The Little House Read online

  The Little House

  Virginia Lee Burton

  * * *

  To

  Dorgie

  Once upon a time there was a Little House way out in the country.

  She was a pretty Little House and she was strong and well built.

  The Little House was very happy as she sat on the hill and watched the countryside around her. She watched the sun rise in the morning and she watched the sun set in the evening.

  In the nights she watched the moon grow from a thin new moon to a full moon, then back again to a thin old moon; and when there was no moon she watched the stars.

  Way off in the distance she could see the lights of the city.

  The Little House watched the countryside slowly change with the seasons. In the Spring, she waited for the first robin.

  She watched the grass turn green. She watched the buds on the trees swell and the apple trees burst into blossom. She watched the children playing in the brook.

  In the long Summer days she sat in the sun and watched the trees cover themselves with leaves and the white daisies cover the hill. She watched the apples turn red and ripen. She watched the children swimming in the pool.

  In the Fall, she watched the first frost turn the leaves to bright yellow and orange and red.

  She watched the harvest gathered and the apples picked.

  She watched the children going back to school.

  In the Winter, she watched the children coasting and skating. Year followed year.... The apple trees grew old and new ones were planted. Now at night the lights of the city seemed brighter and closer.

  One day the Little House was surprised to see a horseless carriage coming down the winding country road.... Pretty soon there were more of them on the road and fewer carriages pulled by horses.

  Pretty soon along came a steam shovel and it dug a road through the hill covered with daisies.... Then some trucks with tar and sand, and finally a steam roller came and rolled it all smooth, and the road was done.

  Now the Little House watched the trucks and automobiles going back and forth to the city. Gasoline stations ... roadside stands ... and small houses followed the new road. Everyone and everything moved much faster now than before.

  More roads were made, and more houses and bigger houses ... apartment houses and tenement houses ... schools ... stores ... and garages crowded around the Little House.

  No one wanted to live in her and take care of her any more.

  Now it was not so quiet and peaceful at night. Now the lights of the city were bright and very close, and the streetlights shone all night. The Little House missed the field of daisies and the apple trees dancing in the moonlight.

  Pretty soon there were trolley cars going back and forth in front of the Little House all day and part of the night. Everyone seemed to be very busy and everyone seemed to be in a hurry.

  Pretty soon there was an elevated train going back and forth above the Little House. The air was filled with dust and smoke. Now she couldn't tell when Spring came, or Summer or Fall, or Winter.

  It all seemed about the same.

  Pretty soon there was a subway going back and forth underneath the Little House.

  People were moving faster and faster.

  No one noticed the Little House any more. They hurried by without a glance.

  Pretty soon they tore down the apartment houses and tenement houses around the Little House.

  Pretty soon they started building up.... They built up twenty-five stories on one side and thirty-five stories on the other.

  Now the Little House only saw the sun at noon, and didn't see the moon or stars at night at all. At night she used to dream of the country and the field of daisies and the apple trees dancing in the moonlight.

  The Little House was very sad and lonely. Her windows were broken and her shutters hung crookedly. She looked shabby ... though she was just as good a house as ever underneath.

  Then one fine morning in Spring along came the great-great-granddaughter of the man who built the Little House so well. She saw the shabby Little House, but she didn't hurry by.

  She said to her husband, "That looks just like the Little House my grandmother lived in when she was a little girl, only that Little House was way out in the country."

  They found out it was the very same house, so they went to the Movers to see if the Little House could be moved. The Movers said, "Sure, this house is as good as ever. She's built so well we could move her anywhere." So they jacked up the Little House and put her on wheels.

  At first the Little House was frightened, but after she got used to it she rather liked it.

  They rolled along the big road, and they rolled along the little roads, until they were way out in the country. Finally they saw a little hill in the middle of a field ... and apple trees growing around.

  "There," said the great-great-granddaughter, "that's just the place."

  "Yes, it is," said the Little House to herself.

  The windows and shutters were fixed and once again they painted her a lovely shade of pink.

  The Little House smiled happily. Once again she could watch the sun and moon and stars.

  Once again she could watch Spring and Summer and Fall and Winter come and go.

  Once again she was lived in and taken care of.

  The stars twinkled above her.... A new moon was coming up.... It was Spring ... and all was quiet and peaceful in the country.

  Winner of the prestigious Caldecott Medal, The Little House has delighted generations of children. When the little house was first built, she was on a hill in the country surrounded by apple trees. But as the nearby city grew, the little house found her peaceful hill increasingly overcrowded with buildings and people and vehicles. Finally, she fell into disrepair—until one day someone saw in her the little house she once was.

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  Copyright © 1942 by Virginia Lee Demetrios

  Copyright © renewed 1969 by George Demetrios

  All rights reserved. For information about permissions to

  reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions,

  Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company,

  215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

  www.hmhbooks.com

  Printed in China WKT 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

 

 

  Virginia Lee Burton, The Little House

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