“POOF”

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 696, 22 June 1929, Page 31

“POOF”

There was once a little goblin who had. a very bad habit. When people were talking to him, instead of greeting each remark with “My word,” “Fancy that,’* or “Well, I newer,” lie would screw up his face and say most impolitely: “Poof! I don’t believe it!” Soon he became the most unpopular little goblin in Goblin Land, which, of course, was no wonder. All the other goblins called him “Poof,” and he grew so accustomed to it that he quite forgot bis proper name. Well, one day Poof was looking for acorns in the wood, and being rude to everything he saw. “Excuse me,” said a rabbit, “would you mind not playing here? My wife has just swept out our burrow, and you are sending showers of earth down into it.” “Poof,” said the naughty goblin. “I shall play here as long as I like.” Then a squirrel dropped a nut, which Poof immediately pounced on. “That is mine,” said the squirrel. “Poof,” said the goblin. “We shall see about that.” Now, it happened that Grandfather Wind was walking through the wood that daj r . “What is your name?” he asked the goblin. “Poof,” said Poof. “You must not talk to me like that,” said Grandfather Wind, very sternly. “Poof,” said Poof again. Then Grandfather Wind became very angry. He puffed out his cheeks and said “POOF,” in a big voice like capital letters. And he blew the little goblin right out of the wood. He blew him up into the sky and tumbled him into a big, white, suffocating cloud that felt like cotton wool. Poof felt very frightened. Inch by inch he was slipping, and the sides of the cloud were not strong enough to cling to. All at once the soft mass parted, and he fell to earth, landing, as luck would have it, in his own garden. After that the little goblin mended his ways, and was polite to everyone. So the other goblins stopped calling him “Poof.” In time, no doubt, he will grow used to his new name, which is rather longer than the old one. Now, when he visits the wood to gather acorns, the others all point and say, “Look, there goes Well-I-Never.” —W.S.T. FROM A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD I enjoy reading Happy Town very much indeed, and I was reading it every Saturday before I joined, and I liked it so much that I joined, and now I like it more than ever. —June Cantwell.