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Baby Pitcher's Trials Little Pitcher Stories   By:

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[Illustration: Frontispiece. The Funeral, p. 52]






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by CLARK & FISKE, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.


CHAPTER I. How the Little Pitcher made Sunshine, 7

CHAPTER II. Flora Waits for the Sun to Drink up the Water, 19

CHAPTER III. The Story of the Poor Robin, 30

CHAPTER IV. "Going to Have a Funeral," 41

CHAPTER V. Bertie Meets Jack Midnight at the Spring, 53

CHAPTER VI. A Deadly Snare for the Muskrat, 65

CHAPTER VII. Something in the Trap, 76

CHAPTER VIII. Jack Pulls off the Warm Jacket, 84

CHAPTER IX. Flora in Exile, 96

CHAPTER X. Flora Goes to Ride in the Little Blue Cart, 105

CHAPTER XI. She says Good bye to the Soap Man, 114

CHAPTER XII. And Loses her Way, 124

CHAPTER XIII. Charley Swallows the Rooster, 133

CHAPTER XIV. Happy Towzer, 142

CHAPTER XV. Flora Never Opens the Big Gate, 152




It was raining fast, and it had rained for two days. This was the third. Flora had become tired of the leaden sky and the wet earth. She had watched the moving clouds and the swaying branches of the trees long enough, and now she was ready for fair weather. But it seemed as if fair weather would never come, and she looked in vain for a bit of blue sky. There was not even a light streak. It was stormy without and it was stormy within. The gray side of the sky was all that could be seen, and the gray side of Flora's temper was out also. There was a sunny side to both, but that was carefully hidden by the sober clouds.

Flora was tired of the big drops that chased each other down the pane. She was tired of trying to look abroad through the wet glass and the mist. When she did get a glimpse of the outer world there was nothing to see, and that was the worst of it. There was nothing but muddy roads, pools of water and little patches of green grass. It was not to be borne.

Flora crept down from her high chair to the lowly footstool, leaned her head upon her hand and sighed. Sister Amy had gone to school, and Charley and Bertie were big boys. Of course they could go anywhere in any weather, with "yubber" boots. How she envied them! Only she the youngest of the flock, the Baby Pitcher, was forced to stay at home because it rained. So she sighed. Mamma heard the sigh and said inquiringly, "Well?"

"If I was a lady," said Flora, "a certain true lady, I wouldn't stay in for the weather. I would put on my water prooth and go a fishing."

"In the rain?"

"I would."

Mamma laughed. Now Flora was not in a mood to be laughed at, so she shut her eyes to keep back the tears, for she knew they would come if she did not shut the covers down tightly. She did not keep them all back however, for mamma saw two or three rolling slowly down her little girl's cheek.

"Wouldn't go fishing without a water prooth," she added, petulantly; "might fall in and get wet."

Mamma did not laugh now. She was very grave. She had not had an easy time of it since falling weather set in. She could do nothing right. All her efforts had failed to amuse Flora... Continue reading book >>

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