Aunt Roberta's Family

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLV, Issue 121, 24 April 1925, Page 9

Aunt Roberta's Family

“AUNT ROBERTA’S” LETTER

Dearest Children, — You all know what sacred significance attaches to the 25th April. Some of you were not horn when "Anzac Day’ 1 was made immortal by tho deeds of t-iio New Zealand and Australian soldiers. Yet many of you will remeinoer. though dimly perhaps, that dreadful and weary time of war. Anzac is a word that signifies mingled grief and glory, and wo must never, never forget the brave Anzacs. They were heroes who fell that tho fame they won might live forever. “Anzac Day, 1925,” was written by a girl of 15 years —a young friend of mine. I know you will all like it, for it is indeed a little gem. Her name is Iris — and she thinks very uncommon thoughts for a child of 15.

What do you think of tho design for our badge? 1 wish to thank all those who have sent in suggestions lor competitions, and thus endeavoured to help me. Even if I am unable to make use of all the suggestions received, 1 appreciate the kind thoughts that prompted tho senders to submit them. Anything in the sewing line, recipes, how to mako dolls’ houses, etc., I could not utilise, because such ideas would be too cumbersome to put into practice with “Aunt Roberta s Family,” for “my children” are very scattered and live in different parts of New Zealand. We want to keep Our Corner “literary.” With much love. From — AUNT ROBERTA.

BADGE FOR “AUNT ROBERTA’S FAMILY.”

Tho original is a trifle smaller than tho above. The outside rim is royal blue; the inner circle is gilded, with the letters “A.K.F.” (in monogram) slightly raised. The pin is also gilded. Anyone who would like to have a badge should post Is (in stamps) to “Aunt Roberta,” c/o “Manawatu Evening Standard,” Palmerston North.

“LITTLE BOO.” CHAPTER, 11. “CURIOSITY KILLED A CAT.” When Joun had asked Little 800 what she was looking at, and she had replied : “Oh nuthin’,” it was a perfectly truthful answer. The child was in a brown study. Since her birthday party she had often pondered" about the mystery concern* ing Mr Maddock’s house. Shu was certain she had seen her friend at the end of the long hall, and when she ran towards him, calling his name, lie had mysteriously disappeared. During ttie intervening three weeks she had remained silent on the subject, her reason being that, thero was no ono in whom she could confide, without fear oj being chided and called inquisitive All the same, her young mind thought profoundly about the secret, and 800 was determined, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, to “’vestigateas sho callOn her way home from school that afternoon she dropped in at the lonely bungalow on the hill. She found Mrs Morrison very busy preserving fruit After chattering with her for awhile, Little 800 said goodbye —and went home. The child recognized that, with Mrs Morrison engaged in the kitchen and Mr M;tu* dock away, tiere was a chance to satisfy her curiosity that might never,occur again.

