Blue Mountain

All night we climbed the mountain,
Excited in the dark,
The flare from the small lamps up ahead
Looked like a tiny spark.

We reached the top just as the sun
Was wiping the sleep from its eyes
And sending out red fingers
To investigate the skies.

It suddenly leapt out of bed,
Wrapped the world in an orange flame,
And we gasped in wonder at the sight,
This was why we came.

We watched the shy blush spread across
The face of the bashful sky,
We saw the cars like tiny ants
In the roads below, crawl by.

We heard the birds chirp awake,
Saw them flit across to plunder
The rose-apples and the hog-plum tree.
Heard a waterfall roar like thunder.

We washed our faces with the dew,
Breathed the perfume of the Four O’Clock,
Watched a lizard climb a stone to sun itself,
Then scuttle away in shock.

We headed back down the mountain,
The sun was wide-awake and bright,
Our legs were tired and heavy,
But inside, our hearts were light.

Say Please, Little Bear
Daddy Bear and Little Bear were on their way to playgroup.
But Little Bear kept wandering off.
“Keep hold of my hand, Little Bear!” said Daddy Bear.
“Go gently, Little Bear!” said Daddy Bear at playgroup.
But Little Bear didn’t listen.
“Little Bear, it isn’t nice to snatch!”
“It’s better when we share, Little Bear,” said Daddy Bear.
Later, Daddy Bear took Little Bear to Little Bunny’s birthday party.
They went shopping on the way.
“Please hold my hand, Little Bear!” said Daddy Bear wearily.
Then something in the shop window gave Daddy Bear an idea.
“Look, Little Bear,” he said. “Mouse wants to speak to us!”
“Mouse wants to come to the party too, Little Bear,” said Daddy Bear. “But he hates to be late!”
They reached Little Bunny’s party on time. Mouse whispered in Daddy Bear’s ear.
“Mouse says, excuse me, please,” said Daddy Bear.
Little Bear ran to play on the train. Mouse whispered in Daddy Bear’s ear again.
“Mouse says, can she have a ride on the train, please?”
Little Bear snatched the popcorn from his friends.
Mouse whispered in Daddy Bear’s ear once again.
“Mouse says, would you like some popcorn, Bunny and Mole?”
When it was time to go, Little Bear stood silently on the doorstep.
“Mouse says, thank you for having me,” said Daddy Bear.
Little Bear looked at Mouse.
Then he looked at Daddy Bear.
Then he looked at Little Bunny’s mummy and said, “And thank you for having me.”
“Oh, thank you for coming, Little Bear,” smiled Little Bunny’s mummy.
“You and Mouse can come and play any time.”
“Mouse likes the way you said thank you,” said Daddy Bear.
“And so do I.”

Into the Forest
One night I was woken up by a terrible sound.
The next morning all was quiet.
Dad wasn’t there.
I asked Mum when he was coming back but she didn’t seem to know.
I missed Dad.
The next day Mum asked me to take a cake to Grandma, who was poorly.
I love Grandma. She always tells me such fantastic stories.
There are two ways to get to Grandma’s house: the long way round, which takes ages, or the short way through the forest.
“Don’t go into the forest,” said Mum. “Go the long way round.”
But that day, for the first time, I chose the quick way.
I wanted to be home in case Dad came back.
After a short while I saw a boy.
“Do you want to buy a nice milky moo-cow?” he asked.
“No,” I said. (Why would I want a cow?)
“I’ll swap it for that sweet fruity cake in your basket,” he said.
“No, it’s for my poorly grandma,” I said, and walked on.
“I’m poorly,” I heard him saying, “I’m poorly…”
As I went further into the forest I met a girl with golden hair.
“What a sweet little basket,” she said. “What’s in it?”
“A cake for my grandma. She’s poorly.”
“I’d like a lovely cake like that,” she said.
I walked on and could hear her saying, “But it’s a lovely little cake, I’d like one like that…”
The forest was becoming darker and colder, and I saw two other children huddling by a fire.
“Have you seen our dad and mum?” the boy asked.
“No, have you lost them?”
“They’re cutting wood in the forest somewhere,” said the girl, “but I wish they’d come back.”
As I walked on I could hear the dreadful sound of the girl crying, but what could I do?
I was getting very cold and wished that I’d brought a coat.
Suddenly I saw one. It was nice and warm, but as soon as I put it on I began to feel scared.
I felt that something was following me.
I remembered a story that Grandma used to tell me about a bad wolf.
I started to run, but I couldn’t find the path. I ran and ran, deeper into the forest, but I was lost.
Where was Grandma’s house?
At last—there it was!
I knocked on the door and a voice called out, “Who’s there?”
But it didn’t really sound like Grandma’s voice.
“It’s me. I’ve brought a cake from Mum,”
I pushed the door open a little.
“Come in, dear,” the strange voice called.
I was terrified. I slowly crept in.
There in Grandma’s bed was …
Grandma!
“Come here, love,” she sniffed. “How are you?”
“I’m all right now,” I said.
Then, I heard a noise behind me and turned round …
DAD!
I told them everything that had happened.
We all had a hot drink and I ate two pieces of Mum’s delicious cake.
Then we said goodbye to Grandma, who was feeling much better.
When we got home I pushed open the door.
“Who’s there?” a voice called.
“It’s only us,” we said.
And Mum came out, smiling.

