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THE OLD MAN'S BAG

T. W. H. CROSLAND AND J. R. MONSELL

The Dumpy Books for Children

NO. 22. THE OLD MAN'S BAG.


THE DUMPY BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.

_Cloth, Royal 32 mo, 1/6 each._

    I. The Flamp, the Ameliorator, and the Schoolboy's Apprentice. By
       E. V. LUCAS.

   II. Mrs. Turner's Cautionary Stories. Edited by E. V. LUCAS.

  III. The Bad Family. By MRS. FENWICK. Edited by E. V. LUCAS.

   IV. The Story of Little Black Sambo. Illustrated in Colours. By
       HELEN BANNERMAN.

    V. The Bountiful Lady. By THOMAS COBB.

   VI. A Cat Book. Portraits by H. OFFICER SMITH. Text by E. V. LUCAS.

  VII. A Flower Book. Illustrated in Colours by NELLIE BENSON. Text by
       EDEN COYBEE.

 VIII. The Pink Knight. Illustrated in Colours by J. R. MONSELL.

   IX. The Little Clown. By THOMAS COBB.

    X. A Horse Book. Illustrated in Colours. By MARY TOURTEL.

   XI. Little People: An Alphabet. Illustrated in Colours by HENRY
       MAYER. Verses by T. W. H. CROSLAND.

  XII. A Dog Book. Illustrated in Colours by CARTON MOORE PARK. Text by
       ETHEL BICKNELL.

 XIII. The Adventures of Samuel and Selina. Illustrated in Colours by
       JEAN C. ARCHER.

  XIV. The Little Girl Lost. By ELEANOR RAPER.

   XV. Dollies. Illustrated in Colours by RUTH COBB. Verses by RICHARD
       HUNTER.

  XVI. The Bad Mrs. Ginger. Illustrated in Colours by HONOR C. APPLETON.

 XVII. Peter Piper's Practical Principles. Illustrated in Colours.

XVIII. Little White Barbara. Illustrated in Colours by ELEANOR S. MARCH.

  XIX. The Japanese Dumpy Book. Illustrated in Colours by YOSHIO MARKINO.

   XX. Towlocks and His Wooden Horse. Illustrated in Colours by HONOR
       C. APPLETON. Text by ALICE M. APPLETON.

  XXI. The Three Little Foxes. By MARY TOURTEL. Illustrated in Colours.

 XXII. The Old Man's Bag. By T. W. H. CROSLAND. Illustrated in Colours
       by J. R. MONSELL.

XXIII. The Three Goblins. By M. E. TAGGART. Illustrated in Colours.

_A Cloth Case to contain Twelve Volumes can be had, price 2s. net; or
the First Twelve Volumes in Case, price £1 net._

LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS,
48 Leicester Square.




[Illustration: The old man went for a walk and took the bag with him.]



THE OLD MAN'S BAG



By

T. W. H. CROSLAND



PICTURES BY

J. R. MONSELL



LONDON:
GRANT RICHARDS
1903




ILLUSTRATIONS.


THE OLD MAN WENT FOR A WALK            _Frontispiece_

                                                 PAGE

THE OLD MAN SAID "CHUCK, CHUCK!"                    2

THE RED POLICEMAN RAN AFTER HIM                     7

"WHATEVER ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?"                    10

SHE TOOK THE BAG DOWN                              15

"BUTTER IS CHEAP TO-DAY"                           18

"YOU ARE A VERY FOOLISH OLD WOMAN"                 23

WHO SHOULD STEP IN BUT THE RED POLICEMAN           26

"PLEASE MEASURE ME FOR A SOLDIER'S SUIT"           31

HE BEGAN TO STRUT ABOUT                            42

THE OLD WOMAN WAS KNOCKING APPLES OFF A TREE       47

BURNT THE PIECES ON THE FIRE                       58




THE OLD MAN'S BAG.




CHAPTER I.


The old man lived in a wood. He had a wife and a bag. The bag was quite
a large bag. One day the old man went out for a walk. He took the bag
with him. By and by he saw a hen in a field. Now when you see a hen in
a field you say "Chuck, chuck!" The old man said "Chuck, chuck!" And
the hen came to him. So that he caught her by the neck and put her in
his bag. She made a great to-do, but he put her in.