She hesitated to seize it, however, because she was afraid of what Mr Maddock might do if he ever discovered that she had been prying into tilings that really did not concern her small self, for 800 was very fond of him. Yet, like all womankind, sho was possessed with the spirit of curiosity, and in tho present instance it was causing her exceeding discomfort. When her sister, Joan, returned from school, she was prompted to tell her about it, and ask if she would join in the search lor the unknown. But it happened that liie two had quarrelled that morning over the possession of a doll, which in the first place had belonged to Joan, and she had passed on to Little 800. By the intercession of Aunt Roberta, Little 800 had won the . day—and Joan had sulked, and would not speak to her. She appeared to have forgotten their tiff that evening—but Little 800 was wary, and did not wish to give her sister the chance of snubbing her; so sho kept her tongue quiet. A minute or two after Joan went indoors, 800 suddenly decided to risk all. Perhaps if she discovered something very wonderful she would not he scolded, but praised, and become quite a heroine. It is very easy sometimes to talk Mr Conscience round. "Of course, you are doing the right tiling,” he whispered to Little 800 at that moment. “It is only in the interests of others —not through mere idle curiosity—that you are going to try and solve the mystery. 1 am sure Aunt Roberta would call you a brave girl, if she knew.” So Little 800 took to her heels and ran back up the hill to "The Bungalow. 1 ’anting with her exertion of climbing the incline so quickly, she slipped into the house through a side door, and stealthily crept along the thickly carpeted hall. All was very quiet, and sho felt quite safe from any interruption by Mrs Morrison, as tho back premises were in tile opposite direction. Brown chenille curtains were hung along the wall where tho long hall ended a smaller passage branching to tho right and the left. These, curtains produced an artistic and striking effect. It was at this spot that Little 800 had seen Mr Maddock disappear. Ehe was a fearless child ordinarily, but her heart started to beat in a distressing manner, and she went cold all over, as she stood in front of the thick curtains, and tried hard to mako up her mind to draw them aside and see what they might hide. With an effort of will, she overcome this feeling of cowardice and parted the two curtains. She was deeply disappointed, for there was nothing but bare wall. 800 moved from one foot to the other, her face puckered up in a frown. Perhaps, after all, Mr Maddock was a ghost, for only ghosts could go through walls, she knew that. Then high up her searching eye caught sight of what looked to he a small round mound on tho wall, painted the samo colour.

Holding the curtains aside with one hand, she stood on her tip-toes and reached up nimble lingers high above her head. She felt the protuberance. In tbe middle was a tiny button. The natural thing to do was to press this button, which Little 800 did, exerting all tbe strength of her lingers. She stifled a scream as she felt the wall slowly falling backwards. She had touched the spring of a secret door in tho wall. .

“By Golly 1” she muttered, shivering, her eyes round and staring. Beyond the partly opened door she could see a narrow dark passage. She shrank back, afraid to enter it alone. 800 debated with herself if she should ran homo and get help. Then she decided that it would he very foolish to act in that cowardly fashion.' She would only he scolded, and lose the opportunity of discovering to

“Mary upstairs lias nearly finished the furniture and I’ve done all the boots, and as no have both got our work done so quickly, may we have the afternoon out?’' ~, Prize Drawing—l6th Competitions. By Madeleine Borreson (14 jeai-D, 60 Alexandra Street, Palmerston JS'orth.

where the secret passage led. Little Boo’s spirit of adventure and curiosity combined were stronger than her fears. Timidly she pushed the door wide open, pulling the curtains aside, so that as much light as possible from the hall would strike into the mysterious underground passage. She could see at the far end a fuint glow us if from the setting suns rays. But how could light, shine through earth, she wondered. It was nut possible. Little 800 carefully arranged the curtains across the secret doorway to hide it, and with slow, hesitating steps, a hand groping along the wall, she moved .inward. It was rough under foot, and the surface of the wall was uneven, as if at one time man had carelessly hewn the rock. Tile farther Little 800 went into tut 1 bowels of the earth, the lighter became the passage, which was a very strange thing. At last she stood upon the threshold of what might have been a srnuggleis cave, which hud boon converted into a veritable Fairyland room. The walls ana ceilings of rock were painted a deep shade of mauve. The elaborate furnishings were in white and mauve. Little 800 staled, spellbound with wonder. Then, like a mouse, she stole into the mysterious apartment, looking about her in bewilderment, half afraid. She halted besido a carved white settee, and gently smoothed the rich satin of the three mauve cushions reposing thereon. Then she studied the curious figures carved on the high back; hut she could not make head or tail of them. She got dt>wn on

her knees and rubbed her baud up and down the pile of tho white and mauve curput, revelling in the velvety l'eel of it. Squatting on her heels, quito at home, she looked round at the many pictures displayed on the walls. They w’ero all sizes, and each was in a white or a mauve frame. She was intensely surprised to find that tho pictures were of the one girl—garbed in various dancing dresses and in many different postures. 800 made a close inspection, scrutinising each picture in turn. They were all beautiful, but one in particular took the child’s fancy especially, and she straight way fell in love with the "Dancing Lady,” as sho christened the pictured girl. It showed her exquisite in a short gossamer dross of white. She was poised on the tips of her toes, arms held out gracefully. Her fair, curl-crowned head was half turned, as she smiled roguishly over a wide tulle ruffle encircling her slim throat. Sho looked so alivo that 800 expected any minute to see her step forth from the frame and pirouette round the white and mauve room.

