLY BEDTIME.
FIVE SHORT STORIES FOR
THE LITTLE ONES.
BY
H. MARY WILSON,
AUTHOR OF CRIP,
ETC.
PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE
OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
LONDON:
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C.;
43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C.
BRIGHTON: 135, NORTH STREET.
New York: E. &. J. B. YOUNG AND CO.
PREFACE.
y motive in putting together these few short stories is twofold. I wish to help some elder sisters who have, like myself, occasionally found it difficult to keep the little ones happy when sleepiness is beginning to assert its claims—with pride in attendance to scorn any hint of weariness. For this reason the stories are quite short—of different lengths—and the time that they take in reading aloud is noted in the index. But I wish also, if I can, to add a little to the genuine happiness of that pleasant time when big and little people
for a while are equals—before nurse comes to the door and says—
If you please, miss, it is the children's bedtime.
Of course, when the summons does come, they all say Good night
without any grumbling, and run away with bright faces, like my little Maggie, Dora, and Douglas.
Kenley
, 1888.
NEARLY BEDTIME.
GENTLEMAN PHIL.
He is gentil that doth gentil dedes.
—Chaucer.
he birds have been awake, chirping and twittering for more than an hour, and the sun has stolen the first cool freshness from the clear dewdrops, as a pair of small feet come scudding across the lawn and down the gravel path.
Phil is up betimes to-day. He had opened his eyes as he heard cook's heavy, deliberate tread on the stairs—she is stout and old, and he knows her step well—and then he knew that it must be quite early, about half-past five.
Very gaily he tumbled out of his bed, and struggled into his white summer suit.
He grew rather mixed over the buttons. There seemed so many along the top of his small knickerbockers! What could be the use of them all? One was quite enough to hold the things together, and he made up his mind to ask nurse to cut off all the others.
Not now, though! Oh no! He only peeped into her room through the half-open door, with a