[Illustration: The old man said "Chuck, chuck!" and the hen came to
him.]

On his way home, just as he turned a corner, the old man saw a
policeman. The policeman had a red suit. He was one of those policemen
who wear red suits because they are tired of wearing blue. The red
policeman looked very hard at the old man and very hard at his bag. In
fact he looked so very very hard that the old man got frightened and
turned round and ran away.

Of course the red policeman ran after him. When they had run about five
miles the old man dropped his bag in order that he might run quicker.
The red policeman had made up his mind to catch him; so that he did not
stop to pick up the bag but kept on running after the old man. At
length when they had run about ten miles he caught him.

[Illustration: The red policeman ran after him.]

"Now, sir," said the red policeman, "what have you got in that bag?"

"Nothing," said the old man.

"Oh, you wicked old person," said the red policeman. "You know
perfectly well that you have a hen in it. But you must come back with
me, and we will soon find out."

So the red policeman took the old man back to the place where he had
dropped the bag. The bag was there, and the red policeman picked it up
and opened it with great care. But the hen had got away. There was a
big hole in the corner of the bag, and through this the hen had
squeezed herself and run home as fast as ever she could. When the
policeman found that the bag was empty he looked much puzzled. The old
man for his part smiled a great deal. "I told you there was nothing in
it," he said.

The red policeman said, "Well, I expect I shall have to let you go this
time. BUT MIND YOU DON'T DO IT AGAIN."

And the old man went home quite cheerfully with his bag under his arm.




CHAPTER II.


When the old man got home to his house in the wood he hung the bag up
tidily on a nail. Then he sat down in a chair and began to laugh. He
laughed for nearly a quarter of an hour by the clock. At length his
wife came in to him from the garden and said,

"Whatever are you laughing at?"

[Illustration: "Whatever are you laughing at?"]

"Oh," replied the old man, holding his sides, "I am so amused!" Then he
went on laughing. He laughed so much indeed that the tears came into
his eyes and he nearly choked. His wife had to pat his back and give
him a drink of water to put him right.

Then he told her what had happened. How he had put a hen in his bag,
how the red policeman had run after him, how he dropped the bag and let
the policeman catch him, and how when the policeman took him back to
the bag, the hen was gone.

"Did she open the bag and fly away?" said the old woman.

"No," said the old man. "She got out through that hole in the corner."

"Ah," said the old woman, "I must sew up that hole."

And she took the bag down from its nail and sewed up the hole. For she
was a very neat woman and she did not like to see holes in bags.

[Illustration: She took the bag down and sewed up the hole.]




CHAPTER III.


The next day was market day. On market day people who have butter or
cheese to sell take it into the market to sell it. And people who have
money and happen to want butter or cheese go into the market to buy it.
The old man's wife had nothing to sell. Neither had she any money. But
she wanted some butter very badly. So she took the old man's bag off
the nail and carried it to market. She walked round the market with the
bag under her arm and looked at all the stalls and enquired how much
the strawberries were a pound; but she did not buy anything because she
had no money. In a little while she came to a stall on which there were
six rolls of fine fresh butter, and in front of them was a card on
which the man who brought the butter to market had written--

    BUTTER IS CHEAP TO-DAY.

[Illustration: "Butter is cheap to-day!"]

"I am glad butter is cheap to-day," said the old woman to herself, and
when the man who had brought the butter to market was not looking she
picked up a roll and dropped it into her bag. Then she ran away as fast
as she could.

When she got round the corner the red policeman saw her. He shouted
out, "What have you got in that bag?"

"Nothing," said the old woman, still running.

But the policeman kept running after her. When they had run about five
miles the old woman dropped the bag, so that she might run quicker. The
policeman, however, had made up his mind to catch her, and when they
had run about ten miles he caught her.

"Now," he said, "you must come back with me to your bag, and we will
see if there is anything in it." The old man's wife said that she was
sure there was nothing in it. "All right," said the policeman, "but if
you don't mind we will go back and see." So they went back to the bag,
and the policeman opened it with great care. Inside he found the roll
of butter.