Little 800 stood in front of the picture for many minutes, fascinuted and entranced. Presently she turned away, and went across the room to where shimmering white curtains, with mauve borders, were hung. Through them filtered golden light. Sho touched their shining folds lingeringly, and, peeping behind, discovered there was a large window let in tho wall of rock. Flattening her nose against the pane, she gazed out. Far below a bread expanse of pale gray sea moved peacefully as if half asleep. Where the water appeared to merge into sky a red-gold sun was sinking in fiery splendour. "Gracious! I’m on a cliff!” gasped 800. Her voice sounded so loud and strange in deep silence tliut she glanced rcund timidly. She returned slowly to tho centre of the room, thinking deeply. It was all very strange —hut sho would not have missed such an adventure for unything. Presently, as her small legs were beginning to feel tired, she looked longingly at the settee, but 800 considered it would have been taking a groat liberty to seat one’s person upon such a splendid piece of furniture. She hesitated before a wide, low arm-chair, which was covered iti a white plush material; then, with a shako of the head, she passed on to its mate — gowned in mauve plush. First, she sal upon the extreme edge, but by degrees edged back, until her hand rested against its magnificent hack. 800 felt very comfortable —and so happy ! What would they all say when she told them the tale of her great and wonderful adventure? Little 800 knew she could never keep locked in her own breast such a thrilling secret. It would burn and burn until it got out. Nobody, not even God, could keep such a secret to themselves.

(To be continued.)

TWENTIETH COMPETITIONS.

(Closing Date—Wednesday, 6th May, 1925.) Each envelope and entry must be marked ; “20th Competitions.”

Prize Drawing (by Madeleine Borreson) : Thirteen years and up to 17 years, best limerick on above drawing, Ist prize 4s, second prize 2s; 10 years and up to 15 years, best comic verse (or verses) on above drawing, Ist prize 4s, second prize 2s; under 10 years of age, cut out and colour the above drawing, first prize 4s, second prize 2s. Vowels: Biggest list of words containing the five vowels; 3s.

An extraordinary enigma : I am neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, yet even when full of wine I frequently stand on one leg; if you behead me, 1 stand upon two; and, what is more strange, if you again decapitate me, I stand upon four. If you do not recognise me now, I shall be sure you are a relative of mine.

Punctuation: Punctuate correctly tho three sentences following (3v): For sale a piano the property oi a tady with carved legs: King Charles spoke half an hour after his head was cut off. , That that is is that that is not is not is not that so:

Describe a tragedy in tho smallest number of words (is) : Example only—He tracked down his prey ruthlessly. , Tpu die!” he howled, and his victims liteblood ebbed away. It was a big, tat fiea lie crushed between two thumbs! COMPETITION RULES. Cash prizes will be awarded each week. Boys and girls up to 17 years of age may compete wil[ judged according to quality. Due consideration will bo given to the question of age of the competitor. Marks will be awarded as follow: To tho winner of any competition, and for the one who sends in the best joke, riddle, catch, etc 4 To the boy or girl who gains second

