"I've got that, be quick," said Paul.

"'Oncepon a time there was a--a----'" Muffie looked appealingly at Lynn.

"A fairy?" suggested Lynn.

"A little dog?" said Max who had strolled back.

"Yes, a little dog," said Muffie gratefully.

"Go on, I've got that," said Paul.

"'Oncepon a time there was a little dog and it--it----'"

"Was really a fairy under a enchanting spell?" whispered Lynn.

But Muffie was too sleepy to rise to the occasion. She repeated her
formula once more in the hope of helping herself.

"'Oncepon a time there was a--a dog--and it--it----'"

"Barked?" said Max.

"Yes," said Muffie thankfully. "That's all, Paul--write it big, and it
will make a lot. Le's go and see if tea's ready."

"I haven't lote _my_ book," said Max, and looked ready to cry.

"Don't be so mean, Muffie; sit down and wait," said Pauline. "Come on
Max, darling, Paul will write yours the neatest of all. Now then."

Max thrust his hands into his ridiculous pockets and stood with his legs
well apart. He always told the same class of story though the variations
were several.

"Well," he said slowly, "''was a ittle boy, an' him said to hims mover,
can I go down in the deep foresh all by myself, an' she told him no.
And'"--here Max paused very impressively till he had collected the eyes
of all his audience--"'he went. An' he walked along, an' he walked
along, an' he walked along, an' he met'"--another pause, calculated to
thrill his listeners--"'a snake. An' it clawled light up him an' it ate
him all up. Evly bit of him. Escept hims legs. An' he walked along, an'
he walked along, an' he walked along, an' he met a tiger. An' e tiger
eat 'em up. Evly bit of 'em. Escept hims feet. An' he walked along, an'
he walked along, an' he walked along, an' he met a horsh. An' e horsh
ate 'em all up. Evly bit of 'em. An' nofing was left. Ony hims button.
An' hims mover had no dear ittle boy left', so there."

The unique part of the stories Max told was, he invariably managed to
leave the impression that the moral of the tale was the mother should
not have refused her consent to his going down the dark forest all alone
and that she was the sole sufferer.

Pauline opened and shut her cramped hand half a dozen times.

"Thank goodness they're done," she said. "Give me that piece of paper to
wrap them in, Muffie, and you go and get some string, Lynn, while I
write to him."

For the final destination of the tales had long since been settl