<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span></p>
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<h2><SPAN name="THE_BAD_GIRL" id="THE_BAD_GIRL"></SPAN>THE BAD GIRL.</h2>
<p>She was always called the bad girl, for she had
once, when she was very little, put out her
tongue at the postman. She lived alone with her
grandmother and her three brothers in the cottage
beyond the field, and the girls in the village took no
notice of her. The bad girl did not mind this, for
she was always thinking of the cuckoo clock. The
clock stood in one corner of the cottage, and every
hour a door opened at the top of its face, and a
little cuckoo came out and called its name just the
same number of times that the clock ought to have
struck, and called it so loudly and in so much haste
that the clock was afraid to strike at all. The bad
girl was always wondering whether it was worse for
the clock to have a cupboard in its forehead, and a
bird that was always hopping in and out, or for the
poor cuckoo to spend so much time in a dark little
prison. "If it could only get away to the woods,"
she said to herself, "who knows but its voice might
grow sweet, and even life itself might come to it!"
She thought of the clock so much that her grandmother
used to say—</p>
<p>"Ah, lassie, if you would only think of me sometimes!"
But the bad girl would answer—</p>
<p>"You are not in prison, granny dear, and you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span>
have not even a bee in your bonnet, let alone a bird
in your head. Why should I think of you?"</p>
<p>One day, close by the farm, she saw the big girls
from the school gathering flowers.</p>
<p>"Give me one," she said; "perhaps the cuckoo
would like it." But they all cried, "No, no!" and
tried to frighten her away. "They are for the
little one's birthday. To-morrow she will be seven
years old," they said, "and she is to have a crown
of flowers and a cake, and all the afternoon we shall
play merry games with her."</p>
<p>"Is she unhappy, that you are taking so much
trouble for her?" asked the bad girl.</p>
<p>"Oh, no; she is very happy: but it will be her
birthday, and we want to make her happier."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Because we love her," said one;</p>
<p>"Because she is so little," said another;</p>
<p>"Because she is alive," said a third.</p>
<p>"Are all things that live to be loved and cared
for?" the bad girl asked, but they were too busy to
listen, so she went on her way thinking; and it
seemed as if all things round—the birds, and bees,
and the rustling leaves, and the little tender wild
flowers, half hidden in the grass—answered, as she
went along—</p>
<p>"Yes, they are all to be cared for and made
happier, if it be possible."</p>
<p>"The cuckoo clock is not alive," she thought.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span>
"Oh, no; it is not alive," the trees answered;
"but many things that do not live have voices,
and many others are just sign-posts, pointing the
way."</p>
<p>"The way! The way to what, and where?"</p>
<p>"We find out for ourselves;—we must all find
out for ourselves," the trees sighed and whispered
to each other.</p>
<p>As the bad girl entered the cottage, the cuckoo
called out its name eleven times, but she did not
even look up. She walked straight across to the
chair by the fireside, and kneeling down, kissed her
granny's hands.</p>
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