HONOR BRIGHT, PRESIDENT	1
ROSE-RED AND RUTHIE	10
THE TREE GAME	13
BILLY BOY'S MAGIC KEY	15
POLLY'S NEW APRIL FOOL	17
THE THREE B's	22
TEDDY'S HELPERS	25
THE RED-LETTER DAY	29

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When Honor Bright went to live in the country the very first thing he asked for was some real live geese, to join the chickens, and the pussy, and the rabbits already on the farm.

"Will you remember to feed them every day, son, if I get you a pair?" asked his father.

"Yes, papa," said the little boy. "Honor bright!"

When he promised "Honor bright," he always kept his word. And he said "Honor bright" so many times a day that finally Honor Bright became his name.

"Quack, quack!" cried Mr. and Mrs. Goose the day Honor Bright's father brought them home. "What a fine place!"

"Isn't it!" said Mother Hen.

"And just wait till you know Honor Bright!"

"Just wait!" echoed the Rabbit Gray family, and Mr. T. Cat.

Honor Bright was as good as his word, and the geese grew fatter, and fatter, and fatter.

"Good morning, Mr. T. Cat," cried Mr. and Mrs. Goose early one morning. "Had your breakfast?"

"Of course," answered Mr. T. Cat; "Honor Bright always feeds me the very first thing."

"You must be mistaken!" cried Mr. and Mrs, Goose. "Honor Bright always feeds us first."

"But Honor Bright gives my children their breakfast very early!" cackled Mother Hen.

"Well," squeaked Father Rabbit Gray, "we've all had breakfast; and that's the main thing. Now, let's make Honor Bright president, because he's so good. That's the way people do, you know."

Just then Honor Bright came out. "Hail, President Honor Bright!" they all cried.

Honor Bright thought they said, "I love you." And really, it meant the same thing.

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It was Rose Mary's mother who named her Rose-Red. Rose-Ready, it was at first, because Rose Mary was always ready to help. Then it became just Rose-Red, for short.

Rose-Red had much of the sweetness of her name flower, and few of the thorns. That is why, when Ruthie slapped her, Rose-Red didn't slap back. But she came home crying.

Rose-Red's mamma gathered her up in her arms and comforted her. "Ruthie's probably sorry now, dear," she said. "Perhaps she will tell you so by and by. Will my little girl be Rose-Ready, if she does?"

"Rose-Ready for what, mamma?" Rose-Red sat up and dried her eyes.

"Rose-Ready-to-Forgive."

Rose-Red nodded. "I think I'll gather the posies now," was all she said.

Every day Rose-Red cut fresh flowers in the garden and arranged them for the house. It was the one thing in all the world she liked best to do. The roses she always left till the last—"for dessert," she explained.

"Roses, dear," she said, as she tucked them one by one into their special bowl, "what would you do if your best friend slapped you?"

Just then a thorn pricked Rose-Red's finger. "You'd prick her, would you?" Rose-Red laughed. "That's because you are only a rose and don't know any better. It wouldn't be nice for a little girl to prick. I do know something better!"

Rose-Red chose six of the finest roses and carefully clipped off all their thorns. Then she ran to the gate between her yard and Ruthie's, and slipped them into a covered box beside it. This box was Rose-Red's and Ruthie's post office. Nearly every day something went into it from one little girl to the other.

Four o'clock was mail time. Postman Rose-Red hid behind a bush and watched.

Presently Postman Ruthie came down the path. She opened the box and took out the fragrant "letter." Then she laid something inside, drew down the cover, and ran back.

It was Postman Rose-Red's turn now to open the box. Her letter was a real one. It said, "I'm sorry."

Rose-Ready-to-Forgive flew through the gate.

"Ruthie! Ruthie!" she called.

And then Rose-Red kissed Ruthie, and Ruthie kissed Rose-Red. And that was the last of Ruthie-Ready-to-Slap.

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When Margaret and Benjy were getting over the measles their mamma invented a new game to amuse them.

"You might play you are trees," she suggested.

"I'm a pine tree!" cried Margaret.

"So'm I," agreed Benjy.

"Pine trees sing, you know, Benjy," Margaret went on, "so we must sing, too." And the two struck up a lively tune.

Too-dle-dee, too-dle-dee, doo-o-o! It was not the pine trees, however, that sang it.