The old man's wife began to cry. "Oh dear, oh dear," she said, "what a
pity it is that I sewed up that hole."

"Why?" asked the red policeman.

"Because if I had not sewn up the hole the butter might have got out,
like my husband's hen."

"You are a very foolish old woman," said the policeman. "Do you not
know that a roll of butter cannot walk like a hen?"

[Illustration: "You are a very foolish old woman."]

"Is that really so?" said the old woman. "Well, well. But I have seen
butter run when it was melted."

"Never mind that," said the red policeman, "you will have to come with
me to prison."

"I am too busy to go with you just now," said the old woman, "and my
husband wants the butter for his tea. But if you like to call for me in
the morning and the weather is fine I will come with you with
pleasure."

"You are very polite," said the red policeman. "If you had been rude I
should have made you go with me now. As it is I will call for you in
the morning providing it doesn't rain."

"Thank you so much," said the old woman.

And she shook the red policeman warmly by the hand and went off to her
husband.




CHAPTER IV.


When she got home the old man was sat in his chair by the fire. She
could see by his face that he was in a bad temper. But she went up to
him and kissed him and said, "Please don't be grumpy, for I have
brought you something very nice for your tea."

"What is it?" said the old man, "a hen?"

"No," she said, "people don't have hens for tea, do they?"

"Perhaps not," said the old man. "But if you had brought a hen she
might have laid an egg, and I could have had that. You know very well
that I am fond of new laid eggs."

"New laid eggs are all very fine," said the old woman, "but butter is
cheap to-day. I have brought you a beautiful fresh roll."

The old man smacked his lips.

While they were having tea the old woman began to laugh very much.

"What are you laughing at?" said the old man. "Did you meet the red
policeman?"

"Yes, I did," said the old woman.

"And did he catch you?"

"Yes, he did," said the old woman.

"And he let you go?"

"Yes, he did," said the old woman.

"Why?"

"Because I was polite to him," said the old woman.

"Well I never," said the old man.

"But he is coming for me in the morning, providing the weather is
fine," said the old woman.

The old man sat still in his chair and thought a great deal.

And by and by he said, "If you had asked the red policeman to tea like
a sensible woman he might have let you off altogether."

"I shall know better next time," said the old woman.




CHAPTER V.


When the old man and his wife woke up next morning they looked out of
the window and saw that the weather was quite fine. The old man began
to whistle and sing. He always did this when the weather was fine
because he said fine weather always made him feel in such good spirits.
In a little while the old woman began to sing too. Then the old man
stopped.

"What are you singing for?" he said to the old woman.

"I feel in such good spirits," the old woman replied.

"Oh, you do, do you?" said the old man. "You appear to forget that the
red policeman is coming for you."

"Oh dear, oh dear," said the old woman. "What a bad memory I have to be
sure. Whatever shall I do?" And she burst into tears.

"There, there," said the old man, "don't cry. We will give him sixpence
when he calls, and ask him to have a piece of bread and butter with jam
on it. Then perhaps he will go away."

They went downstairs and had breakfast. They had just finished when
there came an awfully loud knock at the door. The old woman went very
pale.

"It is the red policeman," she said.

The old man went to open the door. But the old woman pulled him back.

"You are forgetting the sixpence," she said, "and the piece of bread
and butter with jam on it."

"Of course, of course," said the old man, and he felt in his pocket for
sixpence while the old woman cut a nice large thick slice of bread and
covered it with butter and jam.

"Perhaps after all," said the old man, "we had better not open the
door, but hand the policeman the sixpence and the bread and butter with
jam on it through the window."

So he opened the window a little way and held out the sixpence and the
bread and butter with jam on it to the person outside.

"Thanks very much," said the person outside. And he put the sixpence in
his pocket and began to eat the bread and butter with jam on it. And
when he had finished eating he knocked again very loudly at the door.

"Go away," said the old man. "My wife is not coming out with you
to-day."

"I don't want your wife to come out with me," said the person at the
door; "I have called to look at the gas meter."

"We haven't got a gas meter now," said the old man, "we burn nothing
but electric light."

"Many, many thanks," said the person at the door, and he went away.

