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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Howdy do, Uncle Squeaky?" he said as the others drew their little red-painted stools into a half circle before Uncle Squeaky's arm-chair. "Have you any peppermints in your pocket?" "And will you please tell us a real exciting story?" begged Silver Ears. Uncle Squeaky laughed until tiny wrinkles came all around his twinkling, black eyes and he looked ever so pleasant.
His voice sounded a little queer and squeaky over the wire, and for the matter of that so did Zaidie's as she replied: "Yes, I'm ready, I think. I hope these things will work all right."
Uncle Squeaky appeared upon the scene just then. "Stop that, you young rascal!" he laughed. "That is a very poor imitation of a cough. What you need is neither oil nor vinegar, but a good dose of salt. You are altogether too fresh for a youngster." Buster stopped choking at once. Soon he began to feel better. Then he called Silver Ears.
He went gently up the stairs, avoiding steps Nos. 1 and 7 because they were "creakers," as he found out long ago, when he used to 'hook' maple sugar from the other side of the house. The door at the top was closed and buttoned, but he put his jack-knife blade through the crack and turned the button. After listening awhile and hearing no sound in the kitchen, he gently opened the squeaky old door.
One, an old cock, had a very hoarse crow, and seemed to be suffering from chronic laryngitis brought on by an abuse of his vocal powers; and the other was a young cock with a very squeaky crow, for he was still taking lessons, and, as is the case with many beginners, he had too much enthusiasm.
Why, by the way, my mother used to say to me, in her delicate, squeaky voice: 'Robert, beware of Methodists; they're loose, my son, loose as a bag of bones. No, indeed, I wouldn't want you to think me indifferent to religion; religion's my forte. Why, by and by, I mean to start a Presbyterian church right here under your nose."
"What in thunder you tryin' to do?" he asked in a high, squeaky voice. "TRYIN' TO DO? I'll show ye, resistin' a officer! Here, Justin, give us a hand here, won't ye?" In the meantime the policeman was blowing a whistle to summon his mate. Eb stooped down again, and he and the policeman looked in each other's faces, their noses only half an inch apart. Eb had seen the brass buttons.
I think he would have established his claims to high rank had not a consumptive-looking boarder with a haggard face taken advantage of a pause in the speech, and without looking up from his plate, remarked in a squeaky voice, "The remainder of the service will be concluded at the grave." The interruption was a bombshell.
"Such a misfortune!" she remarked, in a squeaky voice that sounded, somehow, a horrible strain. "I have been shut up in the Tower and have only just escaped. I trust I am not too late for my execution. I'm afraid I have kept you all waiting." All the heaviness of misgiving passed out of the atmosphere in a burst of merriment. "Where on earth have you been hiding?" shouted Major Granville.
I wish I could show you him breathing hard and a little through his nose as his pen scrabbled out some absurd inspiration for a poster or a picture page, and make you hear his voice, charged with solemn import like the voice of a squeaky prophet, saying, "George! list'n! I got an ideer. I got a notion! George!" I should put myself into the same picture.
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