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Today we'll be continuing Little Men by Luisa May Alcott chapter Three Sunday The Moment the bell rang next morning, Nat flew out of bed and dressed himself with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he found on the chair.

They were not new, being half worn garments of one of the well to do boys, but Mrs.

Bear kept all such cast off feathers for the picked robins who strayed into her nest.

They were hardly on when Tommy appeared in a high state of clean collar and escorted Nat down to breakfast.

The sun was shining into the dining room on the well spread table, and the flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it.

Nat observed that they were much more orderly than they had been the night before.

And everyone stood silently behind his chair while little Rob, standing beside his father at the head of the table, folded, his hands reverently bent.

His curly head and softly repeated a short grace in the devout German fashion which Mr.

Bear loved and taught his little son to honor.

Then they all sat down to enjoy the Sunday morning breakfast of coffee, steak and baked potatoes, instead of the bread and milk fare with which they usually satisfied their young appetites.

There was much pleasant talk while the knives and forks rattled briskly.

For certain Sunday lessons were to be learned.

Sunday blocks settled and plans for the week discussed.

As he listened nat thought it seemed as if this day must be a very pleasant one, for he loved quiet, and there was a cheerful sort of hush over everything.

That pleased him very much, because, in spite of his rough life, the boy possessed the sensitive nerves which belonged to a music loving nature.

Now, my lads, get your morning jobs done and let me find you ready for church when the bus comes round.

Said Father Bear, and set the example.

By going into the schoolroom to get.

Books ready for the morrow.

Everyone scattered to his or her task, for each had some little daily duty and was expected to perform it faithfully.

Some brought wood and water, brushed the steps, or ran errands for Mrs.

Bear.

Others fed the pet animals and did chores about the barn with fronds.

Daisy washed the cups and Demi wiped them, for the twins liked to work together, and Demi had been taught to.

Make himself useful in the little house.

At home, even baby Teddy had his small job to do and trotted to and fro, putting napkins away and pushing chairs into their places.

For half an hour the lads buzzed about like a hive of bees.

Then the bus drove round.

Father Bear and Franz with the eight older boys, piled in, and away they went for a three mile drive to church in town.

Because of the troublesome cough, nat preferred to stay at home with the four small boys and spent a happy morning in Mrs.

Bear's room, listening to the story she read them, learning the hymns she taught them, and then quietly employing himself pasting pictures into an old ledger.

This is my Sunday closet, she said, showing him shelves filled with picture books, paint boxes, architectural blocks, little diaries and materials for letter writing.

I want my boys to love Sunday, to find it a peaceful, pleasant day.

When they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures and learn in simple ways lessons more important than any taught in school.

Do you understand me?

She asked, watching Nat's attentive face.

You mean to be good, he said.

After hesitating a minute.

Yes, to be good and to love to be good.

It is hard work sometimes, I know very well, but we all help one another, and so we get on.

This is one of the ways in.

Which I try to help my boys.

And she took down a thick book which seemed half full of writing, and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.

Why, that's my name.

Cried Nat, looking both surprised and interested.

Yes, I have a page for each boy.

I keep a little account of how he gets on through the week, and Sunday night I show him the record.

If it is bad, I am sorry and disappointed.

If it is good, I am glad and proud.

But whichever it is, the boys know I want to help them and they.

Try to do their best.

For love of me and Father Bear.

I should think they would, said Nat, catching a glimpse of Tommy's name opposite his own and wondering what was written under it.

Mrs Bear saw his eye on the words and shook her head, saying as she turned to leave, no, I don't show my records to any but the one to whom each belongs.

I call this my conscience Book, and only you and I will ever know what is to be written on the page below your name.

Whether you'll be pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday depends on yourself.

I think.

It will be a good report.

At any rate, I shall try to.

Make things easy for you in this new place and shall be quite contented if you keep our few rules.

Live happily with the boys and learn something.

I'll try, ma'am.

And Nut's thin face flushed up with the earnestness of his desire to make Mrs Bear glad and proud, not sorry and disappointed.

It must be a great deal of.

Trouble to write about so many, he added as she shut her book with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Not to me, for I really don't know which I like best, writing or.

Boys, she said, laughing to see Nat stare with astonishment at the last item.

