they only came very seldom, "tell us about the rat with
three tails, and the dog that walked on its nose."

"Oh dear, no!" said Mr. Norton, "those won't do for such a grand
story-telling as this. I must think of some story which is all long
words and good children."

"_Don't_ father," said Milly, imploringly, "it's ever so much nicer when
they get into scrapes, you know, and tumble down, and all that."

"Who's to begin?" said Aunt Emma. "I think mother had better begin.
Afterwards it will be your turn, Olly; then father, then Milly, and then
me."

"I don't believe I've got a scrap of a story in my head," said Mrs.
Norton. "It's weeks since I caught one last."

"Then look here, Olly," said Aunt Emma, "I'll tell you what to do. Go up
gently behind mother, and kiss her three times on the top of the head.
That's the way to send the stories in. Mother will soon begin to feel
one fidgeting inside her head after that."

So Olly went gently up behind his mother, climbed on a stool at the back
of her chair, and kissed her softly three times at the back of her head.
Mrs. Norton lay still for a few moments after the kisses, with closed
eyes.

"Ah!" she said at last. "Now I think I've caught one. But it's a very
little one, poor little thing. And yet, strange to say, though it's very
little, it's very old. Now, children, you must be kind to my story. I
caught him first a great many years ago in an old book, but I am afraid
you will hardly care for him as much as I did. Well, once upon a time
there was a great king."

"Was it King Arthur, mother?" interrupted Olly, eagerly.

"Oh no! this king lived in a different country altogether. He lived in a
beautiful hot country over the sea, called Spain."

"Oh, mother! a _hot_ country!" protested Milly, "that's where the rain
goes to."

"Well, Milly, I don't think you know any more about it, except that you
_tell_ the rain to go there. Don't you know by this time that the rain
never does what it's told? Really, very little rain goes to Spain, and
in some parts of the country the people would be very glad indeed if we
could send them some of the rain we don't want at Ravensnest. But now,
you mustn't interrupt me, or I shall forget my story--Well there was
once a king who lived in a _very_ hot part of Spain, where they don't
have much rain, and where it hardly ever snows or freezes. And this king
had a beautiful wife, whom he loved very much. But, unluckily, this
beautiful wife