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I shall enjoy staying a little longer." There was a scraping sound outside the door. "Pa Field-Mouse and Nimble-toes have tunnelled under the snow!" exclaimed Aunt Squeaky. "Now we can visit Debby. It is nice to have neighbors in the Cosy Retreat." "A bad storm, Hezekiah," greeted Pa Field-Mouse. "Guess you'll stay with us a spell longer, Dr. Whiskers."
Nimble-toes sat beside Grand-daddy, so he could talk with him easily, for Grand-daddy's left ear had been torn in a trap and he was somewhat deaf. "Now we are as still as mice," chuckled Grand-daddy. "Speak out, Nimble-toes." "I have a message from our woodfolk, Grand-daddy," began Nimble-toes. "No one could write a letter, so they told me what to say.
After supper the little mice had to show Nimble-toes all the wonderful toys that Uncle and Grand-daddy had brought from the city. Uncle Squeaky began to pull out boxes and bags in which to pack his shirts and neckties. "Hurrah, Grand-daddy!" he cried. "I'm as excited as the kiddies. Bless my stars, but they are giving Nimble-toes a jolly good time!
Uncle Squeaky rapped smartly upon the floor with his cane. At once there was silence. "Fetch your little stools and sit down to supper, every last mouse of you!" he commanded. "Let your victuals fill your mouths and stop your noise. Nimble-toes has brought a word for Grand-daddy." In a twinkling they were all seated around the long table.
Please let me, Limpy?" "All right," agreed Limpy-toes good-naturedly. "Cousin Nimble-toes may ride also." Nimble-toes opened his eyes wide. "Excuse me, if you please, Limpy-toes," he said quickly. "I will help Uncle Squeaky pull the cart. I'm sort of scared of a cart that'll go without pulling or pushing. It may run away with you." "And it may have to be pushed or pulled," teased Uncle Squeaky.
"Ma sent this thistle-down," said Nimble-toes. "She says it will make warm beds for you." "Very kind of Debby, I'm sure," said Uncle Squeaky. "We'll be very fine in our downy beds. I will ask Lady Spider to spin us some silk draperies for the windows, Granny. She will do anything we ask. The woodland folk all love Dr. Whiskers. And no wonder.
"Nimble-toes promised to take me for a sail some day," said Limpy-toes. "Oh, let's go again, Mammy," lisped Tiny. "Let's go," echoed Teenty. Baby Squealer was sound asleep in the candy bag which hung over Mother Graymouse's shoulder, so he did not even say "Boo-hoo!" "Well, well, dearies, we did have a delightful visit," replied Mother Graymouse. "Perhaps some day we will go again."
Whiskers. "Dot and Silvy are helping Granny make our rooms cosy, and I am going to visit my first patient." "I want Limpy-toes to go over to Polly-Wog Bridge and help get my boat afloat upon the Lake. I mean to catch some fish and have Belindy fry 'em for dinner." "Limpy-toes has gone with Nimble-toes to fetch a load of wood. They will soon be at home.
"Supper is all ready." The little mice crowded around their cousin from the Pond Lily Lake country. They all talked at once, squealing excitedly and asking all sorts of questions, until poor Nimble-toes was bewildered. At last he climbed upon a little red stool and shouted in Uncle Squeaky's ear: "I've a message for Grand-daddy Whiskers. Please make 'em be still a minute, Uncle Hezekiah."
"Scamper and I have been over to the store to get some cheese. I thought you were a burglar, just at first. Push open the door and trot in." "It is Cousin Nimble-toes!" cried a noisy chorus of little mice. "It is Nimble-toes Field-Mouse, sure as I'm a mouse!" declared Uncle Squeaky. "Welcome to our attic, my lad." "You must be hungry after your long tramp, Nimble-toes," said Mother Graymouse.
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