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Tell Me a Story by Mrs Molesworth Author: Mrs Molesworth, Illustrator: Walter Crane; Joseph Swain B00DULEE6M File Size: 578 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- family, fiction, novel, life, classic, children, baby The children sat round me in the gloaming. There were several of them; from Madge, dear Madge with her thick fair hair and soft kind grey eyes, down to pretty little Sybil--Gipsy, we called her for fun,--whom you would hardly have guessed, from her brown face and bright dark eyes, to be Madge?s ?own cousin.? They were mostly girls, the big ones at least, which is what one would expect, for it is not often that big boys care much about sitting still, and even less about anything so sentimental as sitting still in the twilight doing nothing. There were two or three little boys however, nice round-faced little fellows, who had not yet begun to look down upon ?girls,? and were very much honoured at being admitted to a good game of romps with Madge and her troop. It was one of these--the rosiest and nicest of them all, little Ted--who pulled my dress and whispered, but loud enough for every one to hear, with his coaxingest voice--?Tell me a story, aunty.? And then it came all round in a regular buzz, in every voice, repeated again and again--?O aunty! do; dear, dear aunty, tell us a story.? I had been knitting, but it had grown too dark even for that. I could not pretend to be ?busy.? What could I say? I held up my hands in despair. ?O children! dear children!? I cried, ?truly, truly, I don?t know what stories to tell. You are such dreadfully wise people now-a-days--you have long ago left behind you what I used to think wonderful stories--?Cinderella,? and ?Beauty and the Beast,? and all the rest of them; and you have such piles of story-books that you are always reading, and many of them too written for you by the cleverest men and women living! What could I tell you that you would care to hear? Why, it will be the children telling stories to amuse the papas and mammas, and aunties next, like the ?glorious revolution? in ?Liliput Levée!? No, no, your poor old aunty is not quite in her dotage yet. She knows better than to try to amuse you clever people with her stupid old hum-drum stories.? I did not mean to hurt the poor dear little things--I did not, truly--I spoke a little in earnest, but more in jest, as I shook my head and looked round the circle. But to my surprise they took it all for earnest, and the tears even gathered in two or three pairs of eyes. ?Aunty, you know we don?t think so,? began Madge, gentle Madge always, reproachfully. And ?It?s too bad of you, aunty, too bad,? burst out plain-speaking Dolly. And worst of all, Ted clambered manfully up on to my knees, and proceeded to shake me vigorously. ?Naughty aunty,? he said, ?naughty, naughty aunty. Ted will shake you, and shake you, to make you good.? What could I do but cry for mercy? and promise anything and everything, fifty stories on the spot, if only they would forgive me? ?But, truly children,? I said again, when the hubbub had subsided a little, ?I am afraid I do not know any stories you would care for.? ?We should care for anything you tell us,? they replied, ?about when you were a little girl, or anything.? I considered a little. ?I might tell you something of that kind,? I said, ?and perhaps, by another evening, I might think over about some other people?s ?long agos?--your grandmother?s, for instance. Would that please you?? Great applause. ?And another thing,? I continued, ?if I try to rub up some old stories for you, don?t you think you might help? You, Madge, dear, for instance, you are older than the others--couldn?t you tell them something of your own childish life even??   White Turrets by Mrs. Molesworth Author: Mrs. Molesworth, Illustrator: W. Rainey B00DUQ0O66 File Size: 430 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- fiction, girl, novel, classic, Dreams, Winifred, Hertha A dull afternoon in November. In London, too, where, though bright and beautiful November days are not utterly unknown, they are, it must be allowed, the exception. A not very lively scene indoors either. A large--too large for the present purpose at least--concert-room in a public building, very far from well filled, and somewhat dimly lighted; the dimness aggravated by a suspicion of fog. ?Rather an unlucky day, I fear,? said one lady to her next neighbour. ?Still, at this season, what can one expect?? ?And after all,? was the reply, ?the dull season is the best for charity things. People--such of them as are in town--are glad of something to do.? For the concert was one for a benevolent object, not seemingly a very popular one, or possibly merely but little known. It had been difficult to collect the performers, more difficult to obtain the lady patronesses, most difficult of all to sell the tickets. And as a natural consequence, but few had been sold. ?The programme is a very fair one,? resumed the first speaker, glancing at it as she spoke. ?I?m glad you think so,? replied the other lady, who had had some hand in getting up the concert. ?That last violin solo was a little too long.? ?Perhaps so--but still--the audience was very attentive; more than attentive indeed. Just look at those