Millions of Cats
Once upon a time there was a very old man and a very old woman.
They lived in a nice clean house which had flowers all around it, except where the door was.
But they couldn’t be happy because they were so very lonely.
“If we only had a cat!” sighed the very old woman.
“A cat?” asked the very old man.
“Yes, a sweet little fluffy cat,” said the very old woman.
“I will get you a cat, my dear,” said the very old man.
And he set out over the hills to look for one.
He climbed over the sunny hills.
He trudged through the cool valleys.
He walked a long, long time and at last he came to a hill which was quite covered with cats.
Cats here, cats there, cats and kittens everywhere.
Hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats.
“Oh,” cried the old man joyfully, “Now I can choose the prettiest cat and take it home with me!”
So he chose one. It was white.
But as he was about to leave, he saw another one all black and white and it seemed just as pretty as the first,
So he took this one also.
But then he saw a fuzzy grey kitten way over here which was every bit as pretty as the others so he took it too.
And now he saw one way down in a corner which he thought too lovely to leave so he took this too.
And just then, over here, the very old man found a kitten which was black and very beautiful.
“It would be a shame to leave that one,” said the very old man. So he took it.
And now, over there, he saw a cat which had brown and yellow stripes like a baby tiger.
“I simply must take it!” cried the very old man, and he did.
So it happened that every time the very old man looked up, he saw another cat which was so pretty he could not bear to leave it, and before he knew it, he had chosen them all.
And so he went back over the sunny hills and down through the cool valleys, to show all his pretty kittens to the very old woman.
It was very funny to see those hundreds and thousands and millions and billions and trillions of cats following him.
They came to a pond.
“Mew, mew! We are thirsty!” carried the hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats.
“Well, here is a great deal of water,” said the very old man.
Each cat took a sip of water, and the pond was gone.
“Mew, mew! Now we are hungry!” said the hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats.
“There is much grass on the hills,” said the very old man.
Each cat ate a mouthful of grass and not a blade was left!
Pretty soon the very old woman saw them coming.
“My dear!” she cried, “What are you doing?” I asked for one little cat, and what do I see?—
“Cats here, cats there, cats and kittens everywhere, hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats.
“But we can never feed them all,” said the very old woman, “they will eat us out of house and home.”
“I never thought of that,” said the very old man, “what shall we do?”
The very old woman thought for a while and then she said, “I know! We will let the cats decide which one we should keep.”
“Oh yes,” said the very old man, and he called to the cats, “which one of you is the prettiest?”
“I am!”
“I am!”
“No, I am!”
“No, I am the prettiest!” “I am!”
“No, I am! I am! I am!” cried hundreds and thousands and millions and billions and trillions of voices, for each cat thought itself the prettiest.
And they began to quarrel.
They bit and scratched and clawed each other and made such a great noise that the very old man and the very old woman ran into the house as fast as they could.
They did not like such quarreling.
But after a while the noise stopped and the very old man and the very old woman peeped out of the window to see what had happened.
They could not see a single cat!
“I think they must have eaten each other all up,” said the very old woman, “it’s too bad!”
“But look!” said the very old man, and he pointed to a bunch of high grass.
In it sat one little frightened kitten.
They went out and picked it up.
It was thin and scraggly.
“Poor little kitty,” said the very old woman.
“Dear little kitty,” said the very old man, “how does it happen that you were not eaten up with all those hundreds and thousands and millions and billions and trillions of cats?”
“Oh, I’m just a very homely little cat,” said the kitten, “So when you asked who was the prettiest, I didn’t say anything. So nobody bothered about me.”
They took the kitten into the house, where the very old woman gave it a warm bath and brushed its fur until it was soft and shiny.
Every day they gave it plenty of milk-
-and soon it grew nice and plump.
“And it is a very pretty cat, after all!” said the very old woman.
“It is the most beautiful cat in the whole world,” said the very old man.
“I ought to know, for I’ve seen –
Hundreds for cats,
Thousands of cats,
Millions and billions and trillions of cats –
And not one was as pretty as this one.”