"I feel all of a flutter," said the old woman, sinking into a chair.

"So do I," said the old man. "And he has got my sixpence too."




CHAPTER VI.


In a little while the old woman began to put the breakfast things away.
Afterwards she took up the table-cover and went out into the garden
with it to shake off the bread crumbs. As she stepped out of the door
who should step in but the red policeman. The old woman trembled very
much when she saw him go in, and she shook the table-cover several
times over in order that she might think what to say to the red
policeman. Just then it began to rain. The old woman ran into the house
at once.

[Illustration: Who should step in but the red policeman.]

"Good morning, madam," said the red policeman, and he made a nice bow.

"Good morning, sir," said the old woman. "What, might I ask, brings you
here?"

"I have called, madam," replied the red policeman, making another bow,
"for the purpose of taking you with me to prison for stealing a roll of
butter."

"Where is the roll of butter?" said the old woman.

The policeman looked very hard at the butter dish, but there was no
butter on it. The old man and his wife and the gas-man had eaten it
all.

"I beg your pardon, I am sure," said the policeman.

"The idea!" said the old woman. "Besides you said you would not call
this morning unless the weather were fine, and you see for yourself
that it is now raining cats and dogs."

"I am truly sorry, madam," said the policeman, bowing once more. "When
I come to think of it, I did say that I would not call if it rained.
Pray forgive me. We all make mistakes sometimes, you know."

"I don't like such mistakes," said the old woman. "Now kindly leave the
house."

"Oh, please don't turn me out," said the red policeman, "it is raining
very hard indeed, and I might get my feet wet."

"We should always be kind," said the old woman, "even to policemen, and
as it is raining and I left my umbrella in an omnibus the other day, I
will lend you my sunshade. But please go."

The old woman put the sunshade into the policeman's hand. He looked at
it very hard.

"It is a blue one," he said. "It is not fashionable to wear a blue
sunshade with a red suit. Thank you all the same, but I think I will go
without it."

He went.

The old man, who had been quietly laughing to himself, danced about
with joy when he saw the policeman leave. Then he ran to the window and
put his head out, and called out after the policeman, "I say. When your
clothes are quite wet enough be sure you come back and have them
dried."

But the red policeman took no notice of him.




CHAPTER VII.


The red policeman got so wet that by the time he reached his house all
the dye had come out of his suit. He felt very angry indeed.

"I must try not to make mistakes," he said, "sometimes they bring one
into fearful trouble. As my suit is spoilt I think I will give up being
a policeman. A policeman without a suit is no good at all."

So he went to bed and had hot bricks to his feet and a mustard plaster
on his chest, and sent for the tailor to measure him for a new suit of
clothes.

When the tailor came the policeman said to him, "I am quite tired of
being a policeman, and I think I should now like to be a soldier.
Please measure me for a soldier's suit. The coat you will make of green
cloth and the trousers must be yellow."

[Illustration: "Please measure me for a soldier's suit."]

"But," said the tailor, "soldiers wear scarlet coats and blue
trousers."

"That is just the point," said the policeman. "I don't want to be like
all the others. If I did I should go in for khaki. Just you do what I
tell you, and make me a green coat and yellow trousers at once."

The tailor said, "Yes, sir," and went away.

In a few days he called again, bringing with him a yellow coat and
green trousers. The policeman could have cried with disappointment.

"Didn't I tell you quite plainly that I wanted a green coat and yellow
trousers?"

"I am truly sorry, sir," said the tailor, "but as you no doubt know,
the best of us make mistakes sometimes."

"There is something in that," said the policeman, "and if the suit fits
me I will forgive you."

Then he went into his dressing-room and put on the yellow coat and the
green trousers. They fitted him beautifully. So that he forgave the
tailor, and sent round to him to say that he would try to pay his bill
when he got some money.

[Illustration: He began to strut about in his new clothes.]

After looking at himself a good deal in the mirror the policeman went
out into the street and began to strut about in his new clothes. "This
is much better than being a policeman," he said, "a policeman has
little to do, but a soldier has nothing to do till he is sent for to
fight. By the way I must go and buy a sword, and then I will go up to
the old man's house and let him see me in my new clothes. Perhaps he
will give me two halfpennies to put in the pockets."

