The skipping Shoes

The skipping Shoes - Written by Lousia May Alcott

My name is Kitty, and I never wanted to do what people asked me. I would say, "I won't" and "I can't."

One day, my mother gave me a pair of new shoes; and after a fuss about putting them on, I said, as I lay kicking on the floor, "I wonder why I need to wear these silly shoes."

Just as I said that, the shoes gave a skip, and set me on my feet so suddenly that it scared all the mischief out of me. I stood looking at the curious shoes. Before I dared to stir, my mother called from the next room, "Kitty, run and tell the cook to bake pie for dinner; I forgot to do it."

"I don't want to," I began, with a 'whine as usual. But the words were hardly out of my mouth when the shoes gave one and swoosh... they took me downstairs, through the hall, and jump

landed me at the kitchen door. I was huffing for breath; but I gave the message, and turned round, trying to see if the shoes would let me walk at all.

Now, in a seriously funny situation, I found that my feet were fixed fast to the floor, and could not be moved till my father said, as he passed the window close by, "Do you have time to go to the post- office before school and get my letters?"

"I can't," I began; but found I could, for away went the shoes. "I can't stop!" I cried; and I did not till the shoes took me straight into the post-office.

"I won't tell anyone about these dreadful shoes, and I'll take them off as soon as I get home," I said to myself, as I took the letters and went away.

"I won't wear these horrid things another minute," I said, sitting on the doorstep and trying to unbutton the shoes.

But not a button could I move, though I got red and angry, struggling to do so!

"Time for school; run away, little girl," called mamma from upstairs, as the clock struck nine.

"I won't!" I said, 'crossly.

But I did; for those magic shoes danced me off, and landed me at my desk in five minutes.

"Well, I'm not late; that's one comfort," I thought.

My legs so tired with the long skips that I was glad to sit still; and that pleased the teacher, for generally I was fussing about all through the lesson. But at recess I got into trouble again; for one of the children knocked down the house of corn-cobs I had built, and made me angry.

"Now, I'll kick yours down, and see how you like it, Dolly."

Up went my foot, but it didn't come down; it stayed in the air, and there I stood looking as if I were going to dance. The children murmured and laughed to see me, and I could do nothing till I said to Dolly in a great hurry, "Never mind; if you didn't mean to, I'll forgive you."

Then the foot went down, and I felt so glad about it that I tried to be pleasant, fearing some new adventure with those dreadful shoes. I began to see how they worked, and thought I would check if I had any power over them. My only choice was to be pleasant to people. So, when one of the children wanted his ball, which had bounced over the 'hedge, I said kindly, "Perhaps, I can get it for you, Willy?"

And, over I jumped as lightly as if I too were a rubber ball. "How could you do that?" cried the boys, much surprised; for not one of them dared try such a high leap.

I laughed, and began to dance, feeling pleased and proud to find there was a good side to the shoes after all. Such "twirling and skipping as I made such pretty steps and airy little bounds, it was pretty to see; for it seemed as if my feet were 'bewitched, and went off themselves. The little girls were charmed, and tried to imitate me, but no one could, and they stood in a circle watching me dance till the bell rang, then all rushed in to talk about it.

I said it was my new shoes, and never told anybody how 'queerly they acted, hoping to have good times now. But I was mistaken.

"How this child does rush about to-day!" said my mother. "It is so delightful to have such a quick little errand-girl that I shall get her to carry some bundles to my poor people this afternoon."

"Oh, dear me! I do hate to lug those old clothes and bottles and baskets of cold "victuals round. Must I do it?" I sighed, "dismally, while the shoes tapped on the floor under the table, as if to remind me that I must, whether I liked it or not.

"It would be right and kind, and would please me very much. But you may do as you choose about it. I am very tired, and someone must go; for the little baby Bryan is sick and needs what I send," said mamma, looking disappointed.

I sat very still and sober for some time, and no one spoke to me. I was making up my mind whether I would go pleasantly or be whisked about like a grasshopper against my will. When dinner was grove over, I said in a cheerful voice, "I'll go, mamma; and when all the errands are done, may I come back through Fairyland, as we call the little where the tall ferns grow?" And mom agreed happily.

The shoes went quietly along, and seemed to know just where to stop. The sick baby's mother thanked me for the soft little nightgowns; the lame girl smiled when she saw the books; the hungry children gathered round the basket of food and smiled to me.

When all the errands were done, I skipped away to Fairyland. "I wonder if the shoes will let me stop and rest; it is so cool here, and I'm so tired," I said, as I came to a cosy nook at the foot of a tree. The words were hardly out of my mouth when my feet folded under me, and there I sat on a cushion of moss, like the queen of the wood on her throne. I met a cricket who told me that it was the fairies and angels giving power to my shoes on that midsummer's day. It would be over with the sunset.

Just at that minute, a clock struck and away went the shoes over the pool, the hill, the road, till they "pranced in at the gate as the tea-bell rang. I amused the family by telling them what I had done and seen; but no one believed the Fairyland part, and my father said, laughing, "Go on, my dear, making up little stories, and by and by you may be as famous as Hans Christian Andersen, whose books you like so well."

By the time I was ready to undress the sun was quite gone, and the shoes I took off were common ones again, for the midsummer day was over. But I never forgot the little lessons I had learned: I tried to run errands willingly when spoken to; I remembered the pretty steps and danced like a fairy; and best of all, I always loved the innocent and interesting little creatures in the woods and fields, and whenever I was told I might go to play with them, I hurried away almost as quickly as if I still wore the -skipping shoes.