Читать книгу Tales from the Storyteller's House - Thornton Waldo Burgess - Страница 8

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The Storyteller went to the door of the Old House and looked out. Then he returned to the fireplace where once more the children were gathered. They were laughing and chatting as they toasted marshmallows and popped corn.

“Who was to bring the story-log to-night?” asked the Storyteller.

“Billy Blake!” cried two or three together.

“I thought so,” replied the Storyteller. “The little scamp is late, and that isn’t a bit like Billy. I wonder where he is. Hello! We have a visitor—a cricket on the hearth. Who knows what noted writer made a cricket on the hearth famous?”

“Dickens!” cried Jean and Rosemary together.

“Right,” replied the Storyteller, “and a beautiful story it is. What is it, Mary?”

“I don’t know that story, but I know a song about a cricket.”

“That’s splendid, Mary,” said the Storyteller. “While we are waiting for Billy you sing it for us. Will you?”

Little Mary hung her head shyly. “I—I—I—can’t sing it,” she stammered. “I—I’ve forgotten the tune. But I can say it,” she added hopefully.

“That will do just as well, my dear,” replied the Storyteller. “Now quiet, everybody! Quiet while Mary recites her poem!”

The chattering and laughing ceased. The cricket continued to chirp and the fire snapped. Mary began.