“I’ll help you!” cried the brave turtle.

“Oh, you!” said Flop.  “I thought you were a stone to keep the kitchen door from swinging shut.”

“No, I am a turtle—­a frozen turtle,” said the voice.  “At least I was frozen.  The cold weather made me so slimpsy-slopsy that I couldn’t move, if you will kindly excuse me saying so.  But as soon as I got warmed up in your nice kitchen I became as lively as ever.  I’ll soon fix that dog.  Watch me!”

And all of a sudden the turtle bit that dog on the end of its tail, and the dog ran off howling, and so he didn’t get any of the nice pie, and he didn’t bother Flop, nor Curly and his vaccination, any more, and that night they gave the turtle some hot lemonade so he wouldn’t catch any more cold from having been almost frozen by the frosts.  And as for that dog, why a dentist pulled one of his ears next day.

So you see what Flop thought was a stone turned out to be a frozen turtle who did him a great favor.  And ever after that whenever Mrs. Twistytail made pie the turtle was always in the kitchen to keep the door open, and drive out any bad dogs in case they happened to get in.

And so no more now, if you please, as I am sleepy, and I know you must be, too.  But in case the little girl in Montclair doesn’t drop her doll on the sidewalk, and spill the sawdust all over the stick of molasses candy I’ll tell you next about Curly and the chestnuts.

STORY XI

CURLY AND THE CHESTNUTS

“Why, Curly,” exclaimed the nice old lady owl school teacher one day, when the class in drawing was doing its lesson.  “Why, Curly Twistytail!  I’m certainly surprised at you!”

Of course, all the animal children looked over at the little piggie boy, and at his brother Flop, also; but Flop had done nothing.  And what do you suppose it was that Curly had done?

Why, instead of drawing a picture of a pail of sour milk, as the teacher had told him to do, he had made a picture of a monkey-doodle sitting on top of a Jack o’Lantern pumpkin.  Wasn’t that just awful!  Well, I guess yes, and some tooth brushes besides.

“Oh, Curly, how could you?” asked the owl teacher, in a sorrowful voice.

“I—­I didn’t mean to,” spoke the little piggie boy.  “I—­I guess it just—­happened.”

You see, during the drawing lesson, when the animal children were supposed to make different pictures on their papers, the teacher would fly around the room softly and come up from behind the desks.  Thus, she could look over the animal children’s shoulders and see what they were doing, when they didn’t know it.  It was then that she had seen what Curly, the pig, drew.

“Well, Curly,” went on the owl teacher, sadly, “of course, it was wrong of you to make that kind of a picture, and, though I do not like to do it, I shall have to punish you.  You will have to stay in after school.”