Boys and Girls Bookshelf; a Practical Plan of Character Building, Volume I (of 17) Fun and Thought for Little Folk

VIII

The chapter opens with a quiet lesson in kindness and practical wisdom, following a girl named Doris who loses her first dollar and learns that thoughtful choices paired with generosity bring far richer rewards than hoarding cash for a single big want. Doris’s sharp, wise mama takes her to a fire-damaged bookstore, where they find a large, beautifully illustrated animal story book marked down from 50 cents to 10, its back cover and edges stained with water and smoke from a past blaze. That leaves Doris 90 cents of her original dollar. Since her brother promised to teach her to play marbles, she spends 5 cents on six glass marbles and another 5 on a hoop and stick, leaving 80 cents. When she asks about roller skates, the shopkeeper says they cost a full dollar, so she resolves to save the rest until she can afford them. As they leave the toy shop, however, she spots a small boy staring longingly through the window at a display of red balls, his face soft with longing. Moved by his sadness, Doris buys him a red ball for 5 cents, leaving her with 75 cents. When they get home, her papa surprises her by saying he can pick up a pair of roller skates downtown for exactly that 75 cents, and follows through on his promise. Doris’s lost dollar, then, taught her that kindness and smart spending yield rewards far beyond what hoarding for a single goal can bring.

Next, Amy B. Johnson’s “A Dutch Treat” follows ten-year-old Katharine Easton, a sullen American girl traveling with her Colonel father to Holland to visit her former nurse Marie, who has been homesick for her family after 12 years in New York. Convinced she will hate Holland and Marie’s unknown nieces and nephews, Katharine complains the entire boat ride along the canal in a trekschuit, scoffing at the windmills, colorful boats, and wooden klompen worn by locals. When they arrive at Marie’s sister’s cottage near the dikes, seven shy Dutch children in matching wooden shoes stare back at her, and she writes them off as “horrid little things” at first. But the children immediately welcome her with small, thoughtful gifts, and over a dinner of fish and rye bread, Katharine’s homesickness fades. During their walk along the dikes, a thick fog rolls in, blotting out the path, and Katharine slips, tumbling down the steep dike bank into icy water pools, separated from the group. Cold, wet, and bruised, she stumbles through the dark until she bumps into the door of a nearby cottage, where Dame Donk takes her in, dries her clothes, feeds her hot broth, and lets her sleep by the fire. When Katharine wakes, the fog has cleared, and Dame Donk has already sent for Marie and the children. They dress her in a too-small set of Dutch clothes, including wooden klompen, and when Colonel Easton arrives to take her to Paris that evening, he laughs to see his formerly fashion-obsessed daughter looking like a cheerful Dutch doll. Katharine declares she loves Holland, thinks the children are the sweetest she’s ever met, and promises to write to Gretel as soon as she reaches Paris; her father buys her a full set of traditional Dutch garments as a memento of the trip.

The chapter then shifts to playful, lighthearted verse with Isabel Eccleston Mackay’s “The Jingle of the Little Jap,” a whimsical peek into the daily life of Nami-Ko, a small girl in the Japanese town of Chu-Bo. The short rhyming poem highlights the charming, unfamiliar details of her routine: her neat, oddly shaped tiny shoes, the parasol she wears in place of a hat when she goes calling (just like her mother), and the hard, flat pillow she uses to keep her sleek black hair smooth while she sleeps, each accompanied by a simple illustration of the item in question.

Next, Emma C. Dowd’s “The Seventh Birthday of the Little Cousin from Constantinople” tells the story of a young girl whose birthday party is canceled at the last minute when mumps strikes, barring her from seeing any friends. Too polite to cry in front of her caretaker, the Merry Mother, she hides her disappointment, until the Merry Mother devises a clever way to lift her spirits. She tells the girl to pull the string on her closed door when she’s ready for visitors, then leaves the room. The girl waits, hears quiet commotion outside, and pulls the first string attached to a block marked “PULL.” A package slides across the floor to her bed: inside is a beautiful doll with brown eyes and yellow curls, but no clothes. She cuddles the doll, then pulls the next string, which brings a small trunk full of dolly clothes and accessories. The next string brings a doll-sized armchair, then a dining table with tiny tableware, then a real shared luncheon of tiny treats and chocolate for her and the doll. The fifth package is a doll carriage, the sixth a tiny bed with linens for the doll. She dresses the doll, sets the pretend table, shares the luncheon, tucks the doll into bed, and falls asleep herself just as the Merry Mother peeks in.