The Story of Ferdinand
Once upon a time in Spain, there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand.
All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not Ferdinand.
He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers.
He had a favorite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree.
It was his favorite tree and he would sit in its shade all day and smell the flowers.
Sometimes his mother, who was a cow, would worry about him.
She was afraid he would be lonesome all by himself.
“Why don’t you run and play with the other little bulls and skip and butt your head?” she would say.
But Ferdinand would shake his head.
“I like it better here where I can sit just quietly and smell the flowers.”
His mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy.
As the years went by Ferdinand grew and grew until he was very big and strong.
All the other bulls who had grown up with him in the same pasture would fight each other all day.
They would butt each other and stick each other with their horns.
What they wanted most of all was to be picked to fight at the bull fights in Madrid.
But not Ferdinand – he still liked to sit just quietly under the cork tree and smell the flowers.
One day five men came in very funny hats to pick the biggest, fastest, roughest bull to fight in the bull fights in Madrid.
All the other bulls ran around snorting and butting, leaping and jumping so the men would think that they were very very strong and fierce and pick them.
Ferdinand knew that they wouldn’t pick him and he didn’t care.
So he went out to his favorite cork tree to sit down.
He didn’t look where he was sitting and instead of sitting on the nice cool grass in the shade he sat on a bumble bee.
Well, if you were a bumble bee and a bull sat on you what would you do?
You would sting him. And that is just what this bee did to Ferdinand.
Wow! Did it hurt! Ferdinand jumped up with a snort.
He ran around puffing and snorting, butting and pawing the ground as if he were crazy.
The five men saw him and they all shouted with joy.
Here was the largest and fiercest bull of all.
Just the one for the bull fights in Madrid!
So they took him away for the bull fight day in a cart.
What a day it was! Flags were flying, bands were playing…
and all the lovely ladies had flowers in their hair.
They had a parade into the bull ring.
First came the Banderilleros with long sharp pins with ribbons on them to stick in the bull and make him mad.
Next came the Picadores who rode skinny horses and they had long spears to stick in the bull and make him madder.
Then came the Matador, the proudest of all – he thought he was very handsome, and bowed to the ladies. He had a red cape and a sword and was supposed to stick the bull last of all.
Then came the bull, and you know who that was, don’t you?
-- FERDINAND
They called him Ferdinand the Fierce and all the Banderilleros were afraid of him and the Picadores were afraid of him and the Matador was scared stiff.
Ferdinand ran to the middle of the ring and everyone shouted and clapped because they thought he was going to fight fiercely and butt and snort and stick his horns around.
But not Ferdinand. When he got to the middle of the ring he saw the flowers in all the lovely ladies’ hair and he just sat down quietly and smelled.
He wouldn’t fight and be fierce no matter what they did.
He just sat and smelled. And the Banderilleros were mad and the Picadores were madder and the Matador was so mad he cried because he wouldn’t show off with his cape and sword.
So they had to take Ferdinand home.
And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.
He is very happy.
The End

