“Yes,” agreed Jimmie, “it is too bad,” for he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You will have to pay for a new hat for me,” went on his grandfather.

“I haven’t any money,” said Jimmie, and tears began to run down his broad, yellow bill, for the little boy duck felt pretty bad, I can tell you.

“You will have to save up all the pennies you get,” decided Grandfather Goosey-Gander.  “Boys should not be so careless.”

“We thought you were a fox,” said Billie Bushytail.

“And we all threw stones at you,” added Sammie Littletail.

“But I’m the only one who hit your hat, though,” admitted Jimmie.

“Do I look like a fox?” demanded the old duck.  “That’s what I want to know.  Do I look like a fox?” Well, of course, you know he didn’t, and the ball players had to admit it.  “You will have to pay for my hat, Jimmie,” grandpa continued, looking again at two ragged holes.  “Have you any money now?”

“No,” said Jimmie, and he was crying real hard by this time.  Then all the other boys felt badly, too, and they were just looking in their pockets to see if they had any money, but they hadn’t.  All they had was some marbles, and tops, and broken knives, and chewing gum, all sticky, and some strings.

Then it began to look as if Grandfather Goosey-Gander would never have a new hat, but, all at once, there was a buzzing sound in the air, and what should come flying along but a darning needle.  You know what I mean:  one of those funny, long bugs sometimes called a dragon fly, with beautiful wings, and long legs and body.

“What is the trouble?” asked the darning needle, and then the boys told him about the broken hat.  “Ah,” said the darning needle, careless-like, “do not distress yourself, Jimmie.  I know you are a good boy.  To fix that hat is a mere trifle for me, and I’ll do it.”

And what did that dragon-fly-darning-needle do but buzz back and forth, all around the holes in Grandfather Goosey-Gander’s tall hat, right through the hat itself, until he had the holes all sewed up, and you could hardly tell where they were.

Then Mrs. Spider came along, and she spun some glossy silk web over the places where the seams were, and presto-chango! if that hat wasn’t as good as ever!

Well, you can just imagine how glad Jimmie was that he didn’t have to pay for it.  And his grandpa was pleased, too, and so were the boys.  Then the darning needle flew away, Mrs. Spider crawled off, Grandfather Goosey-Gander went to the bank, the boys played ball some more and everything was lovely.

Now, if the window curtain doesn’t fly up lickety-split and come off the roller, I’ll tell you to-morrow night about Jimmie flying a kite.

STORY XXX

JIMMIE WIBBLEWOBBLE’S KITE

Jimmie Wibblewobble was out flying his kite.  He had made it all himself, out of sticks, and paste, and paper and strings, and it was a very fine kite indeed.  It was nearly as large as the little boy duck, and it was the kind of a kite that doesn’t need a tail.  That was good, because a tail gets all tangled up in the weeds.