_New Year._ Frosty night! Fine and clear. I’ve had a pleasant journey.
_Old Year._ Humph! I don’t expect to find _mine_ pleasant. A long cold drive, I call it. But to be sure, I thought it pleasant when I was your age, youngster! Is the sleigh waiting?
_New Year._ Yes, but there is no hurry. Wait a bit and tell me how matters are in these parts.
_Old Year._ [_Shaking his head._] So, so! They might be better and yet they might be worse, too. They were worse before I came, much worse. I have done a great deal. Now I expect you, my boy, to do just as I did. Be a good year all the way through.
_New Year._ I shall do my best, you may be sure. And now tell me a little what there is to do.
_Old Year._ In the first place, you have the weather to attend to. You see the seasons have a way of running into each other and getting mixed, if you don’t keep a sharp lookout on them. The months, too, are a troublesome set. Then you must be careful how you turn on wet and dry weather. And one thing I want you to do very carefully—watch the leaves that are turned.
_New Year._ I thought Autumn attended to that sort of thing!
_Old Year._ Oh, I don’t mean leaves of trees. You know that at the beginning of a year half the people in the world say, “I am going to turn over a new leaf!” They mean that they are going to be better than they have ever been before. But leaves do not stay turned over. I know a great many little boys who said they were going to turn over new leaves. They were not going to tear their clothes, nor lose their jackknives, nor bring mud into the house on their boots. And the little girls were going to keep their rooms tidy and their buttons sewed on. But I haven’t seen much change in most of them.
_New Year._ I’ll attend to that. Anything else?
_Old Year._ Above all, take care of the children. Give them all the good weather you can. And now the horses are ready to go. My time is nearly up, so I start on my long drive. You will find everything in pretty good shape. Well, well, my boy, good-by, good luck to you.
_Mary._ Pussy, aren’t you cold? Don’t look so sad. Come here to me, At home, I’ve kittens two— And I should like—indeed I should To make a friend of you.
_Pussy._ I thank you, Miss, for your kind words, And know they’re gently said; But truth to speak, I do not like That thing upon your head. For much it looks to me as though Your very furry hat, So soft and fine, might once have been A very furry cat. Me-ow! A very furry cat.