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"It is now let me see ahem! it is now precisely thirteen minutes and eleven seconds after one o'clock." "Is that the jug in the spring?" asked Sweetest Susan, pointing to the huge black shadow that was now wobbling and wavering more slowly. Mr. Thimblefinger shaded his eyes with his hand and examined the shadow critically.
"I hope you are not tired," said Mr. Thimblefinger to Sweetest Susan when they had been on their way for some little time. "Because if you are you can rest yourself by taking longer steps." Buster John was ready to laugh at this, but he soon discovered that Mr. Thimblefinger was right.
"To think of the poor little pigs Brother Bear killed and ate!" "Yes," said Mr. Rabbit, "and the lambs!" "Worse than that!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger. "Think of the little children he devoured! Think of it!" "I'm glad he had his head cut off," said Buster John heartily. "Me too, honey," assented Drusilla. After telling how Brother Bear learned to comb his hair, Mr.
Meadows, "just drop a big apple in the spring, and I'll be bound we'll all see it and know what it means. And when you come be sure and bring the apple. It's been a month of Sundays since I've had one." The children promised they would, and then, with Mr. Thimblefinger leading the way, they started home, which they reached without further adventure.
"I heard the noise they made, and I turned around and saw it just as I've told you." Drusilla touched Buster John on the arm. "We ain't dreamin', is we, honey?" Buster John looked at her scornfully. "What put that in your head?" he asked. "Suppose the rock had hit Mr. Dog?" suggested Sweetest Susan. "Now, that's so!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger.
"But I didn't start out to tell anything about Jimmy Jay-Bird," continued Mr. Thimblefinger, after pausing a moment. "I was thinking about the way a witch was caught by a boy no bigger and not much older than our young friend here." "Tell us about it, please!" cried Buster John enthusiastically. "Well," said Mr. Thimblefinger, "it's not much of a story.
I don't sleep in no bed," exclaimed Drusilla. "That makes no difference," said Mr. Thimblefinger. "If you sleep on a pallet just tap on the floor." "Please, Mister, don't talk dat a-way," pleaded Drusilla, "kase I'll be constant a-projeckin' wid dat tappin', an' de fus' time you come I'll holler fire." "Don't notice her," said Buster John, "she talks to hear herself talk." "I see," replied Mr.
"Isn't it almost time for us to start home?" said Sweetest Susan, turning to Mr. Thimblefinger. "Why, you've got all the afternoon before you," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "Besides it will be downhill all the way.
Rabbit and laughing, "don't you remember the time you set yourself up as a rain-maker?" Mr. Rabbit chuckled so that he bent nearly double. "I don't remember that," sighed Mr. Thimblefinger. "You two have more jokes between you than you can shake a stick at. That comes of me being small and puny. Tell us about it, please." Mr.
By rights, you ought to stay here twelve hours, but the old Spring Lizard and I have put our heads together, and we've fixed it so that you can get back before sundown." "Isn't it night at home now?" inquired Buster John. "Why, they are hardly through washing the dinner dishes," replied Mrs. Meadows. "It is just half past two," said Mr. Thimblefinger, looking at his watch.
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