Yes, I know many people think boys.

Are a nuisance, but that is because they don't understand them.

I do, and I never saw the.

Boy yet whom I could not get on capitally with after I had once.

Found the soft spot in his heart.

Bless me, I couldn't get on at all without my flock of dear, noisy.

Naughty, harem, scaram little lads, could I?

My teddy.

Mrs Bear hugged the young rogue just.

In time to save the big ink.

Stand from going into his pocket.

Nat, who had never heard anything like this before, really did not know whether Mother Bear was a trifle crazy or the most delightful woman he had ever met.

He rather inclined to the latter opinion, in spite of her peculiar tastes, for she had a way of filling up a fellow's plate before he asked, of laughing at his jokes, gently tweaking him by the ear, or clapping him on the shoulder.

That Nat found very engaging.

Now, I think you would like to.

Go into the schoolroom and practice some.

Of the hymns we are to sing.

Tonight, she said, rightly guessing the thing of all others that he wanted to do alone with the beloved violin and the music book propped up before him in the sunny window while spring beauty filled the world outside and Sabbath'silence reigned within.

Nat enjoyed an hour or two of genuine happiness, learning the sweet old tunes and forgetting the hard past and the cheerful present.

When the churchgoers came back and dinner was over, everyone read, wrote letters home, set their Sunday lessons, or talked quietly to one another sitting here and there about the house.

00, the entire family turned out to walk, for all the active young bodies must have exercise, and in these walks the active young minds were taught to see and love the providence of God in the beautiful miracles which nature was working before their eyes.

Mr.

Bear always went with them, and in his simple fatherly way found for.

His flock sermons and stones, books in the running brooks, and good in everything.

Mrs.

Bear, with Daisy and her own two boys, drove into town to pay the weekly visit to Grandma, which was busy Mother Bear's one holiday and greatest pleasure.

Nat was not strong enough for the long walk and asked to stay at home with Tommy, who kindly offered to do the honors of Plumfield.

You've seen the house, so come out and have a look at the garden and the barn.

And the menagerie, said Tommy, when they.

Were left alone with Asia, to see that they didn't get into mischief.

For though Tommy was one of the best meaning boys who ever adorned knickerbockers, accidents of the most direful nature were always happening to him.

No one could exactly tell how.

What is your menagerie?

Asked Nat as they trotted along the.

Drive that encircled the house.

We all have pets, you see, and we keep them in the corn barn and call it the menagerie.

Here you are.

Isn't my guinea pig a beauty?

And Tommy proudly presented one of the ugliest specimens of that pleasing animal that Nat ever saw.

I know a boy with a dozen of them, and he said he'd give me one, only I hadn't any place to keep it, so I couldn't have it.

It was white with black spots, a regular rouser, and maybe I could get it for you, if you'd like it.

Said Nat, feeling it would be a delicate return for Tommy's attentions.

I'd like it ever so much, and I'll give you this one.

And they can live together if they don't fight.

Those white mice are robs.

Franz gave them to him.

The rabbits are Neds, and the bantams outside are stuffies.

That box thing is Demi's turtle tank, only he hasn't begun to get them yet.

Last year he had 62 whackers some of them.

He stamped one of them with his name in the year and let it go, and he says maybe he'll find it ever so long after and know it.

He read about a turtle being found that had a mark on it that showed it must be hundreds of years old.

Demi's such a funny chap.

What's in this box?

Asked Nat, stopping before a large deep one half full of earth.

Oh, that's Jack Ford's worm shop.

He digs heaps of them and keeps them here, and when we want any to go fishing with, we buy some of him.

It saves lots of trouble, only it charged too much for him.

Why last time we traded I had to pay two cent a dozen and then got little ones.

Jack's mean sometimes, and I told him I'd dig for myself if he didn't lower his prices.

Now I own two hens, those gray ones with the top knots.

First rate ones they are too.

And I sell Mrs.

Bear the eggs, but I never ask her more than twenty five cents a dozen.

Never.

I'd be ashamed to do it, cried Tommy, with a glance of scorn at the worm shop.

Who owns the dogs?

Asked Nat, much interested in these commercial transactions and feeling that T bangs was a man whom it would be a privilege and a pleasure to patronize.

