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Our enemies are stronger, wiser and richer than ourselves. Daddy Graymouse has lost his life, Limpy-toes had lost some toes, and I have lost a generous piece out of one ear. We must consider the safety of our children. It is wise, therefore, to retreat before it is too late," he finished, looking very solemn. The other four wagged their heads in approval.
One fine day, when Mother Graymouse had taken Baby Squealer down cellar to call upon Aunt and Uncle Squeaky, and Limpy-toes had been sent to the store across the street, they planned a pleasure trip of their own. "Silvy and Limpy-toes often visit the playroom and have a lovely time," whispered Tiny. "Let's go, you and I." "Let's go!" agreed Teenty, clapping her paws.
That was what the doctor gave Robert when he ate too much candy. You will get a good dose, young man, and then you will feel better. Ten chocolates; the greedy little pig!" he grumbled as he hurried away. "I won't take castor oil, Mammy!" cried Buster. "It tastes horrid." "You will take castor oil, Buster," replied Mother Graymouse, "if I have to hold your nose."
"Charming!" cried Mother Graymouse, and all the little Graymouse children clapped their tiny paws. "I think we will learn it for our bed-time song," decided Mother Graymouse. "It will help you remember the lessons I have taught you to-day." "May Limpy-toes, Buster and I visit our cousins to-day, Mammy?" asked Silver Ears one bright morning.
"The poor kiddie didn't understand, Hezekiah," smiled Mother Graymouse. "Hold up your paw and count the fingers. How many are there, Buster?" "One, two, three, four, five," counted Buster. "Yes, and the leaves on Ruth Giant's vine have five fingers. These wild leaves have only three fingers and you must never touch them. You see these berries are waxy white and the berries on Mr.
He soon brought them, warm and breathless, to a pile of rails near the corn field. "I thank you very kindly, Dickie," said Mother Graymouse. Then she knocked upon the door of the humble cottage. "Why, my dear Betsey!" cried Mrs. Field-Mouse. "I am glad to see you! And all of the children. Dearie sakes, how they do grow! This is a pleasure, a real surprise party.
The family at home looked at her curiously, and Uncle James asked outright, "Tell us, Grandmother Graymouse, how do the scholars behave?" "Well, I suppose they behaved as well as they knew how; but oh, it makes me so hungry!" She could not say whether she liked teaching or not. "Wait till Friday night, Uncle James, and then I'll tell you." "Well said, Grandmother Graymouse!
Uncle Squeaky passed Mother Graymouse another checkermint for the baby and went on with his story: "The oldest son was much like his Daddy, very wise and clever at making things. He was somewhat lame as he had lost the toes of one foot in a trap when he was a small mouse, too small to be wise." "Limpy-toes!" they cried in a chorus.
"Betsey Graymouse, here is Buster with his paws full of poison ivy!" "Trot out and throw that stuff away at once," commanded Uncle Squeaky. "Only last evening we told you not to touch poison ivy." "Simon Skunk said that it was poison, but I thought he meant to scare us. I've seen Ruth Giant pick these pretty leaves on her piazza," whimpered Buster.
But it did not take much stuff for their dresses and they could steal through the tiniest, teentiest holes, which was often very handy for the whole family." How they all clapped for Tiny and Teenty! "Hush!" cautioned Mother Graymouse. "If we make too much noise, the Giant may be angry and turn us out of our cosy home."
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