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The cupboard door was ajar, and even before Mother Graymouse had put Baby Squealer in his cradle, or taken off her bonnet, she caught sight of the heap of Christmas candies and the popcorn, which looked like a white snow-bank upon the cupboard shelf. "Sniff! Sniff!" Out came Mammy's handkerchief as she sank into her rocking chair, bonnet, baby and all. "Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.
One day, Mother Graymouse put on her gray bonnet with the blue ribbons on it, and hunted around for the candy bag. She was going shopping. When at last she found the bag, there was a hole in one corner. "I have not used it since the day we visited Cousin Debbie Field-Mouse," she remembered. "That naughty Baby Squealer must have chewed a hole in it on the way home.
"Just like Ruth Giant," he thought proudly, as he nibbled a chocolate. "It is almost as good as having a birthday party of my own. And it is much nicer than tramping around out of doors, if Mammy does call it a picnic." When Mother Graymouse returned, the children were all eager to tell Buster about their good time in the fields.
"I shall love to help Granny and be with Dot. May Limpy-toes and I go, Mammy? You will not mind?" "Surely you may go, dearie," smiled Mother Graymouse bravely. "You will be happiest where you can do the most good, and Granny needs you just now." "With such a small family, Betsey and I can manage the work nicely," said Aunt Squeaky.
Next morning when all the little Graymouses were eating their breakfast food, Mother Graymouse announced soberly, "My dears, we are going to move." "Out into the country?" cried Silver Ears and Buster at once. "Out into the barn." "Oh, dear!" wailed five little mice. "Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer. "Listen, dearies," argued Mammy patiently. "Our lives are no longer safe in this attic.
On pleasant mornings, the sun shone in bright and warm through the dainty cobweb curtains of their east window. In the summer-time, robins and orioles sang sweetly among the green branches of the maple tree which shaded the west window. Even when it stormed, Mother Graymouse and her little ones enjoyed the patter, patter of the rain-drops upon the roof and window-panes.
"You take a basket and fetch home some strawberries, right now, Buster Graymouse, and I'll bake a strawberry short cake for supper that'll melt in your mouth," promised Aunt Squeaky. "Take Tiny and Teenty along and show them how to dig dandelions. We will have a mess of greens for dinner tomorrow," planned Mother Graymouse. "Such treats as we have in the country!
"Good evening, Grandmother Graymouse," said Uncle James, as they were all seated on the veranda after dinner, "do I understand that you are hunting for a watch?" "I'm hunting for it, oh, yes," replied Kyzie, trying not to look too triumphant; "but I haven't found it yet. Just wait till to-morrow, Uncle James." "I don't believe we'll wait another minute!" declared Mr.
"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.
"Old Tom thinks someone is bobbing it for him to play with," lisped Tiny. "Stop winding," directed Silver Ears, "and old Tom will soon take another nap." When Mother Graymouse returned, Silver Ears had the shopping bag neatly mended and there was plenty of thread upon their spool. "I meant to have gone for it myself.
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