The big dog is Emile's.

His name is Christopher Columbus.

Mrs.

Bear named him because she likes to say Christopher Columbus and no one minds it if she means the dog.

Answered Tommy in the tone of a showman displaying his menagerie.

The white pup is Rob's and the yellow one is Teddy's.

A man was going to drown them in our pond and PA Bear wouldn't let him.

They do well enough for the little chaps.

I don't think much of them myself.

Their names are Castor and Pollock's.

I'd like Toby the donkey best if I could have anything.

It's so nice to ride, and he's.

So little and good, said Nat, remembering the weary tramps he had taken on his own tired feet.

Mr.

Lori sent him out to Mrs.

Bear so she shouldn't carry Teddy on her back when we go to walk.

We're all fond of Toby, and he's a first rate donkey, sir.

Those pigeons belong to the whole lot of us.

We each have our pet one and go shares in all the little ones as they come along.

Squabs are great fun.

There ain't any now, but you can go up and take a look at the old fellows while I see if Cockletop and Granny have laid any eggs.

Nat climbed up a ladder, put his head through a trap door and took a long look at the pretty doves, billing and cooing in their spacious loft some on their nests, some bustling in and out and some sitting at their doors while many went flying from the sunny housetop to the strawstroun farmyard where six sleek cows were placidly ruminating.

Everybody's got something but me.

I wish I had a dove or a hen or even a turtle all.

My own, thought Nat, feeling very poor as he saw the interesting treasures of the other boys.

How do you get these things?

He asked when he joined Tommy in the barn.

We find them or buy them or folks give them to us.

My father sends me mine, but as soon as I get egg money enough, I'm going to buy a pair of ducks.

There's a nice little pond behind the barn and people pay well for duck eggs and the little duckies are pretty and it's fun to see them swim.

Said Tommy, with the air of a millionaire.

Nat sighed, for he had neither father nor money, nothing in the wide world but an old empty pocketbook and the skill that lay in his ten fingertips.

Tommy seemed to understand the question and.

The sigh which followed his answer, for after a moment of deep thought, he suddenly broke out.

Look here, I'll tell you what I'll do.

If you will hunt eggs for me, I hate it.

I'll give you one egg out of every dozen you keep account, and when you've had twelve, Mother Bear will give you $0.25 for them, and then you can buy what you like.

Don't you see I'll do it?

What a kind feller you are, Tommy.

Cried Nat, quite dazzled by this brilliant offer.

Pooh, that is not anything.

You begin now and rummage to the barn, and I'll wait here for you.

Granny is cackling, so you're sure to find one somewhere.

And Tommy threw himself down on the hay with a luxurious sense of having.

Made a good bargain and done a friendly thing.

Nat joyfully began his search and went.

Rustling from loft to loft, till he.

Found two fine eggs, one hidden under a beam, and the other in an old peck measure which Mrs.

Cockletop had appropriated.

You may have one and I'll have the other.

Now, we'll just make up my last dozen, and tomorrow we'll start fresh here.

You chalk your accounts up near mine.

And then we'll be all straight, said Tommy, showing a row of mysterious figures on the side of an old winnowing machine.

With a delightful sense of importance, the.

Proud possessor of One Egg opened his.

Account with his friend, who laughingly wrote above the figures these imposing words tea bangs and co.

Poor Nat found them so fascinating that he was with difficulty persuaded to go and deposit his first piece of portable property in Asia's storeroom.

Then they went on again, and having made the acquaintance of the two horses, six cows, three pigs, and one Alderny.

Bossy, as calves are called in New.

England, tommy took Nat to a certain old willow tree that overhung a noisy little brook from the fence.

It was an easy scramble into a wide niche between the three big branches, which had been cut off to send.

Out from year to year a crowd.

Of slender twigs till a green canopy rustled overhead.

Here little seats had been fixed, and a hollow place, a closet made big enough to hold a book or two, a dismantled boat and several half finished whistles.

This is Demi's in my private place.

We made it, and nobody can come up unless we let them.

Except Daisy.

We don't mind her, said Tommy, as.

Nat looked with delight from the babbling.

Brown water below to the green arch above, where bees were making a musical murmur as they feasted on the long yellow blossoms that filled the air with sweetness.

