e old man began as follows:--

"It was on a dark winter's night, and the hot sun was pouring down upon
the----"

"Oh!" interrupted Marjorie, "I beg your pardon, but haven't you made a
mistake? It couldn't have been dark, you know, if the sun was shining."

The Sage frowned severely.

"Are you telling this story, or am I?" he asked, coldly.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Marjorie, "please go on."

"Was pouring down upon the ship," continued the Sage, "and almost
freezing the poor soldiers, who had great difficulty as it was, in
dragging the heavy cannon up the steep side of the mountain, upon which
he was standing; still leaning over the side of the balloon, she peered
down eagerly into the sky. There was not a soul in sight.

"Suddenly a cry of 'Fire!' rang through the town, and two or three of
them hastily putting on their best clothes, joined the picnic party
under the gnarled oak tree in the meadow, and their joyous laughter rang
merrily down the old staircase, where the grandfather's clock stood,
tick-tick-ticking, like the great volcano which yawned at their very
feet, and into which the two boys plunged merrily, and were soon
splashing about in the shallow water like a mahogany chest of drawers
upon the sands of time."

The Sage paused.

"Do you like it?" he inquired, anxiously.

"Not much, I'm afraid," said Dick. "You see, we can't quite understand
what it's all about."

"Well, neither do I," said the Sage, "because, you know, I'm making it
up as I go along."

"Then it isn't true?" asked Marjorie.

"True? Nonsense! You wanted a story, didn't you? This is a real story;
there isn't a particle of truth in it anywhere."

"Oh, we didn't mean that kind of story," explained Marjorie, "we meant a
tale."

"What kind of a tale would you like--a Fishes' tale, a Birds' tale, or
an Animals' tale?"

"A birds' tale, please," said Marjorie, after consulting the others.

"All right," said the Sage, "this is a lot of birds' tales all tied up
together, and is called a fable----"

[Illustration: "The gossiping goose."]

"Is it one of AEsop's?" asked Dick, who thought that it would look grand
for him to have heard of AEsop's fables.

"No, it isn't," said the Sage, rather crossly; "it's one of my own! Now
then, are you ready? I call it--"

"THE GOSSIPING GOOSE."

"A Crested Grebe, a Spoonbill, and a Goose,
I beg to say,
Met one fine day,
And compliments were pa