its hinges, and put the wood in the wood cellar, and
washed the Hop-about Man's platter and spoon, and set straight all the
chairs and tables, and put the spade in the place where it ought to
be, and he was so tired that he could hardly move another step. But
the Hop-about Man did not notice him at all, and when Wee-Wun cried
out to the little blue shoes:

"See how hard I am working," they were quite silent. And you do not
know how silent blue shoes can be.

The Hop-about Man was falling asleep in his chair when all was
finished, and Wee-Wun again shed tears.

"Oh, Hop-about Man," he cried, "are you never going away?"

And the Hop-about Man replied:

"Certainly I am very comfortable here, with half of this fine house
for my own, and I can only walk away if I have a pair of little blue
shoes to walk in, and I can only go when you have set all careless
things straight."

Poor Wee-Wun! He took the little blue shoes in a hurry, and his tears
were dropping all the time.

"Good-bye, little blue shoes," he said, but the Hop-about Man did not
seem to notice. And when Wee-Wun gave them to him he put them upon his
feet, but he did not stir, not an inch.

Then Wee-Wun sighed a long sigh, and he flew over the Bye-bye Meadow
till he reached the garden of the Stir-about Wife, which is bound
about by a wall. And there all night he weeded, pulling up blue
blow-aways by the score. But when in the morning he went back to his
fine house, the Hop-about Man was gone.

_The Street Musicians_

LIDA MCMURRY

A donkey who had carried sacks to the mill for his master a great many
years became so weak that he could not work for a living any longer.
His master thought that he would get rid of his old servant, that he
might save the cost of his food. The donkey heard of this, and made up
his mind to run away. So he took the road to a great city where he had
often heard the street band play. "For," thought he, "I can make music
as well as they."

He had gone but a little way when he came to a dog stretched out in
the middle of the road and panting for breath, as if tired from
running.

"Why are you panting so, friend?" asked the donkey.

"Oh, dear!" he replied. "Now that I am old and growing weaker and
weaker, and am not able to hunt any more, my master has ordered that I
should be killed. So I have run away, but how I am to earn a living I
am sure I do not know."

"Will you come with me?" said the donkey. "You see, I a