two girls--I have been watching their faces. They seem quite absorbed and delighted. Look at them now. What pretty girls they are, too!? Mrs Balderson--for such was the name of the second speaker--smiled. Her companion?s remarks pleased her. ?They are two young friends of mine,? she replied in a lower tone. ?I put them in front so as to see the performers well. They are full of interest in everything. They are staying with me for two or three weeks--their first real visit to London.? ?Indeed! how you must enjoy having them! Are they relations?? came next. Mrs Balderson answered in a semi-whisper, till a slight rustle of expectancy warned her that the momentary interval between the long solo and a song which came next was over, and she relapsed into dutiful silence. The sisters in front had been talking also, though in subdued tones.   THE THIRTEEN LITTLE BLACK PIGS / THE GREEN CASKET and Other Stories by Mrs Moleswort Author: Mrs. Mary Louisa Molesworth, Illustrator: W. J. Morgan B00E3D693M File Size: 2588 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- tales, novel, fiction, children, classic, animals, pets The house stood on rising ground, and the nursery was at the top of the house?except of course for the attics above?so there was a good view from the two large windows. This was a great comfort to the children during the weeks they were busy getting better from a long, very long, illness, or illnesses. For they had been so unwise as to get measles, and scarlet fever, and something else?I am not sure if it was whooping-cough or chicken-pox?all mixed up together! Don't you think they might have been content with one at a time? Their mamma thought so, and the doctor thought so, and most of all, perhaps, nurse thought so. But when they began to get really better, they themselves weren't so sure about it. Maxie said to Dolly that he really thought it was rather clever to have finished up all the illnesses at once, and Dolly agreed with him, adding that their cousins had been nearly as long "with only measles." But nurse, who heard what they were saying, reminded them that instead of them "finishing up the illnesses," as Master Max said, it might have been the illnesses finishing them up. Which was true enough, and made Max, who was the older of the two, look rather grave. And then the getting better was very long, especially as it was early spring, and there were lots of damp and chilly days still, and for weeks and weeks there was no talk or thought of their going out, and it was very difficult indeed not to get tired of the toys and games their mother provided for them, and even of her very nicest stories. Besides, a mamma cannot go on telling stories all day, however sorry she is for her little invalids, and however well she understands that when people, little or big, have been ill and are still feeling weak, and "unlike themselves," it is very, very difficult not to be discontented and quarrelsome. So but for the nursery windows I don't quite know what the children would have done sometimes.   Sweet Content by Mrs Molesworth Author: Mrs Molesworth, Illustrator: W. Rainey B00DUFQSYY File Size: 2378 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- family, fiction, novel, life, classic, children, baby Chapter One. An "Only" Baby. "Sweet Content." That was my name when I was a very tiny child. It may sound rather conceited to tell this of myself, but when I have told all the story I am now beginning, I don't think, at least I hope, you, whoever you are that read it, won't say I am conceited. Indeed, if I thought any one I knew, or rather that knew me, would be likely to read it and to know that the "I" of it was me, I am not by any means sure that I would write it. But, of course, it is not at all certain that it ever will be printed or seen by any one (except, perhaps, by my children, if, when I am grown up, I am married and have any) who ever heard of me. The world seems to me a very big place; there are such lots and lots of people in it, old ones and children, and middling ones; and they are all busy and taken up about their own affairs. Some other children might like to read my story, just as a story, for I do think some parts of it are rather extra interesting; but it is not probable that any of them would recognise me, or the other "characters" (I think that is the right word) in it. Except--except some of the other characters themselves! They don't know I am writing it, perhaps they never will know about it; but if they did--yes, even if they read every word of it--I don't think I'd mind. They are so truly--no, I mustn't begin telling about them like that; you will understand, all in good time, why, least of any people in the world, perhaps, I should mind their reading the exactly how it was of everything I have to tell. This shows how perfectly I can trust them. And in saying even that, though I really couldn't help it, I'm afraid I have already got rather out of the proper orderly way of telling a story. I will start clearly now. What I have written already is a sort of preface or introduction. And it has a much better chance of being read than if I had put it separately. As I began about my baby name, and as I am going to use it for a title--for several reasons, as you will see--I will first explain about it.