Here Mr Potts Come Here You Little

I Do Love The Beginning Of The Summer Hols,' Said Julian. They Always Seem To Stretch Out Ahead For Ages And Ages.' 'they Go So Nice And Slowly At First,' Said Anne, His Little Sister. 'then They Start To Gallop.

Here Mr Potts Come Here You Little Idiot!

Writing For Children Is An Art In Itself, And A Most Interesting One.

Mothers Were Much Too Sharp. They Were Like Dogs. Buster Always Sensed When Anything Was Out Of The Ordinary, And So Did Mothers. Mothers And Dogs Both Had A Kind Of Second Sight That Made Them See Into People's Minds And Know When Anything Unusual Was Going On.

The Secret Island Had Looked Mysterious Enough On The Night They Had Seen It Before - But Now, Swimming In The Hot June Haze, It Seemed More Enchanting Than Ever. As They Drew Near To It, And Saw The Willow Trees That Bent Over The Water-edge And Heard The Sharp Call Of Moorhens That Scuttled Off, The Children Gazed In Delight. Nothing But Trees And Birds And Little Wild Animals. Oh, What A Secret Island, All For Their Very Own, To Live On And Play On.