Chapter 4 A Dumb Balancing Act
“Are we gonna play football?” I asked Miss Small.
“No,” Miss Small said.
“How about basketball?” asked Ryan.
“Nope.”
“Soccer?”
“Not even close.”
“Baseball? Hockey? Tennis?”
“No. No. No.”
“Curling?” I asked.
“No.”
“I thought you said we were gonna have fun,” Michael complained.
“I did,” said Miss Small .
“So what are we gonna do?” I asked.
Miss Small went to a box near the bleachers and pulled out some giant feathers that were as long as her arms.
“We’re going to balance these peacock feathers,” she said.
“What!” I asked.
“Whoever can balance a feather on their finger the longest is the winner,” Miss Small said. She took a feather and balanced it on her finger. “See, it’s easy!”
She gave each of us a feather. I put the feather on my finger. It fell off right away. I put it back on my finger, and it fell off again. I tried moving my finger back and forth like Miss Small did to hold the feather up, but it fell off anyway.
Balancing feathers was not fun. It was dumb.
I looked up to see if Ryan could balance his feather. But his fell off. I turned around to see how Michael was doing. His feather fell off too.
In fact, there was only one kid in the whole class who was still balancing the dumb feather.
It was Andrea Young! Her dumb feather was just standing up all straight on her dumb finger like it was glued there.
“Good job, Andrea!” said Miss Small.
“You have excellent balance.” And she gave Andrea a certificate that said she was a feather-balancing expert.
“Thanks, Miss Small,” Andrea said.
“Maybe Fizz Ed won’t be so bad after all!”
I hate her.

Remember Me
创作：冬冬 翻译：冬爸
T’was a cold and windy night,
When I first told her the news.
She wept and begged, but, nonetheless,
I had to do what I had to do.
I held my rifle tight,
And veered my horse around.
From the bottom of my heart rose a chill
Between the sobbing sounds.
I couldn’t let go,
But yet, I had no choice.
I could still remember the whip
Of the commander’s voice.
I was off to sea,
To fight the pirate rage.
And I don’t know if I’ll return
To turn another page.
I’m half past my prime.
Eventually I’ll go.
But when I do, promise me,
You’ll remember me so.

勿忘我

寒冷的夜晚冷风嗖嗖，
我告诉她说马上要走。
她哭着求着让我留下，
可我心已定无法回头。
我拿起步枪紧握在手，
我纵身一跃拨转马头。
她抽搐哽咽眼泪涟涟，
我内心涌起一股寒流。
难以释怀却无法放手，
万般无奈却无法停留。
将军的声音犹在耳畔，
唯遵从命令快马加鞭。
我要前往汹涌的波涛，
去捍卫正义消灭海盗。
不知道能否凯旋归来，
不知道能否带回捷报。
大好的年华业已过半，
我要去沙场消灭敌顽。
分别的时刻终于来临，
请一定把我记在心间。

Chapter 3 Fun, Fun, Fun with Miss Small
Miss Small was carrying a basketball, a football, a soccer ball, a kickball, and just about every other kind of ball you could name. She ran out and climbed up on the bleachers. Then she jumped off the bleachers and jumped on one of those little trampolines on the floor.
She did a flip, went flying through the air, and tried to dunk all those balls in the basketball hoop. One or two of them went in, but mostly they went flying all over the place.
So did Miss Small. She landed in a heap on the floor.
Miss Small is off the wall!
“Are you okay?” we all asked as we gathered around her. I was afraid she might have broken something, because she was just lying there without moving.
“I’m fit as a fiddle!” Miss Small replied. “I just wanted to show you how you’re not supposed to behave in the gym. In Fizz Ed, safety is our biggest concern.”
Miss Daisy said she had to go back to class, and she left. Miss Small stood up slowly. It was amazing! Nobody could do anything except stare at her with their mouth open.
“Wow!” we all said.
The amazing thing was that Miss Small was really tall! Like, she was a million inches big. Her head just about reached the basketball hoop. It was like a giant had walked into the room. She must be the tallest person in the history of the world!
Miss Small was the opposite of her name. It was like a fat guy was named Mr. Thin or a dumb guy was named Mr. Smart or a really handsome guy was named Mr. Ugly or . . . well, you get the idea.
Miss Small blew into the shiny silver whistle that was hanging around her neck.
“Hey, kids! Are you ready to have some fun?”
“Yeah!” we all hollered.
“We’re going to have lots of fun in Fizz Ed!” she said. “Fun fun fun, all the time! That’s my motto.”
“What’s a motto?” asked Ryan.
“I don’t know,” Miss Small said. “What’s a motto with you?”
Then she laughed.
“Do you like to play games?” Miss Small asked. “I love playing games!”
“I like to play video games,” one of the boys said.
“Those aren’t the kind of games I’m talking about,” said Miss Small. “Real games are even more fun. I’m talking about running and jumping and chasing games. We’re going to play Red Light Green Light, Red Rover, Spud, Mother May I, Duck Duck Goose. . . . ”
“Those games are lame,” Ryan whispered in my ear.
“Kids can get hurt when they run and jump and chase each other,” said Andrea. “My mother told me to always be careful so I don’t get hurt.”
“Can you possibly be any more boring?” I asked Andrea.
She is gonna make a great grown-up when she grows up. She’s only eight, and she’s already mature, which is a fancy way to say boring.
“Do we have to play games where somebody loses?” asked that crybaby Emily. “I think the team that loses should win too. My dad told me I’m a winner whether I win or lose.”
“Your dad is weird,” I said, even though Emily looked like she might cry again. “If everybody wins, what’s the point of playing the game? That’s why you play. To beat the other team.”
“Competing is icky,” said Andrea.
“It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, A.J. It’s how you play the game that counts,” said Miss Small. “In Fizz Ed, our goal is to have fun and build strong, healthy bodies. But most of all, by the end of the term, I want you all to have cooties.”
“Cooties!” everybody shrieked.
“Girls have cooties!” shouted all the boys.
“Boys have cooties!” shouted all the girls.
I never really knew what cooties were, but I knew they were something horrible that you wouldn’t want to get.
“Everybody should have cooties,” said Miss Small. “Cooties stands for COOperation, TEAmwork, and Sportsmanship.”
Oh. I didn’t care much about that stuff. I just wanted to beat Andrea Young at something because she thinks she is so smart. Besides, words that are made from the letters of other words are dumb.
Miss Small blew her whistle again.
“Before we do anything, we have to stretch.”
Miss Small got down on the floor again and did some push-ups. Then we had to do push-ups. She did some sit-ups. Then we had to do sit-ups. She did some windmills and arm circles. Then we had to do windmills and arm circles.
“See if you can touch your toes,” Miss Small said. “Now see if you can touch the sky. You want to be loose as a goose in a caboose.”
Stretching was boring, and dumb, too. Nobody can touch the sky. After we stretched, Miss Small made us do about a million hundred jumping jacks.
“Isn’t this fun?” Miss Small asked when we were finished.
I thought I was gonna throw up.
She blew her whistle again.
“Okay, now that we’re all as loose as a goose in a caboose, who wants to play a game?”
“I do!” we all shouted.
Finally!