"Oh, an organ man!" "Oh, a monkey!" And both little pine trees raced to the window.

The organ man smiled. "Dance, Tessa, dance!" he cried to his little girl, grinding away with all his might.

And then how Tessa's little brown legs did flash back and forth, and in and out! And what funny tricks the wee monkey did!

When the music stopped Jocko scrambled up to the window and politely presented a cup to the trees. "Pennies, please," the funny, wizzened little face seemed to beg.

The pine trees brought their banks and shook the pennies out, one by one, into the cup. Then the biggest pine tree thought of something. "Wait a minute," she cried, and disappeared. When she came back she carried two plump bananas.

"Here," she said, handing them out through the window.

Tessa smiled her thanks politely, but Jocko just fell to munching greedily.

The pine trees hung out of the window and watched Tessa and her father and Jocko as they went off down the street. Finally the biggest pine tree turned to the littlest pine tree.

"I'm not a pine tree any longer, Benjy," she announced. "I'd rather be the kind that gives something. I'm a banana tree now."

"So'm I," echoed Benjy.

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Billy Boy had a magic key. He carried it in his face. There was a secret about this key—it always opened doors into pleasant things. His mamma had taught him that.

Billy Boy was playing in the yard one day when his mamma came to the door. "Billy Boy, Billy Boy!" she called. "I want you to do some errands for me!"

When Billy Boy hurried up to the steps his mamma handed him two baskets.

"One is to carry the groceries I've ordered, Billy Boy," she said; "and there's a cake for Mrs. Thomas in the other. You can leave it on the way to the store."

Billy Boy's face clouded. "I—I'd rather not go there, mamma," he said. "Mrs. Thomas is so cross. That's what the boys say."

"That's because they tease her cat, Billy Boy. Remember about the key, and you'll be all right."

Billy Boy picked up his baskets and marched off. Pretty soon, thump, thump, thump! went Mrs. Thomas's brass knocker.

The door flew open. "No," said Mrs. Thomas's loud voice, "I don't want—" Then she stopped. Billy Boy was using his magic key.

"I'm Mrs. Sheldon's little boy," explained Billy Boy, pulling off his cap. "Mamma sent you a cake."

Mrs. Thomas just could not resist that key. "Thank you, child," she said, smiling, and lifting out the cake. "Wait a minute," as Billy started down the steps.

She plunged her hand deep down in her pocket and drew out a bright new nickel. "Here," she said, "buy some candy."

The nickel was clutched tightly in Billy Boy's hand when he reached home. "Look what she gave me!" he cried. "And she wasn't a bit cross. It must have been 'count of the key."

And the magic key? Why, it was Billy Boy's own sunny smile, to be sure.

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"You're losing your hair ribbon, Polly," remarked the twins as their sister sat down to breakfast one first of April morning.

Polly hastily felt of her head.

"April fool! April fool! April fool!" shrieked the twins joyously, pounding on the table.

Polly glared at them. It was raining, and Polly, who hated rain, never could take a joke on a rainy day.

"You're a pair of very rude boys," she said. "Nobody but horrid, rough boys like you would ever think April Fool's any fun!" And she sulked through her breakfast without another word.

But Helen was different. Helen liked rain. Moreover, she didn't in the least mind being fooled, and she laughed just as hard as anybody when she put salt on her mush instead of sugar.

When she went upstairs to put their room in order, however, the room she and Polly shared, the steady drip, drip, drip of the rain made her remember Polly's unhappiness, and it troubled her.

A robin, singing his rain song in the tree outside, cocked his head saucily as Helen went to the window.

"Help her-r-r! Cheer her-r-r! Help her-r-r! Cheer her-r-r!" sang Mr. Redbreast over and over again as he swung on the dripping branches.

"That's a good idea, Mr. Redbreast," Helen answered. "I'm sure she needs it. But how shall I do it?"

Mr. Redbreast winked wisely. "You'll find a way—a way—a way!" he trilled.

Helen spanked a pillow and stood it in its place on the bed. "Thank you, Mr. Redbreast," she answered politely. "I'll try."

