THE STRANGE MOTHERS 
H my! I want my mother, I do!” called 
w Mannie Penguin, standing first on one 
foot and then on the other, and at last toppling 
over in a heap on the ice. 
It’s all right for little folks to be wandering 
about all by themselves when the sun is shining 
brightly. They feel safe enough then and quite 
happy, but when the long shadows begin to 
stretch and stretch and stretch across the ice, and 
it’s getting dark, dark, dark, then they begin to 
think of their mothers, if they have any, and 
Mannie had one. He knew he did. If he only 
could find her. 
“Here, I’ll be your mother,” whispered a 
big motherly Penguin. Mannie looked at her 
and didn’t say anything. He didn’t really 
know whether she was his mother. He only 
knew that her house did not have three red 
stones on the lower side, and three white ones 
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