BY HELEN M. RICHARDSON.
April unlocks the door of spring,
And soon you'll hear a robin sing.
A bluebird perched upon a tree
Will woo his mate. Perchance you'll see
An early redwing, if you go
Down to the swamp where catkins grow.
For April warden is, of all
The things that went to sleep, last fall.
Just where the field mouse and the toad
Have burrowed; where, beside the road,
The grasshopper and katydid
All winter have been safely hid;
And when the bumblebee will come
A-booming back with pleasant hum?
April can tell you, for 'tis she
Opens the door that sets them free.
ADOPTING A GRANDMOTHER.
BY MARY STARR CONEY.
"Oh, Eloise! Where are you going?" Marjorie Blake rushed down the steps
as she caught sight of her friend dressed in her very best clothes and
carrying a small valise.
"Guess where! It's the best place in the whole world!"
"Away on the train?" questioned Marjorie eagerly.
"Of course. My grandma doesn't live here. Goodness! I told you!" laughed
Eloise.
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