The Story of Freginald Read Online Free Page A

don’t. You don’t like me and I don’t like you. I just—”
    â€œHello!” said a voice behind them. “Why, goodness, gracious me, you’re a poet, young bear—a poet! Isn’t he a poet, Leo? Oh, my goodness! This is too much! Here’s a bear whose name is Louise, and he can hop like a rabbit, and now I find he’s a poet. What a find! Leo, tell him what a find he is.”
    â€œMr. Boomschmidt means,” said the lion, “that even more people will come to see a bear who is a poet than a bear whose name is Louise.—Look out, Mr. Boomschmidt, you’ll have that hat off again,” he said hastily, as the showman began pushing his hat back on his forehead.
    â€œThat’s it exactly,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Poetry! That’s what we’ll give ’em! All the signs written in poetry, and recitations at each performance. Madame Delphine told me you wrote poetry, but I thought it was just—well, poetry. I didn’t know it was good. Leo, why don’t you say something? Why don’t you get enthusiastic? Don’t you ever get excited about anything?”
    â€œI am excited,” said the lion. “But I want to know what this little elephant is crying about. Come, come, Louise,” he began soothingly.
    â€œLouithe!” she sniffed. “That’th jutht what I’m crying about! I hate Louithe! I don’t want to be called Louithe! I don’t want the thame name with thith nathty bear! I—”
    â€œThat’s right, sir,” put in the bear. “We don’t like having the same name.” And he explained.
    â€œWell,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “well, I’m sure I don’t know what to say. Do you know what to say, Leo?”
    â€œI should say,” said the lion, “that the names could be changed.”
    â€œI don’t want my name changed,” wailed the elephant. “I want my own name. But I don’t want anybody elthe to have it.”
    Mr. Boomschmidt shook his head. “Thith ith—” he began, then finding that he was lisping, stopped and tried again. “Thith ith tho—” He stopped again. “Oh!” he broke out. “You—Leo— you thay thomething! I’ve lithened to thith elephant—I can’t thpeak without doing the thame thing!”
    â€œYeth, thir,” replied Leo; then realizing that he was lisping too, shut his mouth very tight and, opening his eyes very wide, looked off into the distance for a minute. Then speaking very slowly and sounding his s’s very hard he said: “You—musst—ssend—thiss—elephant—away—while—you—decide—what—iss—to—be—done. If—you—don’t—we’ll—get—to—lissping—sso—we—can’t—talk—at—all.”
    Mr. Boomschmidt nodded; then when he had thought of a sentence without any s’s in it, he patted the elephant on the back and said: “Run along and play. We’ll call you back later. We’ll arrange it.”
    She trotted off, still sniffling gently, and Leo gave a deep sigh and said: “Glad that’s over, chief. I’d have been tongue-tied in another minute. But about these names; this young fellow here-why can’t we change his name?”
    Mr. Boomschmidt looked doubtful. “My goodness, Leo,” he said, “his name is what’s bringing people to the show. A bear named Louise. That’s what they all come to see.”
    â€œQuite right, boss,” said the lion. “But they’ll come to see a bear who’s a poet, even if his name isn’t Louise. What’s in a name, anyway?”
    â€œMy gracious, I don’t know. What is in a name, Leo?”
    â€œNothing but a lot of letters, according to my way of thinking,” said Leo.
    â€œYour way of thinking is a pretty good one, Leo. And there’s