Mr. Redbreast gave his tail a pleased little shake and flew away, leaving Helen to spank the other pillow and to wonder what she could do to "help her-r-r, cheer her-r-r."A blue ribbon was hanging out of the top bureau drawer. "The very thing!" cried Helen. "I'll straighten out her drawer. It's always in a muss!" And she fell to work with a will, rolling, and folding, and arranging things in neat little piles.

The baby stood watching her. "There! What do you suppose she'll think of that, Buddy?" she asked, as she gave the last pile a happy pat. Then a new idea popped into her head. She flew downstairs, took a sheet of writing paper out of the desk, and printed something on it in big black letters. Then, running back to her room, she laid the paper on the rows of nice neat piles and carefully closed the drawer.

"I hope she won't mind," she said with a twinkling little smile as she pulled Buddy up on her lap for a story.

The story was only half finished when Polly burst in. "What do you think, Helen!" she cried, tossing her hat and coat in an untidy heap on the bed. "I'm invited to a party! What shall I wear?"

She ran to the bureau and pulled open the top drawer with a jerk. Within lay Helen's paper. Polly picked it up. "April fool!" she read aloud. She looked into the drawer, then at Helen, her face brightening into a sudden smile with her surprise.

"Helen, you're a dear!" she cried. "And I'm just a silly, cross old bear! This is just the loveliest April fool that ever was. I didn't suppose folks could play nice April fool jokes."

Just then the sun came out from behind a cloud and peeped through the window. Helen pointed to it. "Another nice April fool for you, Polly."

But Polly wasn't listening. She stood quietly thinking for a moment, then she picked up her hat, shook out her coat, and started toward the closet.

"April fool!" she said with a laugh, as she hung them inside. "That's another joke on you, Miss Polly Untidy Crosspatch. A few more April fools might turn you into neat Miss Polly Polite. It's about time you turned over a new leaf."

"I think I hear it rustling," said Helen, listening.

"Hear-r-r! Hear-r-r! Hear-r-r!" chirped Mr. Redbreast joyously from the tree.

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The Three B's Club had only one rule—each member was to try every day to be all three of the B's.

Usually it was quite easy to be one B. Often it was not so very difficult to be two B's. But to be three B's was many times very, very hard indeed.

The Saturday Ned Brown's father gave him the new catching glove was one of those times. Ned wanted to go out and try the glove. Just as he was starting, however, Mrs. Brown called him.

"Ned," she said, "the wood box is empty!"

Ned knew what that meant, but he remembered B Number Two in time to keep from frowning.

"All right," he called back cheerily, and went out, whistling, to the barn.

Thwack! went the ax into the wood. Ned was strong, and every blow told. His mother, hearing the chopping, smiled to herself. She knew about the B's.

"Whew!" said Ned presently, stopping for breath. "This is being B Number One, all right. Two B's in one morning aren't so bad!"

"Hi, Ned!" came over the fence as he started for the house with an armful of wood. "Why don't you come over? You said you had a new glove."

"Have," answered Ned as two other members of the Three B's climbed into sight. "Wait a minute."

He dumped his wood into the box in the kitchen, and then ran proudly back with the precious glove. "Here it is."

The boys felt of it, pinched it, tried it on. "It's a dandy. Come on and catch!" they urged.

"Can't just yet. You can use it till I come." And Ned returned to his work, while the boys ran off with the glove.

The Three B's met at Ned's house that afternoon. The club always reported once a week on their success as B's.

"I don't have any chance to be B Number Three," complained Ned, when his turn came to talk.

Mrs. Brown was just coming in with a pitcher of lemonade. "I know better, Ned," she said. "How about chopping wood when you wanted to play ball? That made all three B's this morning—Busy, Bright, and Brave."

"And I know another B Number Three, too," cried Ned Baker. "How about loaning us your catching glove when you hadn't used it yourself?"

Ned smiled shyly, and B Number Two was written all over his face as he slowly sipped his lemonade.

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Christmas was near, and there were only a few pennies in Teddy's apple bank.

"I'm afraid I won't have money enough to buy them, mummie," said Teddy wistfully. "Won't you—" His eyes looked the question his lips wanted to ask.

"No, Teddy," said his mother. "For then it would be my present instead of yours."

"But Arthur's hands get so cold carrying the clothes!" Teddy's eyes fell to his own hands, which were always snug and warm in their red mittens. The washerwoman's little boy had no mittens.

