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Updated: May 31, 2025
The autumn days passed swiftly. Yellow, crimson, and russet leaves fluttered to the ground. Early in the mornings the grass was frosted in white. Granny, Mother Graymouse and Aunt Squeaky were busily preparing for winter. In the cool cave behind their bungalow, were rows of jelly glasses; boxes of tiny red apples from the orchard; plenty of little potatoes which the hired men had left in Mr.
Grand-daddy Whiskers came puffing up to the attic with a pan of warm biscuits under his arm. Mother Graymouse looked relieved, for Grand-daddy was quite a doctor. "What shall I do for the poor child, Grand-daddy?" she asked. "What has he been eating?" was Grand-daddy's first question as he bent over Buster's bed.
"Did you say Simon Skunk was ill?" asked Granny in alarm. "Don't you go a step, Zenas. Remember your solemn promise to fetch us all safe and sound to our attic home before snow flies. How will you do it, I want to ask you, Zenas Whiskers, if Simon Skunk harms you?" "Better keep away from that Skunk tribe," advised Aunt Squeaky. Even Mother Graymouse, who was usually so brave, looked anxious.
Pudding that's a dream. "Heigh oh! Merry oh! Spice cake's very nice; Heigh oh! Merry oh! We are happy mice." "A voice just like his poor Daddy's," sighed Mother Graymouse, "and so he is a comfort, too." "Then there was a pair of twins," resumed Uncle Squeaky. "The two of 'em wouldn't make one good sized mouse.
You couldn't have made a wiser remark. We'll ask no further questions till Friday night." But when Friday night came they were all thinking of something else, something quite out of the common; and "Grandmother Graymouse" and her school were forgotten. It began with Zee. By this time her young mistress had become very much attached to her; and so indeed had all the "Dunlee party." Even Mrs.
But at last, Granny wrapped herself in her plaid shawl, slipped a bottle of castor oil and another of vinegar into her skirt pocket, and said good-by to her pantry home. Uncle Squeaky, with his precious fiddle tucked under his arm, joined her and Grand-daddy. Then followed Mother Graymouse and her little brood, with Aunt Squeaky and the cousins. But the next week was Thanksgiving.
We like to make our own playthings." Then Buster and Limpy-toes had to tell the cousins all about the wonderful toys in the Giant's play-room. It was a long story. By the time it was finished, Dot called them to a nice lunch. In the afternoon, Uncle Squeaky and his wife returned from the city. "Bless my stars!" cried Uncle Squeaky, "if here aren't three of the Graymouse kiddies!
But mamma, you don't expect me to go to school to that little girl; now do you?" "Certainly not, Edith; oh, no." "Must I go to Grandmother Graymouse?" whined Jimmy, "She's only my sister. And I came up here to play." "Play all you like, my son. No one will ask you to go school." "But I really want to go," said Nate. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. A girl's school like that will be larks.
Mother Graymouse, with her family lived in a cosy attic which was as snug and comfortable as any good mouse could wish. Her children were named Limpy-toes, Silver Ears, Buster, Teenty and Tiny, and Baby Squealer. Although they had many faults, upon the whole they were good children and made a happy family.
"We'll stay just as long as we wish," planned Tiny. "So we will. It will be good fun," answered Teenty. Silver Ears heard them whispering and giggling together, but she was busy making herself a blue velvet hood from some pieces that Mother Graymouse had found in an old trunk. So she never noticed when Tiny and Teenty slipped through a hole that led to the play-room.
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