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“Our most popular author of books for little girls has this year forsaken them, and apparently gone over to the boys, since her book is about a boy; ... but I have yet to see the little girl who would not be glad to read of such a boy as Johnny Blossom.... Although a genuine boy, he is a right-minded little fellow with earnest childlike spirit; and he can never be thoroughly content until he has had his mother’s full forgiveness when he has been naughty, or, if he has wronged any one, until he has made restitution.”,“Such rough shaking, I don’t like. You must pick the apples.”,“Mother! Mother!” shrieked Asta. “Here’s a piece of a finger, with your big shears, lying on the attic stairs!”,Where the precious rod should be put was a momentous question. Unfortunately it was too long to be accommodated in his own room, where he could guard it best.,“Have you come to see me in all this bad weather?” said Jeremias.,“Now that was kind of you,” said Grandmother as she sat once more on the slope in front of the house.,[77]Their boat was a wreck, they found when they came up to it. The after water-tight compartment was completely stove in. This had caused the stern to sink. Two things, however, were in their favor. The front compartment, in which they had stowed their blankets, extra clothing, matches and the transit, was still intact. Also, as the after compartment had held only their canned eatables, the ducking had not hurt them. Few of the cans had fallen out.,A nail was driven in the wall near the one that held the big silver watch, and the Christmas present was hung on it at once in plain sight.,First he went to Madame Bakke, who lived nearest. She had had a long illness and was paler than usual today. Johnny Blossom put his heels together and bowed.,Johnny Blossom could think of nothing more to write about, though he stared long and hard at the walls. His examination report? No, he would not write about that, for there were some 9’s for conduct and some marks for lessons that were not as high as one might wish. No, there was not an atom more to write. So the letter was signed:,Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped.,“Really, it ought,” agreed Asta..