Oh, it's just beautiful, cried Nat.

I do hope you'll let me up sometimes.

I never saw such a nice place in all my life.

I'd like to be a bird and live here always.

It is pretty nice you can come if Demi don't mind.

And I guess he won't, because he said last night that he liked you.

Did he?

And that smiled with pleasure, for Demi's.

Regard seemed to be valued by all.

The boys, partly because he was Father Bear's nephew, and partly because he was such a sober, conscientious little fellow.

Yes, Demi likes quiet chaps, and I guess he and you will get on if you care about reading as he does.

Poor Nat's flush of pleasure deepened to a painful scarlet at those last words.

And he stammered out I can't read very well.

I never had any time.

I was always fiddling round, you know.

I don't love it myself, but I can do it well enough when I.

Want to, said Tommy, after a surprised look which said his plainliest words a boy, twelve years old and can't read.

I can read music anyway, added Nat, rather ruffled at having to confess his ignorance.

I can't.

And Tommy spoke in a respectful tone, which emboldened Nat to say firmly I.

Mean to study real hard and learn.

Everything I can, for I never had a chance before.

Does Mr.

Bear give hard lessons?

No, he isn't a bit cross.

He sort of explains and gives you a boost over the hard places.

Some folks don't.

My other master didn't.

If we missed a word, didn't we get raps on the head?

And Tommy rubbed his own pate as if it tingled.

Yet with the liberal supply of raps, the memory of which was the only.

Thing he brought away after a year.

With his other master.

I think I could read this, said.

Nat, who had been examining the books.

Read a bit, then I'll help you.

Resumed Tommy with a patronizing air.

So Nat did his best and floundered.

Through a page with may friendly boosts from Tommy, who told him he would soon go it as well as anybody.

Then they sat and talked boy fashion about all sorts of things, among others gardening.

For Nat, looking down from his perch.

Asked what was planted in the many.

Little patches lying below them on the.

Other side of the brook.

These are our farms, said Tommy.

We each have our own patch and raise what we like in it.

Only have to choose different things and can't change till the crop is in and we must keep it in order all summer.

What are you going to raise this year?

Well, I catalated to have beans, as they're about the easiest crop a goin.

Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had pushed back his hat, put his.

Hands in his pockets and drawled out.

His words an unconscious imitation of Silas, the man who managed the place for Mr.

Bear.

Come you needn't laugh.

Beans are ever so much easier than corn or potatoes.

I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother, and the old things wouldn't get ripe before the frost, so I didn't have but one good.

Water and two little mushmelons, said Tommy, relapsing into a silosism with the last word.

Corn looks pretty growing, said Nat politely.

To atone for his laugh.

Yes, but you have to hoe it over and over again now six weeks.

Beans only have to be done once or so, and they get ripe soon.

I'm going to try them, for I spoke first.

Stuffy wanted them, but he's got to take peas.

They only have to be picked, and he ought to do it.

He eats such a lot.

I wonder if I shall have a.

Garden, said Nat, thinking that even cornhowing must be pleasant work.

Of course you will, said a voice from below.

And there was Mr.

Bear, returned from his walk and come to find them.

For he managed to have a little talk with every one of the lads.

Sometime during the day, and found that.

These chats gave them a good start.

For the coming week.

Sympathy is a sweet thing, and it worked wonders here, for each boy knew that Father Bear was interested in him, and some were readier to open their hearts to him than to a woman, especially the older ones, who liked to talk over their hopes and plans man to man.

When sick or in trouble, they instinctively turned to Mrs.

Jo while the little ones made her their mother confessor on all occasions.

In descending from their nest, Tommy fell into the brook.

Being used to it, he calmly picked.

Himself out and retired to the house to be dried.

This left Nat to Mr.

Bear, which was just what he wished, and during the stroll they took among the garden plots, he won the lad's heart by.

Giving him a little farm and discussing.

Crops with him as gravely as if the food for the family depended on the harvest.

From this pleasant topic they went to others, and Nat had many new and.

Helpful thoughts put into a mind that.

Received them as gratefully as the thirsty earth had received the warm spring rain.

All supper time he brooded over them, often fixing his eyes on Mr.

