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Updated: June 16, 2025
There would be no more "mices." Next Saturday afternoon Speug and Nestie were out for a ramble in the country, and turning into a lane where the hedgerows were breaking into green, and the primroses nestling at the roots of the bushes, they came upon a sight which made them pause so that they could only stand and look.
'Mama had wery soft curls, papa called 'em golden; mama had wery blue eyes, papa called 'em wiolet, and she had wery pink cheeks, and papa called 'em sea shells, and he called her wery little mouth, a rose bud and her wery soft hands, welvet, and what do you think he named her wery, wery, cunning little feets? mices.
It tickled so a little mouse it almost made him sneeze. And when your mices sneeze, when they smell the cheese, you could hear them, and catch them, Sam." "Yes, maybe that would be a good plan," laughed Bunker Blue. "But do your mice like cheese, Sam?" "Yes, they'll eat almost anything, and they'll take it right out of my hand. Oh dear! I hope they come back!"
As the English mail pulled out of Muirtown Station with quickening speed, the boys ran along the platform beside the carriage shaking hands with Moossy through the open window and passing in their gifts. "Take care o' mices!" shouted Jock, with agreeable humour, but the last sight Moossy had of Muirtown was Speug standing on a luggage-barrow and waving farewell.
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