I sighed. This wasn’t Mr. Finnegan, the leprechaun scheduled to pick up a basket holding a dozen pounds of extra-lucky four-leaf clovers. (My boss, Torquil, had weighed the clovers before he left.) Should’ve looked before opening the door, Althea, I told myself.
Not that it mattered. The dragon’s huge, scaly wings looked plenty strong enough to knock down the door (and maybe the whole building) with one flap aimed in the wrong direction. Its claws and teeth were equally impressive. “May I help you?” I’d asked politely, the way I’d been taught. (And in this case, very politely.)
To be fair, the dragon had been every bit as courteous at first. “Years ago, Torquil the Wise borrowed my scales and forgot to return them. However, I require them back now.”
“I’m afraid he’ll be away for the next few days, but if you’d like to leave a message—”
That’s when the dragon began complaining loudly about how long he’d been waiting already. No, he didn’t want to leave a message. He wanted to leave with his scales. Immediately.
Handing them over would be the sensible thing to do. So why didn’t I? Not because I was scared I’d lose my job. While it’s true I needed the work, being fired by Torquil had to be better than getting “fired” by a dragon.
Esta historia es de la edición October 2019 de Cricket Magazine for Kids.
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Esta historia es de la edición October 2019 de Cricket Magazine for Kids.
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The Tale Of Paddy Ahern
THERE ONCE WAS a lad named Paddy Ahern who trod the green hills of Limerick, Ireland, offering to help farmers with their chores in return for food and lodging.
The Pedestrians
EACH TIME HELGA Estby looked over her shoulder, the big cat was there. Crossing Wyoming’s Red Desert on foot, in the dust and heat of August 1896, was tough.
The Magic Gifts
A Basque Folk Tale
The Dragon's Scales
“THREE YEARS I'VE been waiting, when Torquil promised he’d return them in three days. I’m not waiting three more days to get back what’s mine!” The dragon punctuated his remarks with a smoky snort and a lashing tail.
The Water Bucketre
A Chinese Folk Tale.
Between The Pages
One rainy night, while alone in the castle library with her talking gargoyle, Marcus, Princess Audrey finds a book with the odd title Finding Angel. Meanwhile, in modern times, a girl named Angel is celebrating her thirteenth birthday.
Swim Buddies
I LEAN OVER the side of the catamaran and peer into the crystal blue water. This is my last chance, I think.
The Bushwhackers
I CAN’T ABIDE living one more day in this pigpen!” I groaned and rolled out of bed to pull on my dress.
As American as Appleless Pie!
NOTHING IS MORE American than the humble apple pie. There’s even an old saying to prove it: “as American as apple pie.” So it may come as a surprise that many early settlers who forged the trails of our expanding nation were often without apples to make this most American of desserts. As pioneers headed west in pursuit of territory and gold, they had to leave many things behind, including apples. Not only did life on the trail make fresh fruit like apples hard to carry and keep, apple trees were native only to the east coast, which made finding apples in the West nearly impossible.
The Man Who Built A Better Leg
THE CIVIL WAR was only a few weeks old when seven hundred and fifty Confederate recruits gathered in the fields around Philippi, Virginia. It was early June 1861, and as yet there had been no real battles. The men had eagerly volunteered, but most had no training as soldiers. Their only weapons were the ones they brought from home— old-fashioned flintlock muskets, cap and ball pistols, and a few shotguns.
