And now we come to the stories!

STORIES TO TELL TO CHILDREN

TWO LITTLE RIDDLES IN RHYME[8]

There’s a garden that I ken,
Full of little gentlemen;
Little caps of blue they wear,
And green ribbons, very fair. 

            (Flax.)

From house to house he goes,
A messenger small and slight,
And whether it rains or snows,
He sleeps outside in the night. 

            (The path.)

THE LITTLE YELLOW TULIP

Once there was a little yellow Tulip, and she lived down in a little dark house under the ground.  One day she was sitting there, all by herself, and it was very still.  Suddenly, she heard a little tap, tap, tap, at the door.

“Who is that?” she said.

“It’s the Rain, and I want to come in,” said a soft, sad, little voice.

“No, you can’t come in,” the little Tulip said.

By and by she heard another little tap, tap, tap on the window-pane.

“Who is there?” she said.

The same soft little voice answered, “It’s the Rain, and I want to come in!”

“No, you can’t come in,” said the little Tulip.

Then it was very still for a long time.  At last, there came a little rustling, whispering sound, all round the window:  rustle, whisper, whisper.

“Who is there?” said the little Tulip.

“It’s the Sunshine,” said a little, soft, cheery voice, “and I want to come in!”

“N—­no,” said the little Tulip, “you can’t come in.”  And she sat still again.

Pretty soon she heard the sweet little rustling noise at the keyhole.

“Who is there?” she said.

“It’s the Sunshine,” said the cheery little voice, “and I want to come in, I want to come in!”

“No, no,” said the little Tulip, “you cannot come in.”

By and by, as she sat so still, she heard tap, tap, tap, and rustle, whisper, rustle, up and down the window-pane, and on the door and at the keyhole.

“Who is there?” she said.

“It’s the Rain and the Sun, the Rain and the Sun,” said two little voices, together, “and we want to come in!  We want to come in!  We want to come in!”

“Dear, dear!” said the little Tulip, “if there are two of you, I s’pose I shall have to let you in.”

So she opened the door a little wee crack, and in they came.  And one took one of her little hands, and the other took her other little hand, and they ran, ran, ran with her right up to the top of the ground.  Then they said,—­

“Poke your head through!”

So she poked her head through; and she was in the midst of a beautiful garden.  It was early springtime, and few other flowers were to be seen; but she had the birds to sing to her and the sun to shine upon her pretty yellow head.  She was so pleased, too, when the children exclaimed with pleasure that now they knew that the beautiful spring had come!