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Updated: July 18, 2025
Thimblefinger was telling the story of the Strawberry-Girl, Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes had drawn near to listen. Chickamy Crany Crow stood near Mrs. Meadows, and seemed to be very much interested. When Mr. Thimblefinger had concluded, she would have gone away, but Mrs. Meadows detained her. "No," said Mrs.
"And it reminds me of a little accident that happened in my mother's family. But it's hardly worth telling." "Well, tell it, anyhow," said Mrs. Meadows. "Yes," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "the proof of the pudding is in chewing the bag." "Well," said Mr. Thimblefinger, "as far back as I can remember, and before that, too, my mother was a widow, and she had a great many children to take care of.
And I wouldn't be surprised if they are a great deal sorrier for you than you are for them." "When are we to go home?" asked Sweetest Susan plaintively. "Oho! you want to get back into your looking-glass!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger merrily. "Well, you won't have long to wait.
No matter how many pumpkins were cooked, the stray baby would eat them all, and the rest of the children would have to go hungry. You see how small I am," said Mr. Thimblefinger, suddenly pausing in the thread of his story. "Well, the reason of it is that I was starved out by that pumpkin-eating baby.
Didn't the boy and girl get back home where they could get something to eat?" "What became of them?" asked Buster John. "The stories about boys and girls in books say they married and lived happily ever after." "Oh, yes!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger. "I've heard about it. I remember the poetry, "'They married, then, and lived in clover, And when they died, they died all over." "Well," said Mrs.
Thimblefinger says, and he ought to know. I suppose Billy is still bob-tailed? I remember the very day he had his tail broken off." "Tell us about it," remarked Buster John. "Oh, it doesn't amount to much," said he. "It's hardly worth talking about. I think it was one Saturday. In those days, you know, we used to have a half-holiday every Saturday.
Then I felt the bark rising. I pushed as hard as I could, and here I am." "Ax 'im his name," said Drusilla in an awe-stricken tone. "Ah, I forgot," responded the little man. "I know you, but you don't know me. My name is Mr. Thimblefinger, and I shall be happy to serve you. Whenever you want me just tap three times on the head of your bed." "Thank goodness!
"To be sure! To be sure!" Mr. Thimblefinger cried. "My mind is like a wagon without a tongue. It goes every way but the right way. Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now." "Well, the Mayor was very thankful to Tip-Top for saving his treasure and his horses, but he wasn't satisfied about the saddle. He was worried.
"They haven't room enough in there to turn around," said Sweetest Susan. "Why not?" inquired Mr. Thimblefinger. "To them the world is a looking-glass, and a mighty little one at that. If you were to peep in their glass now they'd peep back at you; but, as they look at it, you are in a looking-glass and they are out of it.
"Then the thief fell on his knees and begged the Mayor to pardon him, promising him to live and die an honest man. And he kept his promise. He engaged in business, and, aided by Tip-Top's advice and influence, made a large fortune." "What became of the Talking-Saddle?" asked Buster John. "Well," replied Mr. Thimblefinger, "Tip-Top hung the saddle in his front porch, as you have seen farmers do.
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