A Little World for Little People

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 980, 24 May 1930, Page 31

A Little World for Little People

FRIENDSHIP’ IS A STEADY LIGHT SHINING IN DARK PLACES

OUT OF SEASON THEY will be quite safe with me,” said the Little Thought, gazing shining-eyed at a large bouquet of violets and fern that had just arrived for the Dawn Lady. “Your kind little friends must have picked them before sunrise because they are still sparkling with dew. If you leave them here under the Happiness tree I shall mount guard over them until you come back.” ‘T shall not be away very long,” answered the Dawn Lady. “I just want to show three of the Pixie Postmen a poem a Sunbeam lias written about them. It’s about the tallest Pixie Postman,|the middle-sized one and the smallest. She has called them ‘Thistledown,’ ‘Cobweb’ and ‘Mustard Seed.’ and I am sure they will be delighted with their new names.” “I do hope the in-between ones won’t mind,” observed the Little Thought, anxiously. “I an sure they won’t,” laughed the Dawn Lady. “You see, so many messages have been arriving for them lately that -they feel quite the most important people in Happy Town. Now, take great care of those violets, and when I come back I shall give you some for your pressed flower garden.” “And a wee piece of fern, too,” bargained the Little Thought. “Why,” exclaimed the Dawn Lady ten minutes later, “you’re ft nice sort of soldier to fall asleep at your post! And what is this note peeping out from the violets? Why, Doctor Spring Sunshine has called on you in an invisible cloak, and there you were fast asleep!” “Where, where?” stammered the Little Thought, rubbing his eyes. “I couldn’t help it! I didn’t know! Tell me what happened! Are yon sure? What does the note say?” “Well, it’s in the form of a poem, but Doctor Spring Sunshine usually writes notes like that, doesn’t he? It says:— Sometimes before the Winter days begin , When Autumn leaves lie golden on the grass, Softly I steal your garden gates within And leave these fragrant tokens as I pass. Violets, no less, like jewels in the rain; A dream of rarer days than these to bring That l may find remembered haunts again When Winter's hood reveals the face of Spring. “Why, where arc you go- " Down Tiptoe Street to —ftx^Lu find him,” answered the Little /.\Jj r'-J Thought, flying oft' on urgent / ’ *