Fireside Stories for Girls in Their Teens

by Margaret W. Eggleston

  THE BEST DAY

  By Mrs. Annie G. Freeman

  One sunny summer afternoon Margaret sat reading beneath the shade of anold apple tree. Before her stretched a charming view but on her face was atroubled, dissatisfied look.

  "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Even this book is stupid. It is the dullest, moststupid day that I ever saw."

  "Stupid day?" said a tiny voice. There on the rock before her sat thedaintiest little golden-haired fairy that she had ever seen. The fairy'sfeet were resting on a woodbine vine that was creeping up the wall, andher wings were as delicate as those of a butterfly.

  "What makes such a bright day as this stupid?"

  "Oh, I suppose it is myself," said the discontented girl.

  "I believe it is," said the fairy. "Now I will take you with me to thePalace of Time and you shall choose a day that suits you better. Come."

  Over green meadows, through pleasant pastures, beside babbling brooks thatsparkled and played in the sunshine, the fairy led. At last they came tothe Palace of Time. The fairy led the way up the long hall to the throneon which Time sat, and told her errand.

  "Take the little friend to the Hall of Days," he said, "and give her theday that pleases her best."

  How delighted the maiden was! Wouldn't you be if a fairy should take youout of a stupid day and promise you the day that pleased you most? Shejust skipped along, her feet scarcely touching the ground in her joy. Ina great room filled with all kinds of bright lights, they stopped.

  "This is the Hall of Days," said the fairy. "Take whichever day pleasesyou most."

  Like great balls of glass the days were of many colors and of many kinds.Some were dark and some were light; some were dim and others clear.

  One was like a crystal and the odor of roses seemed to come from it. Itscolors were soft and Margaret gazed deep into it. Vague dreams seemed tocome from it and memories happy and delightful. But she couldn't live ondreams and memories. That wouldn't do. She might like that sort of a dayonce in a while but her young life demanded something to do on the bestday. This was a day that had gone.

  One other day pleased her much. It shone like the sun on the new fallensnow. It was so white and so pure that she lifted it carefully lest sheshould soil and spot it.

  "It is too bright. It hurts my eyes," said she, putting it back.

  "Yes, little girl," said the fairy. "That is to-morrow. It must be shadedby many things before one can bear it."

  Then, just between the two, Margaret spied the most beautiful ball of all.It wavered and shimmered; now it was red, now green, now yellow and nowpink. Oh, there were so many colors that she could not name them all. Waveupon wave of color swept through it and all seemed shot with the goldenlights.

  "That is the one that I want," she cried happily. "That is the mostbeautiful day of all."

  "Take it, then," said the fairy. "It is yours."

  All the way home, the maiden clasped it tightly.

  "With this day," she said, "I can be joyful. With this day I can make somany people happy, and it is so bright that I can see the best way inwhich to go. It is as light as a feather. I can hardly wait to show myfriends the beautiful day that I have chosen, for I love it dearly."

  "Yes, indeed," said the fairy, as she flew off in a different direction."It is a wonderful day. Infinite wisdom and love helped you to choosearight. That is To-day."

  "What a beautiful day!" said the maiden as she sat in the shade of the oldapple tree. "I believe I have been dreaming. But this is too beautiful aday to idle it away. I will go and do something for some one to makeothers see its beauty also."