New York is 3 hours ahead of California,
纽约时间比加州时间早三个小时，
but it does not make California slow.
但加州时间并没有变慢。
Someone graduated at the age of 22,
有人22岁就毕业了，
but waited 5 years before securing a good job!
但等了五年才找到好的工作！
Someone became a CEO at 25,
有人25岁就当上CEO，
and died at 50.
却在50岁去世。
While another became a CEO at 50,
也有人迟到50岁才当上CEO，
and lived to 90 years.
然后活到90岁。
Someone is still single,
有人依然单身，
while someone else got married.
同时也有人已婚。
Obama retires at 55,
奥巴马55岁就退休，
but Trump starts at 70.
川普70岁才开始当总统。
Absolutely everyone in this world works based on their Time Zone.
世上每个人本来就有自己的发展时区。
People around you might seem to go ahead of you,
身边有些人看似走在你前面，
some might seem to be behind you.
也有人看似走在你后面。
But everyone is running their own RACE, in their own TIME.
但其实每个人在自己的时区有自己的步程。
Don’t envy them or mock them.
不用嫉妒或嘲笑他们。
They are in their TIME ZONE, and you are in yours!
他们都在自己的时区里，你也是！
Life is about waiting for the right moment to act.
生命就是等待正确的行动时机。
So, RELAX.
所以，放轻松。
You’re not LATE.
你没有落后。
You’re not EARLY.
你没有领先。
You are very much ON TIME, and in your TIME ZONE Destiny set up for you.
在命运为你安排的属于自己的时区里，一切都准时。