"Earn some money, Teddy," suggested his mother.

Teddy's face fell. "How can I?" he said.

"Keep your eyes open and do the thing they tell you to do."

"All right," answered Teddy. "I'll try."

At that moment Father Sun, who had been peeping through the window, slipped behind a cloud.

peeping through the window, slipped behind a cloud.

"Children," he said to the little clouds, "there's a boy down below who wants to earn money to buy mittens for a boy who hasn't any. I want you to help him."

"We will, Father Sun," cried the little clouds. Then the sky began to grow so dark that the earth people looked up and said, "I do believe it's going to snow!" And it did.

Soon the air was filled with great fluffy, whirling flakes, tumbling eagerly down to help Teddy.

"Not so close!" cried the first flake as the others came down on top of him. "We'll make it too hard for Teddy if we pack tight together."

"That's so!" cried the others. And so they settled very, very gently.

All night the snowflakes fell. In the morning Father Sun poked his head out from behind a cloud.

"My, my! How fine the earth looks!" he exclaimed. "I think that's about enough, children." And Father Sun smiled so broadly that the earth people said, "How dazzling the sun is!" and squinted, and rubbed their eyes.

When the last flake had settled in its place, Teddy buttoned on his leggings to go out.

"Are you keeping your eyes open this morning, Teddy?" asked his mother.

Teddy laughed. "Of course," he said. "I couldn't see if—" Then he stopped abruptly. "It is a way, isn't it, mummie!" he cried.

"Yes," she said. "I think I hear twenty-five cents dropping into the apple. I will give you that much if you will shovel a path to the gate."

"Goody!" cried Teddy. Then he hunted up the snow shovel and fell to work.

"Teddy! Teddy!" Teddy looked up. The old lady across the way was standing in her door. "I'll give you a quarter if you'll clean my walk."

"All right!" Teddy shouted back. And then how the snow did fly as he dug and scraped and shoveled!

"My, my!" said Father Sun. "What an industrious boy!" And he smiled till Teddy grew quite warm, and the busy hands in the red mittens were never once cold.

When the day was over, four bright quarters lay snugly in the apple bank.

The day before Christmas Teddy emptied the bank and went shopping. And that night, when the washerwoman's boy came for the clothes, on top of the basket lay, not mittens, but a pair of thick gloves lined with wool.

Father Sun was so happy about it that he smiled all Christmas Day. And so did Arthur. And so—more brightly than either—did Teddy.

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"What's a red-letter day, Nora?" asked Betty, coming into the kitchen where Nora was doing the Saturday baking.

"It's a day when something 'specially nice happens," answered Nora. "Why?"

"Mamma just said it would be a red-letter day if she got all her mending done by night. I wish," added Betty wistfully, "that I could make it a red-letter day for her!"

"You can!" cried Nora. "I'll show you how to make a cake, and then she won't have to make it. She can have the time to mend."

"Goody, goody!" cried Betty, when her mamma said she might try.

"I didn't tell her about the red-letter part," she explained, as she and Nora measured and beat and stirred. "That will make it another kind of red-letter day—S for S'prise."

The cake came out of the oven light and flaky and beautiful.

"Wouldn't it be nice," sighed Betty, "if it could only have a red S right in the middle?"

"It can," said Nora. "Make it of those tiny red candies of yours. You'll have to work fast before the icing dries."

When the S was finished it was pretty crooked, even for an S. But there was no doubt at all about what it was.

When dinner was on the table Betty brought in the cake and set it before her mother.

"Well, well, well!" cried Mrs. Arnold. "What a fine little cook I have! But what is the S for, Betty?"

"It stands for Saturday, mamma," said Betty. And then she told all about the red-letter plan.

"It was a dear plan," said her mother. "And I did finish the mending. And now I'll tell my little girl something else. S stands for Saturday, but it stands for another word, too—it stands for my Sunshine," she finished, giving Betty a loving kiss.

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The Goody-Naughty Book THE NAUGHTY SIDE By SARAH CORY RIPPEY With illustrations by BLANCHE FISHER WRIGHT RAND McNALLY & COMPANY CHICAGONEW YORK

Copyright, 1913, By Rand McNally & Company All rights reserved Edition of 1927 Made in U. S. A.

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