CHAPTER III.

THE END.

Jane is seated on the ground.  She is in tears.  Her friend Skip has left her.  Her cake has gone too.  Did Skip snatch it away from her?

Yes, he did, without giving her a chance to take a second bite.  And he pushed her down besides.  And he ran away and left her.  Poor little girl!  Ungrateful little dog!

JANE OLIVER.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

THE BROKEN KITE.

It was a splendid great kite, almost as tall as George himself.  It was a birthday-gift from his grandfather.

George had never owned a kite before; and there never was a happier boy than he when he went out to fly it for the first time.

But he came back looking quite sad.

“Why, what is the matter my boy?” said his grandfather.

George held up his kite.  There was a large hole in it.  In trying to raise his kite, the little boy, being perhaps rather clumsy, had got it entangled in a tree.  Its beauty was spoiled, and George had brought it home without having had the pleasure of seeing it up in the sky.

“Well, well,” said his kind old grandfather, “we will have it mended and try it again.  Better luck next time!”

Carlo, the dog, looked up, as much as to say, “If there is anything I can do for you, George, call on me.”

But George’s bright little sister Susan, without saying a word, ran into the house and brought a pot of paste and some paper.  “I’ll mend it for you, George,” said she, “in three minutes.”

And sure enough, she mended it so neatly that it was as good as new the next morning, and George took it out again with a face as merry as ever.  He got it up in fine style this time, and had a grand time flying it.

It went up higher and pulled harder than any kite on the play-ground.  Susan, who often went out with George to have a share of the fun, was hardly strong enough to hold it.

[Illustration]

One day when Susan was trying to wind up the string, the stick slipped out of her hands, and away went the kite.  George got it back after a hard chase, but it was torn to shreds.  Susan now looked sad in her turn.

But George only laughed, and said, “Never mind, Susie.  Bring out the old paste-pot again.”

IDA FAY.

SUMMER GAMES.

Words by GEORGE COOPER.

Music by T. CRAMPTON.

[Illustration:  Music]

1.  “Pretty birds, pretty birds, what do you play,
   Flying about in the leafy spray!”
   “Little maid, little man, can’t you guess? 
   Every one comes in a tidy dress;
   Everyone cheerfully keeps the rule;
   We merry birds are playing school.”

2.  “Butterflies winging from rose to rose,
   What are you playing? there, no one knows.” 
   “Little maid, little man, oh! ’tis fun,
   Roaming and sporting till set of sun: 
   Roses and lilies so white and neat,
   ’Mong these we play at hide and seek.”