place 2 Highly commended “ Commended A record will bo kept of the marics gained, and at the end oi the year ihe following prizes will bo given: A handsome gold medal to the one who gains the highest number of marks. A silver medal to the one who gains the second highest number of marks. These medals will be in addition to the oash prizes awarded each week of the year. Write in ink on ono side of paper only. Neatness, good writing and punctuation will count. Each entry must be on a separate sheet, with name, age, date of birth, and address underneath it. , All entries must be your own unaided effort, except jokes, riddlee, catches, etc. Drawings must be done in black ink, unless otherwise stated. Address all entries, letters, etc., to—- “ Aunt Roberta,’’ C/of “Manatvatu Evening Standard." Palmerston North. RESULTS OF 16TII COMPETITION'S. (The closing dale of which was the Bth April). Black and white drawing (of any animal) Senior division. Prize (3s) : Madeleine Borreson. 60 Alexandra street, Palmerston North (14 years). Highly commended: Lancelot Boreson, 60 Alexandra street, Palmerston North (16); Aisla Varcoe, <24 Union streist, Palmerston North (15); Myra Kirkpatrick, 261 North road Invercargill (14i); Norman C. Allan, 22 Carroll street, Palmerston North (16i) ; Molly Mitchell, Dunedin (14); Helen Shaw, Slack’s road, Palmerston North (14) ; Hilda Lang, 16 Terrace street, Palmerston North (13); Eula Arthur, 27/ Main street W., Palmerston North (12) ; ilollie Robb. Ruatamwlm (13) ; Phyllis Macdonald, box 29, Havelock N. (15) ; Margaret C. Robson, Kabul street, Wairoa, 11.8. (14); Nancy Hobson la Clyde road, Napier (14); Bessie Cross, box 3, Orepuki (15) ; Alma Chapman, 53 Thames street, Invercargill (13); Winnie Rae, Orepuki (15). Commended: Noeline Barnard, 15 Worcester street, Palmerston North (15); All tie Vantier, Wood street. Palmerston North (15); -May Needham, 238 Church street, Palmerston North; Ethel Birchley, 7 Heretaungu street, Palmerston North (14); Maja Petersen, Hospital road, W’ai- j pukurau (15) ; Dela Cochrane, Racecourse i road, Waipukurau (13); Jean Cochrane i (142) ; Iris 1. Gigg, Delphi street, Watroa, H.ll. (I3i); Jean Monteith, Porongahau road, Waipukurau (13); Alfred C. Stewart, 199 Spey street. Invercargill (12). Black and white of a dog; junior division. Prize (3s): Edgar Littlejohn, 122 Earn street, Invercargill (Hi). Highly commended: Duncan McFarlane, 134 Esk street, Invercargill (10); Grace Taylor, 16 Stanley Avenue, Palmerston North (10). Commended: Jock Harrison, Bunnythorpe (8 vis 11 mos); Ralph Holmes, 8) Knowles street, Pulmerston North (S). j

CONUNDRUM: What animal is it that walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon arid three in the evening? The correct answer is: “Man.” The prize (2s) has been won by— Mollie Robb, Rautaniwha, W aipawa (13 years). Madeleine Borreson (who gams Ist prize for her drawing) also sent in a well written and beautifully neat entry. Three marks have been awarded to her. “TIIE BLUE MOUNTAIN GARDEN.” (Tho Blue Mountains are in Now South Wales, Australia). It was an old-fashioned garden, rich in tall holly hocks, sweet williams, mignonette and flowering verbenas. Through it purled a tiny stream that plunged beneath the fence and went tumbling down a series of cascades to join the Nepean. In the shade of the giant kurrajong tree sat three little girls, their heads nodding over the hooks with which they wore passing away the quiet Sunday afternoon. Suddenly the golden head of Alice dropped and she slipped lightly on to her side, asleep. Then Winifred yawned, carefully adjusted a cushion, and went oil' also, whilst Miidrcd curled herself up into a little ball, soinewhut like a kitten. A rumble of distant- thunder, reverberating among the peaks, roused the children from their si urn bn r to stare, wide-eyed at an ancient dame in a deep sun bonnet, whose- robe of green was covered with little kangaroos of silver grey. In her right hand she held a staff that looked suspiciously !ikj a snake. Her long skirl just rovealed the points of shoes that eecmed to bo of & bronze colour, 'anu tho dame’s face wore an expression of benignity tinged v-ith a ser.se of sardonio wit. Now, children, you have each two minutes to decide what you _ would like most in your future life. Wish worthily, children, for I can give you only one wish each. 1 am the Mother of the Mountains, and you, having been born here, are my "■oil-children. Alice, what have you wished?” “I want to marry a prince from a far land, and become a princess!” said Alice, joyously. “And you, Winifred?” said Uio same.

