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STORIES BY 'm# PICTURES BY
HAROLD 8. LEE LIBRARY BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY
PROVO, UTAH
Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from
Brigham Young University
https://archive.org/details/goodynaughtybookOOripp
1
f
The Goody-Naughty Book
THE GOODY SIDE
By
SARAH CORY RIPPEY
With illustrations by
BLANCHE FISHER WRIGHT
RAND McNALLY & COMPANY
CHICAGO NEW YORK
Copyright, 1913,
By Rand McNally & Company
Chicago
THE I * BRIGHAJV, y« L
PROVO,
BRARY
C u IVERSITY UTAH G-21
THE CONTENTS
Honor Bright, President
Rose-Red and Ruthie ....
The Tree Game.
Billy Boy’s Magic Key ....
Polly’s New April Fool
The Three B’s.
Teddy’s Helpers ......
The Red-Letter Day ....
PAGE
9
ii
H
16
18
23
26
30
7
o
Honor Bright faithfully fed all his pets
HONOR BRIGHT, PRESIDENT
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.
9
“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 presi¬
dent, 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.
IO
Every day Rose-Red cut fresh flowers and arranged them for the house
ROSE-RED AND RUTHIE
It was Rose Mary’s mother who named her
Rose-Red. Rose-Ready, it was at first, be¬
cause 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.
ii
Rose-Red's mamma gathered her up in her arms and comforted her
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 fin¬
ger “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
12
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.
13
THE TREE GAME
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,” Mar¬
garet 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!
14
How Tessa's little brown legs did flash back and forth!
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 car¬
ried 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.
15
BILLY BOY’S MAGIC KEY
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.”
16
She plunged her hand deep down in her pocket and drew out
a bright new nickel
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.
17
POLLY’S NEW APRIL FOOL
“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 did n’t in the least mind being
fooled, and she laughed just as hard as any¬
body when she put salt on her mush instead
of sugar.
18
will, rolling and folding She fell to work with a
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. Red¬
breast,” 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.”
19
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?”
20
“Help her-r-r! Cheer her-r-r!" sang Mr. Redbreast
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 was n’t listening. She stood
quietly thinking for a moment, then she picked
21
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.
22
He started for the house with an armful of wood
THE THREE B’s
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 remem¬
bered 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 are n’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 mem¬
bers 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.
24
“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 had n’t used
it yourself?”
Ned smiled shyly, and B Number Two was
written all over his face as he slowly sipped
his lemonade.
TEDDY’S HELPERS
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 ques¬
tion 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
26
How the snow did fly as he dug and scraped and shoveled 1
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 morn¬ ing 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,
4 27
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 morn¬
ing, 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
28
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 quar¬
ters 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 bright¬
ly than either—did Teddy.
29
THE RED-LETTER DAY
“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.
30
“/ didn't tell her about the red-letter part” she explained, as she beat and stirred
“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.
31
TURN OVER
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BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY
3 1197 20546 2176
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DATE DUE
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APR 13
,VM ' ®
IT
1992
DEMCO 38-297
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