INK

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 590, 16 February 1929, Page 29

INK

A SCHOOLROOM STORY "Jenny’s in trouble again ' said Alfred Inkpot, gloomily. “What for?” asked Percy Penknife, flying open with surprise. "Oh, the usual thing. Blots and smudges, and untidy writing.” "But why does she do it?” "I don’t know. She does not seem to be able to help it, .and neither can we, but it happens all the same. Then her teacher blames her, and she blames us. It’s very sad ...” "She’s says I splutter” put in Peter Pen indignantly. "She says mine is such messy ink,” sighed Alfred Inkpot. "Oh, well, never mind,” said Bernard Blotting Paper, comfortably, in his soft voice. “She’ll be seven to-morrow, I dare say she’ll do better then.” "But the point is,” said Percy Penknife, “if she doesn’t improve—what’s to be done?” *‘Can’t do anything,” said Alfred Inkpot, mournfully. “If only we could find out why—” began Peter Pen, when suddenly Percy Penknife; who was the sharpest of them all, interrupted him by crying out: "I know! I know! Perhaps there’s an imp in the inkpot!” “A what?” shrieked Alfred Inkpot, horrified. “An imp,” answered Percy. “They often get into inkpots, especially school ones, and they cause no end of trouble. Here—let me have a look. I’ll soon dig him out if he’s there.” Peter Pen and Bernard Blotting Paper gathered round eagerly, while Percy Penknife dipped his sharp nose into the ink. “Ah-ha!” he cried. “Here you are! I thought so! Come out, you Imp, you!” Out of the ink scrambled a little black Imp, crying: “Don’t! Don’t! You’re pricking me.” "Then keep out of the ink,” said Percy, sharply. "Why should I?” asked the Imp, cheekily. "Why?” cried Peter Pen, “why indeed! Because you spoil everything. You do nothing but make blots ana smudges.” "But it’s such fun,” chuckled the Imp. “Woosh!” and he sent a shower of black drops from his little pointed shoe all over the desk. “That’ll do, that’ll do,” said Bernard Blotting Paper, mopping them up. "What are you doing in my ink, anyhow?” said Alfred Inkpot. “You don’t belong here.” "Yes, I do,” shouted the Imp. “I have lived here ever since Jenny gave up using slates, and started to write in copybooks.” "Well, you’ll have to go somewhere else now,” said Peter Pen. "We can’t have you here —you’re a nuisance.” "It isn’t fair!” whimpered the Imp. Just then a Sun Elf came dancing into the schoolroom on a beam of sunshine. "Hullo!” ho cried. “What’s the matter here?” Why are you all looking so gloomy,” "They’re turning me out,” complained the Imp. "He’s got into the inkpot,” explained Percy Penknife, "and we won’t have It. He’s always making blots and smudges—” "Well, it’s such a joke,” giggled the Imp. "It’s not a Joke for us,” said Peter Pen, severely, "nor for Jenny.” "It seems to me,” said the Sun Elf, “that we must find another home for this fellow. Somewhere where he can play as many pranks as he likes without getting people into trouble. I tell you what! I’ll go and have a look round, and see what I can find.” "I want to live near Jenny,” shouted the Imp, as the Sun Elf flew off out of the window. “I like her. And I believe she likes me,” he added, “in spite of the blots.” In a few minutes the Sun Elf came darting back into the schoolroom. “I’ve found a place,” he cried. “It's one of Jenny’s birthday presents. I found it on a shelf, waiting for tomorrow. It’s a box with a lot of little square dishes full of bright colours — and a tiny glass for water—” “I know!” cried Peter Penknife. “It’s a paint-box.” “It sounds nice.” said the Imp. “Shall I be able to play with all those colours?” “Rather!” answered Peter Penknife “You can splash about as much as you like with a paint-box—and nobody 6colds.” “Then,” said the Imp, “I’m off!” “Wait a moment,” cried Bernard Blotting Paper, “let me clean you up a little. There —that’s better.” “Come along,” called the Sun Elf, and away they flew to the paint-box, where the Imp settled down and lived happily ever after. “Jenny got nine out of ten for her writing this morning,” whispered Peter Pen, gleefully, next day- “And Teacher says she’s greatly improved.” “And the joke of it is,” chuckled Peroy Penknife, "that Jenny thinks it’s because she’s seven, but we know that It’s because we've got rid of the Imp In the Inkpot.”