Short Stories
scarlet, and began to cry into his tea. However, he was so young
that you must excuse him.
However, he was so young that you must excuse him.”
“Is that the end of the story?” asked the Water-rat.
“Certainly not,” answered the Linnet, “that is the begin-
ning.”
“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the Water-rat.
“Every good story-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then
goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle. That is
the new method. I heard all about it the other day from a critic
who was walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke
of the matter at great length, and I am sure he must have been
right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head, and whenever
the young man made any remark, he always answered ‘Pooh!’
But pray go on with your story. I like the Miller immensely. I
have all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great
sympathy between us.”
“Well,” said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on
the other, “as soon as the winter was over, and the primroses be-
gan to open their pale yellow stars, the Miller said to his wife
that he would go down and see little Hans.
“‘Why, what a good heart you have’! cried his Wife; ‘you are
always thinking of others. And mind you take the big basket
with you for the flowers.’
“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a
strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his
arm.
“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the Miller.
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