“I want to live all my life in the most beautiful house in Sydney !” “And you, Mildred?” , f “I want to be the mother of Australian greatest man !” . The dame’s expression of sardonic humour turned to sudden gravity as she bestowed on the trembling little girl a look that was radiant with admiration. Then another reverberation crash of thunder among the hills caused them all to turn their heads, and when they look round again the dame had gone. J hen came the patter of the iirst large drops of the impending thunderstorm among the leaves, and the children :'led inside, discussing whether they had really seen Her or just all dreamed the same dream. When Alice went to the Italian opera in Sydney she fell in love witli the tenor, and later on she met him. lie was a real prince, and he married her, and made her a princess. Unfortunately, princes are just ordinary folk in themselves, and this one was than ordinary; so, though Alice attained her wish and became a princess, she found no happiness in it. Winifred became a housemaid in Government House, where she lived till she died. Mildred stayed at homo and looked after her parents, and when they were old and feeble she married the sweetheart of her youth, and the young couple lived on with the old folk in the Blue Mountain Gurdem Where Mildred and her sisters had played and spoken with the Mother of the Mountains, Mildred's own children now played, three sturdy little brown-limbed boys and one dainty, dimpled, blue-eyed little girl, the darling of them all. Randal built fleets of tiny boats which he sailed over the navigable reaches of the purling stream, and in the tiny bays Ronald built him dockyards and fortified ports of iiard clay from the bottom of the garden, which lie made into miniature monoliths, and burned m a tiny kiln amidst a pile of rocks outside the garden fence. When he had finished the ports and the forts, he set to work and made tiny navigable passages for Randal s ships from one end of the garden to the other. That completed, lie still went on building, and constructed a railroad right across the garden, and Uncle Bill brought him two tov trains, worked with winding up strings, which used to run over the rails the little boy fashioned cut of knitting needles. Reg, the third little brown-limbed boy, dabbled in chemistry. Uncle Bill bought him the books, and the little chap delved into the mysteries of things that made the flowers grow better, and then he began to investigate the mysteries of fireworks, till one night, Mildred and her husband, with little Muriel on her knee, sat and watched Randal’s fleets working in conjunction with Ronald’s railways transporting an army of tiny leaden soldiers right across the garden to meet a great invasion, through a glare of light produced by mysterious powders that Reginald, with I nele Bill s assistance, had evolved in the little shed they called “The Laboratory.’ _ When it was all over, and the tired children had gone to bed, I ncle Bill said softly to Mildred: “My dear, your boys are going to be great men 1” “I hope so, Uncle Bill, she said, and she told him of tho midsummer Sunday dream of the Mountain Motler. The great war was over. The Australian Nation, almost overcomo in the tremendous struggle against the vast Asiatic invasion, had, phoenix-lilce, risen from its ashes, purified by lire, refined by suffering, to carry on the civilisation it had saved at such frightful cost. It dragged the grey-haired, world-weary woman that had onto been the bonny Mildred, from the obscurity of her Blue Mountain Garden, to shower on her all the honour" all the adulation, all tile gratitude of a saved people, that they would have showered on her mighty sons had they been alive; for Randal, the Admiral, had gone down’ in the Arafura Sea with his whole fleet whilst destroying the great army ot reinforcements from Asia that would have ensured the conquest of Australia. Ronald, the master engineer, who had built tho vast system of fortifications that had held up the great invading army till the railway to enable the whole force of Australia to be gathered together in one vast sledge-hammer of National and Racial supreme effort had been completed had died in the last fearful attack, the defeat of which had saved the nation. Reginald, the master chemist who had devised the fearful explosive that destroyed whole armies in one vast aerial conflagration had perished in that last stand, going deliberately to a fearful and fiery death, and taking with him tho power of the in- ' The Australian people built a splendid Cenotaph to those dead heroes iaiid their helpers, and they placed tho Mother of Heroes on the steps of it in the Seat ot Honour, and heaped flowers around her, whilst martial music filled he summer air with melody. At her feet they placed the Gold Crown of Victory, and the army and the people filed before her, tho Mother ot the Mighty Ones, and shouted and eaiig their adoration. When tho long triumph was over, the brown, grey-haired, gaunt woman who Had once been the winsome Mildred, gathered up the gold crown, the choicest of the blossoms, anil was hone swiftly to her garden in the Blue Mountains with her war-shattered husband, the sweetheart of her youth. Together, and alone, they bore tne Crown of Victory and tho choicest of the blooms out beyond the garden, out between the frowning rocks, high above the purling stream, and cast them upon a tiny grave, tho grave of baby Muriel. Then Mildred kissed her war-shattered husband, and said softly :