Bear with an inquiring look.

Nat seemed to say, I like that.

Do it again, sir.

I don't know whether the man understood the child's mute language or not, but when the boys were all gathered together in Mrs.

Bear's parlor for the Sunday evening talk, he chose a subject which might have been suggested by the walk in the garden.

As he looked about him, nat thought.

It seemed more like a great family.

Than a school, for the lads were sitting in a wide half circle round the fire, some on chairs, some on the rug.

Daisy and Demi.

On the knees of Uncle Fritz and.

Rob Snugly stowed away in the back.

Of his mother's easy chair where he could nod unseen if the talk got beyond his depth.

Everyone looked quite comfortable and listened attentively for the long walk, made rest agreeable.

And every boy there knew that he.

Would be called upon for his views.

He kept his wits awake to be ready with an answer.

Once upon a time, began Mr Bear.

In the dear old fashioned way.

There was a great and wise gardener who had the largest garden ever seen.

A wonderful and lovely place it was, and he watched over it with the greatest skill and care and raised all manner of excellent and useful things.

But weeds would grow even in this fine garden.

Often the ground was bad and the good seeds sown in it would not spring up.

He had many undergardeners to help him.

Some did their duty and earned the rich wages he gave them, but others neglected their parts and let him run to waste, which displeased him very much.

But he was very patient, and for thousands and thousands of years he worked and waited for his great harvest.

He must have been pretty old, said.

Demi, who was looking straight into Uncle Fritz's face as if to catch every word.

Hush, Demi.

It's a fairy story, whispered Daisy.

No, I think it's an arigory, said Demi.

What is an arigory?

Called out Tommy, who was of an inquiring turn.

Tell him, Demi, if you can.

And don't use words unless you're quite.

Sure you know what they mean, said Mr Bear.

I do know.

Grandpa told me.

A fable is an arrogory.

It's a story that means something.

My story without an end is one, because the child in it means a soul, don't it, Auntie?

Cried Demi, eager to prove himself right.

That's it, dear.

And Uncle's story is an allegory, I'm.

Quite sure, so listen and see what it means, returned Mrs Joe, who always took part in whatever was going on and enjoyed it as much as any boy among them.

Demi composed himself, and Mr Bear went on in his best English, for he.

Had improved much in the last five.

Years and said the boys did it.

This great gardener gave a dozen or so of little plots to one of his servants and told him to do his best and see what he could raise.

Now, this servant was not rich, nor wise, nor very good, but he wanted to help, because the gardener had been very kind to him in many ways.

So he gladly took the little plots and fell to work.

They were all sorts of shapes and sizes, and some were very good soil, some rather stony, and all of them needed much care, for in the rich soil the weeds grew fast, and in the poor soil there were many stones.

What was growing in them besides the weeds and stones?

Asked Nat, so interested he forgot his shyness and spoke before them all.

Flowers, said Mr.

Bear, with a kind look.

Even the roughest, most neglected little bed had a bit of heart's ease or a sprig of minionette in it.

One had roses, sweet peas and daisies in it.

Here he pinched the plump cheek of.

The little girl leaning on his arm.

Another had all sorts of curious plants in it bride pebbles, a vine that went climbing up like jack's beanstalk, and many good seeds just beginning to sprout.

For you see, this bed had been taken fine care of by a wise old man who had worked in gardens of this sort all his life.

At this part of the arigory, Demi put his head on one side like an inquisitive bird and fixed his bright eye on his uncle's face as if he suspected something and was on the watch.

But Mr.

Bear looked perfectly innocent and went on glancing from one young face to another with a grave wistful look that said much to his wife who.

Knew how earnestly he desired to do.

His duty in these little garden plots.

As I tell you, some of these beds were easy to cultivate.

That means to take care of Daisy, and others were very hard.

There was one particularly sunshiny little bed that might have been full of fruits and vegetables as well as flowers, only it wouldn't take any pains.

And when the man sewed well, we'll say melons in this bed.

They came to nothing because a little bed neglected them.

The man was sorry and kept on trying, though every time the cop failed, all the bed said was, I forgot.

Here a general laugh broke out and.

Everyone looked at Tommy, who had pricked up his ears at the word melons and hung down his head at the.

