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Updated: June 20, 2025
"All safe, Grand-daddy?" they cried. "Sure," grinned Grand-daddy. "They are harmless folk. Have you seen a gray paper balloon dangling from the bushes, kiddies?" "I have," cried Wink. "Uncle said hornets lived in it and they were real fighters." "I'll fight 'em, then. I want that nest for medicine. Trot ahead and show it to me." "Hi! hi! Dr. Whiskers!" came a cry from the Lake.
I've said it forty-'leven times, lest I forget. The message is from Pa Field-Mouse, Squire Cricket, Sir Spider, Daddy Grasshopper, Mr. Hop Toad, and Mr. Jack Rabbit. They bade me say this: "Dr. Grand-daddy Whiskers "We woodfolk are sometimes sick; we need a doctor. We wish our children to have a teacher. They must learn to read and write. Our wives must learn to cook and sew.
We have a busy day ahead of us on the morrow." Their attic home was a bare-looking place by the next evening. All day long the little mice had trotted down the dark subway, carrying their treasures to the entrance near Mr. Giant's back doorstep. Here was hidden the cart which Grand-daddy had made from a stout box and four big spools.
Melodious music makes many melancholy mice merry. Ha! ha! That's nearly as good as the jingle Robert Giant used to sing about 'Picker Peter's peppered pickles." Buster Graymouse hopped up and down in delight. He laughed until the tears ran down his fat cheeks. "What's the trouble, Buster Boy?" asked Grand-daddy. "Did you eat too much supper?"
"No, no! Say not that. My dear daughter shall not be lost! Ah! Mon dieu!" "Daughter? Was one of 'em your daughter, grand-daddy?" exclaimed Sheldrake. "Think of that, Burke! His daughter drownded!" "Je suis fachè de votre malheur, père," said Palafox, in a tone of affected commiseration. Then turning to Sheldrake with a grin, "Better not devil the old man any more, Shel; he's gone crazy.
To be sure, there are legends. One, particularly striking, claims that the Golden Trout occurs in one other stream situated in Central Asia! and that the fish is therefore a remnant of some pre-glacial period, like Sequoia trees, a sort of grand-daddy of all trout, as it were. This is but a sample of what you will hear discussed.
Giant's woodbine were purple. Remember, Buster, unless the leaves have five fingers like your paws, they are poison ivy. Now trot along with Hopsy and Webbie over to Wild Rose Cottage. Tell Grand-daddy all about it and ask him to fix you up." Dr. Whiskers washed the three scared little patients in salt water. "I am afraid you will be some puffed-up youngsters in the morning," he said.
We must hurry, or Uncle Squeaky will catch up and laugh to find us by the roadside." Grand-daddy and Pa Field-Mouse were standing on the bungalow steps talking earnestly together when Limpy-toes drove up. "A fine automobile, Pa Field-Mouse," said Grand-daddy, waving his paw. "My grandson is a great inventor; he will be famous some day." "Ah!" cried Buster, "how good our Gray Rock Bungalow looks!
Uncle Squeaky rapped smartly upon the floor with his cane. At once there was silence. "Fetch your little stools and sit down to supper, every last mouse of you!" he commanded. "Let your victuals fill your mouths and stop your noise. Nimble-toes has brought a word for Grand-daddy." In a twinkling they were all seated around the long table.
"But I guess you will know poison ivy next time." Sure enough, next morning poor Buster could hardly see out of his eyes. His face and paws were swelled and puffy and oh, how they itched! "Simon Skunk meant to be kind to you, Buster, because Grand-daddy had been good to him," said Mother Graymouse. "Next time I'll mind Simon and leave the old ivy alone, Mammy," promised Buster sadly.
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