ARITHMETIC LAND

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 182, 22 October 1927, Page 27 (Supplement)

ARITHMETIC LAND

Edna said good-night to her Teddy and went off to bed, but she couldn t get to sleep anyhow. The harder she tried the wider awake she grew. Suddenly she remembered how nurse had told her to count sheep, so she closed her eyes and thought of a big field full of fat, woolly sheep with long tails. Then they began jumping over the gate. A _ "One, two, three ” she counted. Just as she got to forty-three—she saw the strangest little old man coming across the field. tie came to where Edna was, still counting, counting, and counting. “Hallo, Edna!” he said in a squeaky little voice. This was very surprising. How in the name of Wonderland did he know her name? “I beg your pardon,” said Edna politely. “I am afraid I don’t know you.” “Not know me! Bless my soul, of course you do! Everybody does. I’ve just come from the Land of Nod. Just over there,” lie added, jerking his thumb toward some soft, fleecy clouds sitting on the tree-tops. “You have wandered into Arithmetic Land.” “What is your name?’’ asked Edna. “I haven’t a name,” confessed the little old man. “I did have one once, but I lost it in Sleepy Lane. Someone found it and gave it to a cloud baby for his middle name. I have never been able to get it back. It is most unfortunate, but everyone knows me, so perhaps it doesn’t really matter. What are you doing here? Can’t you get to sleep?” “No,” said Edna. “And how many sheep have you counted?” “Ninety-eight.” “Well now, I don’t mind telling you the way I use, but first you must let me cut off one of those pretty curls” —Out of his pocket came a pair of shining scissors—“ Snip-snap.” “It’s the very best one,” said Edna, ruefully. “I always take the best of everything,” said the little man. “Now, watch. I shall round up the sheep and make them jump the gate. All you have to do is to count them backwards, starting from the number you were up to. Ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, and so on.” Edna started counting, but when she reached seventy-two she began to grow very worried and perplexed. “I have never been taught to count this way,” she said, peevishly, “and anyway you have hundreds of sheep there, and I can only count back to one.” “Go on counting,” said the little man, sternly. “I won’t!” said Edna . . . “Wake up, dear; it’s seven o’clock,” broke in a voice. “Good gracious, child, who has been cutting your hair?”