Sound of his favorite excuse.

I knew he meant us, cried Demi, clapping his hands.

You are the man and we are the little gardeners, aren't we, Uncle Fritz?

You've guessed it.

Now, each of you tell me what crop I shall try to sow in you this spring so that next autumn I may get a good harvest out.

Of my twelve, no, 13 plots, said Mr.

Bear, nodding at Nat as he corrected himself.

You can't sow corn and beans and peas in us unless you mean we're to eat a great minion.

Get fat, said stuffy with a sudden.

Brightening of his round, dull face as the pleasing idea occurred to him.

Ye don't mean that kind of seeds.

He means things to make us good.

And the weeds are false.

Cried Demi, who usually took the lead in these talks because he was used.

To this sort of thing and liked it very much.

Yes, each of you think what you need most and tell me, and I will help you to grow it.

Only you must do your best, or you will turn out like Tommy's Melons.

All leaves and no fruit.

I'll.

Begin with the oldest and ask the mother what she will have in her plot, for we are all parts of the beautiful garden, and may have rich harvests for our master if we love.

Him enough, said Father Bear.

I shall devote the whole of my plot to the largest crop of patience I can get.

For that is what I need most.

Said Mrs Jo, soberly that the lads.

Fell to thinking in good earnest what.

They should say when their turns came, and some among them felt a twinge of remorse that they had helped to use up Mother Bear's stock of patience so fast.

Franz wanted perseverance.

Tommy Steadiness Ned went in for good temper, Daisy for industry, demi for as much wiseness as Grandpa, and Nat timidly said he wanted so many things he would let Mr.

Bear choose for him.

The others chose much the same things, and patience, good temper, and generosity seemed the favorite crops.

One boy wished to like to get.

Up early, but did not know what.

Name to give that sort of seed.

And poor Stuffy sighed out, I wish I loved my lessons as much as I do my dinner, but I can't.

We will plant self denial and hoe it and water it and make it grow so well that next Christmas no one will get ill by eating too much dinner.

If you exercise your mind, George, it will get hungry just as your body does.

And you will love books almost as.

Much as my philosopher here, said Mr.

Bear, adding, as he stroked the hair off Demi's fine forehead.

You are greedy also, my son, and you like to stuff your little mind full of fairy tales and fancies, as well as George likes to fill his little stomach with cake and candy.

Both are bad, and I want you to try something better.

Arithmetic is not half so pleasant as Arabian Nights, I know, but it is a very useful thing, and now is the time to learn it, else you'll be ashamed and sorry by and by.

But Harry and Lucy and Frank are not fairy books, and they are full of barometers and bricks and chewing horses and useful things, and I'm fond of them, ain't I, Daisy?

Said Demi, anxious to defend himself.

So they are.

But I find you reading Roland and Maybird a great deal oftener than Harry and Lucy, and I think you are not half so fond of Frank as you are of sinbad.

Come, I shall make a little bargain with you both.

George shall eat but three times a day, and you shall read but one storybook a week, and I will give you the new cricket ground, only you.

Must promise to play in it, said Uncle Fritz in his persuasive way, for stuffy hated to run about, and Demi was always reading in play hours.

But we don't like crooked, said Demi.

Perhaps not now, but you will when you know it besides, you do not like to be generous, and the other boys want to play, and you can give them the new ground if you choose.

This was taken them both on the right side, and they agreed to the bargain, to the great satisfaction of the rest.

There was a little more talk about the gardens, and then they all sang together.

The band delighted Nat, for Mrs.

Bear played the piano, Franz the flute, Mr.

Bear a bass violin, and he himself the violin.

A very simple little concert, but all seemed to enjoy it.

And old Asia, sitting in the corner, joined at times with the sweetest voice of any for in this family, master and servant, old and young, black and white, shared in the Sunday song, which went up to the father of them all.

After this they each shook hands with Father Bear.

Mother bear kissed them.

Everyone from 16 year old Fronds to.

Little Rob Howe kept the tip of.

Her nose for his own particular kisses.

And then they trooped up to bed.

The light of the shaded lamp that.

Burned in the nursery shone softly on.

A picture hanging at the foot of Nat's bed.