The Dot

Art Class was over, but Vashti sat glued to her chair.
Her paper was empty.
Vashti’s teacher leaned over the blank paper.
“Ah! A polar bear in a snow storm,” she said.
“Very funny!” said Vashti. “I just CAN’T draw!”
Her teacher smiled.
“Just make a mark and see where it takes you.”
Vashti grabbed a marker and gave the paper a good, strong jab.
“There!”
Her teacher picked up the paper and studied it carefully.
“Hmmmmm.”
She pushed the paper toward Vashti and quietly said, “Now sign it.”
Vashti thought for a moment.
“Well, maybe I can’t draw, but I CAN sign my name.”
The next week, when Vashti walked into art class, she was surprised to see what was hanging above her teacher’s desk.
It was the little dot she had drawn—HER DOT!
All framed in swirly gold!
“Hmmph! I can make a better dot that THAT!”
She opened her never-before-used set of watercolors and set to work.
Vashti painted and painted.
A red dot.
A purple dot.
A yellow dot.
A blue dot.
The Blue mixed with the yellow.
She discovered that she could make a GREEN dot.
Vashti kept experimenting.
Lots of little dots in many colors.
“If I can make little dots, I can make BIG dots, too.”
Vashti splashed her colors with a bigger brush on bigger paper to make bigger dots.
Vashti even made a dot by NOT painting a dot.
At the school art show a few weeks later, Vashti’s many dots made quite a splash.
Vashti noticed a little boy gazing up at her.
“You’re a really great artist. I wish I could draw,” he said.
“I bet you can,” said Vashti.
“ME? No, not me. I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler.”
Vashti smiled.
She handed the boy a blank sheet of paper.
“Show me.”
The boy’s pencil shook as he drew his line.
Vashti stared at the boy’s squiggle.
And then she said…
“Sign it.”

Miss Nelson Is Missing

The kids in Room 207 were misbehaving again.
Spitballs stuck to the ceiling.
Paper planes whizzed through the air.
They were the worst-behaved class in the whole school.
“Now settle down,” said Miss Nelson in a sweet voice.
But the class would not settle down.
They whispered and giggled.
They squirmed and made faces.
They were even rude during story hour.
And they always refused to do their lessons.
“Something will have to be done,” said Miss Nelson.
The next morning Miss Nelson did not come to school.
“Wow!” yelled the kids. “Now we can really act up!”
They began to make more spitballs and paper planes.
“Today let’s be just terrible!” they said.
“Not so fast!” hissed an unpleasant voice.
A woman in an ugly black dress stood before them.
“I am your new teacher, Miss Viola Swamp.”
And she rapped the desk with her ruler.
“Where is Miss Nelson?” asked the kids.
“Never mind that!” snapped Miss Swamp. “Open those arithmetic books!”
Miss Nelson’s kids did as they were told.
They could see that Miss Swamp was a real witch.
She meant business.
Right away she put them to work.
And she loaded them down with homework.
“We’ll have no story hour today,” said miss Swamp.
“Keep your mouths shut,” said Miss Swamp.
“Sit perfectly still,” said Miss Swamp.
“And if you misbehave, you’ll be sorry,” said Miss Swamp.
The kids in Room 207 had never worked so hard.
Days went by and there was no sign of Miss Nelson.
The kids missed Miss Nelson.
“Maybe we should try to find her,” they said.
Some of them went to the police.
Detective McSmogg was assigned to the case.
He listened to their story.
He scratched his chin.
“Hmmmm,” he said. “Hmmm.”
“I think Miss Nelson is missing.”
Detective McSmogg would not be much help.
Other kids went to Miss Nelson’s house.
The shades were tightly drawn, and no one answered the door.
In fact, the only person they did see was the wicked Miss Viola Swamp, coming up the street.
“If she sees us, she’ll give us more homework.”
They got away just in time.
Maybe something terrible happened to Miss Nelson!
“Maybe she was gobbled up by a shark!” said one of the kids.
But that didn’t seem likely.
“Maybe Miss Nelson went to Mars!” said another kid.
But that didn’t seem likely either.
“I know!” exclaimed one know-it-all. “Maybe Miss Nelson’s car was carried off by a swarm of angry butterflies!”
But that was the least likely of all.
The kids in Room 207 became very discouraged.
It seemed that Miss Nelson was never coming back.
And they would be stuck with Miss Viola Swamp forever.
They heard footsteps in the hall.
“Here comes the witch,” they whispered.
“Hello, children,” someone said in a sweet voice.
It was Miss Nelson!
“Did you miss me?” she asked.
“We certainly did!” cried all the kids.
“Where were you?”
“That’s my little secret,” said Miss Nelson.
“How about a story hour?”
“Oh yes!” cried the kids.
Miss Nelson noticed that during story hour no one was rude or silly.
“What brought about this lovely change?” she asked.
“That’s our little secret,” said the kids.
Back home Miss Nelson took off her coat and hung it in the closet (right next to an ugly black dress).
When it was time for bed she sang a little song.
“I’ll never tell,” she said to herself with a smile.
P.S. Detective McSmogg is working on a new case.
He is now looking for Miss Voila Swamp.