Once upon a time, four boys lived in the countryside. One boy was very clever but he did not like books. His name was Good Sense. The other boys were not very clever but they read every book in the school. When they became grown men, they decided to go out into the world to earn their livelihood.

They left home and came to a forest where they halted for the night. When they woke up in the morning, they found the bones of a lion. Three of them, who had learnt their books well at school, decided to make a lion out of the bones.

Good Sense told them, “A lion is a dangerous animal. It will kill us. Don’t make a lion.” But the three disregarded his advice and started making a lion. Good Sense was very clever. When his friends were busy making the lion, he climbed up a tree to save himself. No sooner had the three young men created the lion and gave it life, than it pounced upon them and ate them up. Good Sense climbed down the tree and went home very sadly.

Once upon a time, four boys lived in the countryside. One boy was very clever but he did not like books. His name was Good Sense. The other boys were not very clever but they read every book in the school. When they became grown men, they decided to go out into the world to earn their livelihood.

They left home and came to a forest where they halted for the night. When they woke up in the morning, they found the bones of a lion. Three of them, who had learnt their books well at school, decided to make a lion out of the bones.

Good Sense told them, “A lion is a dangerous animal. It will kill us. Don’t make a lion.” But the three disregarded his advice and started making a lion. Good Sense was very clever. When his friends were busy making the lion, he climbed up a tree to save himself. No sooner had the three young men created the lion and gave it life, than it pounced upon them and ate them up. Good Sense climbed down the tree and went home very sadly.

One evening, long after most people had gone to bed, a friend and I were making our way merrily back home through the silent and almost deserted streets. We had been to a musical show and were talking about the actor we had seen and heard in it.

“That show made him a star overnight,” said my friend about one of the actors. “He was completely unknown before and now thousands of teenagers send him chocolates and love letters through the mail.”

“I thought he was quite good,” I said, “but not worth thousands of love letters daily. As a matter of fact, one of his songs gave me a pain.”

“What was that?” my friend asked. “Sing to me.” I burst into a parody of the song.

“Be quiet for heaven’s sake!” My friend gave me an astonished look.

“You’ll give everybody a fright and wake people up for miles around.”

“Never mind,” I said, intoxicated with the sound of my own voice. “I don’t care. How does it matter?”

And I went on singing the latest tunes at the top of my voice.

Presently there came behind us the sound of heavy footsteps and before you could say “Jack Robinson” a policeman was standing in front of me, his notebook open, and a determined look on his face.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “You have a remarkable voice, if I may say so. Who taught you to sing? I’d very much like to find someone who can give my daughter singing lessons. Would you be kind enough to tell me your name and address? Then my wife or I can drop you a line and discuss the matter.”