“It was she, darling, who D*“*ki them lion to die l"

“TIJK DISAGREEAJILE TURNIP.” flue day, while working in the garden near the vegetable lied, 1 heard a. email voice say in very haughty tones, “Carrots, how dure you!’’

Then another voice replied in quite a different tone, “What have I done to offend you, Mr Turnip?” “You are in my bed, and I don’t want you there,” replied tho voice of Mr Turnip. “Well," said Mr Carrot, “that is not my fault. I dare say Mr Southerly Buster or Old Man Westerly blew me over when I was a tiny seed. Anyway, we can do no harm growing up side by; sjde— arc inueh the same—only you are pale while 1 am ruddy, and our figures are different, but we both have long tails with which we burrow down into the ground to get ihe moisture which is so necessary to keep us alive and make us grow. And * the dryer the weather the longer our tails 1 It. isn't everybody that can boast such fine tails, eh, Mr Turnip?” “Indeed, no,” replied Mr Turnip, and I could see his leaves spreading with pride. Mr Carrot went on: “It’s unkind of you to be cross with me for what I cannot help; besides, we shall probably end our days in the same pot of soup, so we might just as well he friends.” . .. "Sorry,” said Mr Turnip; “I will slop to think in future you see, I am very thirsty, just now, and that makes me bedtempered, but I will not be cross'with you again.” Wasn’t that wonderful? I have never heard vegetables talking before, have you? ANZAC DAY, 1925. “They’ll fight for Right or a Grand Mistake As men ne’er fought before.” Perhaps Henry Lawson in his poetic prophecy may have seen the' desperate •struggle which was to take place on that great day—ten years ago now—when a company of Australians and New Zealanders bravely stormed those black cliffs where swift death lay waiting, and won through to write the name “Anzue” on Fate’s book of Fame.