He bought his sword at the toy shop and went straight to the old man's
house. When he got there the old woman was in the garden knocking
apples off a tree with a clothes prop. No sooner did she see the
policeman in his yellow coat and green trousers than she ran screaming
into the house, and hid herself under the bed.

[Illustration: The old woman was knocking apples off a tree.]

But when the old man saw him he shouted, "Hurrah, hurrah, the red
policeman has turned soldier. Now we needn't be afraid of him any
more."

And he called upstairs to his wife, "Come down at once and get me my
bag."

The old woman came downstairs quickly. She took down the bag from its
nail and handed it to her husband. "Run," she said, "as hard as you
can, and bring me a hen and anything else nice that takes your fancy.
Bags were made to put things in. And the red policeman--the soldier,
that is to say--will stay to dinner."

The soldier sat down in the chair and lit his pipe, and the old man
went out with the bag. Very soon he returned with two hens, a fat duck,
several rolls of butter, a large piece of bacon, some cabbages, some
ice cream, and two pots of marmalade.

The old woman cooked everything but the ice cream and the marmalade,
and they had a very good dinner indeed.

"This is much better than being a policeman," said the soldier when
they had finished.

"I should just think it was," said the old man.

"And so should I," said the old woman.

"Now I must wish you both good evening," said the soldier, "for I hear
the bugle calling."




CHAPTER VIII.


When a soldier hears the bugle calling he is bound to go even if he
would like to have stayed for supper. That is why the soldier went.

"I am glad I am not a soldier," said the old man, "because I do not
have to go when the bugle calls."

"No," said the old woman, "but you have to go when I tell you, which is
pretty much the same thing."

"Perhaps it is," said the old man.

"And I think," said the old woman, "that it might be just as well for
you to go out this evening with the bag and get a few nice little
things for breakfast and dinner to-morrow. For when you come to think
of it there is no reason why the soldier should not take it into his
head to be a red policeman again, and if he did he would run after us
when he saw us with the bag. So that we had better get what we want
before he changes his mind."

"A very good idea, my dear," said the old man, "give me the bag and I
will go out at once."

The old woman gave him the bag and off he went.

He was away a very long time. Indeed he did not get back till nearly
midnight. When he set the bag down on the table the old woman could see
that he had got a good many things, because the bag bulged so.

"How good of you," she said. "Now show me what you have got."

Then the old man opened the bag. First he pulled out a pretty little
kitten with her mother, an old grey cat.

"Very nice," said the old woman, "but we can't cook them."

"You cooked the hens," said the old man.

Then he pulled out a pillow case full of hay.

"Quite nice," said the old woman, "but we can't cook it."

"You cooked the cabbages," said the old man.

Then he pulled out a box full of pieces of broken glass.

"Beautiful!" said the old woman, "but we can't eat it."

"You ate the marmalade fast enough," said the old man.

Then the old woman said, "If you go on talking so foolishly I shall be
very cross. Turn that cat and her kitten out at once, burn the hay, and
throw the broken glass out of the window."

"And what shall I do with the bag?" said the old man.

"You can do just as you please with the bag," said the old woman; "I am
going to bed."

And off she went.

The old man opened the door and turned out the cat and her kitten. Then
he burnt the hay a little bit at a time on the fire, and threw the
broken glass out of the window.

After doing this he sat down in his chair to think. "What shall I do
with the bag?" he said to himself. "My wife said I might do what I
pleased with it. Perhaps I had better burn it."

So he cut it in pieces with a knife, and burnt the pieces on the fire.

[Illustration: Burnt the pieces on the fire.]

In the morning when the old woman came downstairs to breakfast she
looked on the nail for the bag, but of course it was not there.

"What have you done with the bag?" she called to the old man.

"I have burnt it," said the old man.

"Why did you burn it?" said the old woman.

"Guess," said the old man.

The old woman guessed and guessed and guessed and guessed and guessed.

But she could not guess right, and the old man had to keep on saying,
"Guess again, guess again, guess again."

Now why did the old man burn his bag?

You must get your Mamma to tell you.