There were several others on the walls, but the boy thought there must be something peculiar about this one, for it had a graceful frame of moss and cones about it, and on a little bracket underneath stood a vase of wildflowers freshly gathered from the spring woods.

It was the most beautiful picture of them all, and Nat lay looking at it dimly, feeling what it meant and wishing he knew all about it.

That's my picture, said a little voice in the room.

Nat popped up his head, and there was Demi in his nightgown, pausing on his way back from Aunt Joe's chamber whether he had gone to get a cot for a cut finger.

What is he doing to the children?

Asked Nat.

That is Christ, the Good Man, and he is blessing the children.

Don't you know about him?

Said Demi, wondering.

Not much, but I'd like to.

He looks so kind, answered Nat, whose chief knowledge of the Good man consisted in hearing his name taken in vain.

I know all about it, and I like it very much.

Because it is true, said Demi.

Who told you?

My grandpa.

He knows everything and tells the best.

Stories in the world.

I used to play with his big books and make bridges and railroads and.

Houses when I was a little boy, began Demi.

How old are you now?

Asked Nat respectfully.

Most ten.

You know a lot of things, don't you?

Yes.

You see, my head is pretty big, and Grandpa says it will take a.

Good deal to fill it.

So I keep putting pieces of wisdom into it as fast as I can.

Returned Demi in his quaint way.

Nat laughed and then said soberly, tell on please.

And Demi gladly told on, without pause.

Or punctuation, I found a very pretty book one day and wanted to play with it, but Grandpa said I mustn't and showed me the pictures and told me about them.

And I liked the stories very much all about Joseph and his bad brothers and the frogs that came up out.

Of the sea and dear little Moses.

In the water and ever so many more lovely ones.

But I liked about the good man.

Best of all and Grandpa told it.

To me so many times that I learned it by heart.

And he gave me this picture so I shouldn't forget.

And it was put up here once when I was sick and I left.

It for the other sick boys to see.

What makes him bless the children?

Asked Nat, who found something very attractive in the chief figure of the group.

Because he loved them.

Are they poor children?

Asked Nat wistfully.

Yes, I think so.

You see, some haven't got hardly any clothes on and the mothers don't look like rich ladies.

He liked poor people and was very good to them.

He made them well and helped them and told rich people they must not be cross to them and they loved him dearly.

Dearly.

Cried Demi with enthusiasm.

Was he rich?

Oh, no, he was born in a barn and was so poor he hadn't any house to live in when he grew up and nothing to eat sometimes but what people gave him.

And he went round preaching to everybody and trying to make them good till the bad men killed him.

What for?

And Nat sat up in his bed to look and listen.

So interested was he in this man.

Who cared for the poor so much.

I'll tell you all about it.

Aunt Joe won't mind.

And Demi settled himself on the opposite bed, glad to tell his favorite story to so good a listener.

NURSEY peeped in to see if Nat was asleep.

But when she saw what was going on, she slipped away again and went to Mrs.

Bear saying with her kind face full of motherly emotion, will the.

Dear lady come and see a pretty sight?

It's Nat listening with all his heart.

To Demi telling the story of the.

Christ child like a little white angel as he is.

Mrs.

Bear had meant to go and talk with Nat a moment before he slept for she had found that a serious word spoken at this time often did much good.

But when she stole to the nursery door and saw Nat eagerly drinking in the words of his little friends while Demi told the sweet and solemn story as it had been taught him, speaking.

Softly as he sat with his beautiful.

Eyes fixed on the tender face above them, her own filled with tears.

And she went silently away, thinking to herself, demi is unconsciously helping the poor.

Boy better than I can.

I will not spoil it by a single word.

The murmur of the childish voice went on for a long time, as one innocent heart preached the great sermon to another and no one hushed it.

When it ceased at last and Mrs.

Bear went to take away the lamp, Demi was gone and Nat fast asleep, lying with his face toward the picture as if he had already learned to love the good man who loved little children and was a faithful friend to the poor.

The boy's face was very placid, and.

As she looked at it, she felt.

That if a single day of care and kindness had done so much, a year of patient cultivation would surely bring a grateful harvest from this neglected garden, which was already sown with the best of all seed by the little missionary in the nightgown.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time books today while we read a.

Bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlisle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of little men.

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