An/ac! it is a name pregnant , with sacred moaning to every New Zealander worthy of being called fellow-countryman lo the men who, in making Anznc, proved that the traditional courage of the British stock from which they sprang had not been lost, in the peaceful sunshine of the fair land so fur away from the great island birth-place of the Empire. On April 25th, then, we celebrate the glory of Australasia as a nation. Oilier nationis have had their great battles —their triumphant victories and their splendid defeats. But this is our battle day—a young nation’s greatest achievement in tho strange experience of war; the day, when, amongst the aged and war-scarred warriors, tho battle flags of older countries, there arose another, youthful and unknown before, but. hallowed now with the glory of proved coinage and the life-blood of a. nation's dead heroes. Australasia had won her 'spurs, though at a heavy cost, and “tho six-starred flag of Anzae —at last old Europe know.”" “ANZACS.” To the Everlasting Memory of Brave Men. We cannot think them dead. They do but rest On some broud bivouac hidden from our sight, ' ' Drawing fresh vigour from their virtues might • ■ From the immortal suns; or on'the crest Of some tall hill, that thrusts its ragged breast - - • Against the stars, they sleep, until the night Of lheir oblivion ends in new-born light, And resonant trumpets find their lines are dressed. We must not deem them dead. The climbing flames Of their renown Love tends with trembling hands; And ul the chanted epic of their names Hope turns her steadfast gaze to those far lands Where they await a Leader's call to rise To noblest duties under deathless skies 1 “OUR MAIL BAG,” - Flora Ilasting-s: Very glad to have you as a member of the happy family. You know tho old saying, “If you don't at first succeed, try, try again.” I wish you all luck. 1 am so pleased to hear that you like Our Corner so much also the

"Little Boo” serial. This is evidently, a favourite.

Madeleine Borreson : I am glad you like the idea of a Badge. You will see that your industry and perseverance has 'been rewarded. 1 cannot let you have your prize drawing back at present, as 1 am reproducing it in this Corner. Drawing from nature would be too hard. Thanks for the suggestion, Madeleine. With hive and best wishes.

Lorna Cleaver: Glad to hear from you, Lorna 1 I am pleased you like Our Corner so much, also tho idea of a badge for members of the family. Edith Woodd: Certainly you may join the liapply family. What a pity you were unable to post in your last entries. However, I hope to see your name on many

more entries to the competitions in future, Verna Wright : That's tho spirit I admire—keep on trying ! 1 have often noticed your entries, but so far they have just missed. Bad luck, Verna! Your suggestion for a competition is a good one. Thanks very much. Marjorie Forrest: So glad to hear from you again. 1 missed your entries —and thought you might be away. What do you iliink of our badge? The competition you mention—to draw “Your idea of Auni Roberta” —was suggested some weeks back by a Palmerston North boy. It rather took my fancy, and i am curious to view the -different conceptions of "Aunt Roberta.” When Ralph gets busy the mystery of my identity may be cleared up—and then you will all bo sorry, perhaps, for no more shall 1 bo a shadowy creature veiled in mystery 1 Much love, Marjorie! Anything mysterious is always in-

teresting. Alf do Vantier: Your drawing was quite in order. It is honourable of you to write and explain. If I can puzzle out the answers to the puzzles you enclose, 1 shall use them, and you will bo quite in order in sending m answers. Short story competition to be marked “16th,” but il anyone puts the incorrect number or ad mils a number altogether they will not be ruled out.

Mona Rodgers: I am always glad to know the views of “my children.” The matter you mention is not one in which 1 have any say. I might explain, however, that advertisements in a paper mean money coming in—and a Children’s page means money going out, except that it helps. to increase tho circulation. Some papers will not. allow any space at all for a Children's Corner. You will see, therefore, that, after all, “Aunt Roberta's family” is privileged.

Grace Taylor: So far 1 have been pleased with all your entries, and am glad to know that, although you now have school lessons to keep you very busy, you intend to continue to send in entries to some of tbe competitions. The “Little Boo' Serial is not half finished yet, so you neixl not fear that it will come to an end soon.

Marie Murphy: lam sorry to disap point you, Marie ! See, my loiter, which will fully explain the matter, I hope. Best wishes. Melva Day : You may send me a shilling for a badge any time now. Beth Scott: I am glad you like the idea of a badge for the members of the family. If you cannot write poetry ’’anJ your stories need thinking about, what about the nuzzles, etc? Best wishes.

Jock Harrison: Sorry I made a mis lake in your Christian name. It is diffi cult to draw persons—but good practice don’t you think so?