As a matter of course, your Aunt Amy asked her what she meant, and Mrs.
Mouser sat down at one side of the fireplace, as if making ready for an
afternoon of story-telling.
[Illustration: Mrs. Mouser Flatters Mr. Fox.]
"It was like this;" she said. "I was down in the meadow looking for
field mice one day, and met Mr. Fox. You know some animals think that he
and I are relations; but whether we are or not, we have always been good
friends. So he sat down for a chat, and we talked of first this thing
and then that, until finally I said, just to make myself agreeable:
"'Do you know, Mr. Fox, I think you are very smart.'
"Well now, would you believe it, that puffed him way up with pride, and
he said, grinning in a way that was enough to make any cat laugh:
"'Indeed I am, Mrs. Mouser. There isn't an animal around here who can
hold a candle to me for smartness.'
"'What about the dogs?' I asked, thinking to joke him a little, and he
turned up his nose as he said:
"'I don't give a snap of my claws for all the dogs there are around this
place! Even if four or five of them should come right up here this
minute, it wouldn't bother me any. You may not think it; but Mr. Towser
is actually afraid of me.
"Well now, do you know that made me laugh again, because in the first
place I knew it wasn't true; but what was the use of saying anything of
the kind to him? He was swelled way out with pride, so I changed the
conversation, and began talking about mice, when suddenly there was a
terrible commotion down the lane, and up came Mr. Towser, Miss Spaniel
and four or five other dogs, barking and yelping.
"Oh me, oh my, how frightened I was! Up a tree I scurried as fast as my
legs would carry me, and not until I was safe on the highest limb did I
look around to see Mr. Fox, who didn't care the snap of his claws for
dogs; but, bless you, he was going toward the meadow with his tail
hanging straight out behind him, while the dogs were gaining on him at
every jump. Mr. Towser told me afterward that they made Mr. Fox just
about as sick as Mrs. Toad made the bugs."
"What was it Mrs. Toad did?" your Aunt Amy asked, and Mrs. Mouser
replied with a grin:
"Perhaps you never heard that Mr. Crow is a great hand at making
poetry?"
[Illustration: Mr. Crow.]
"I have indeed," your Aunt Amy replied, and it was only with difficulty
she prevented herself from laughing aloud. "I have heard of his poetry
from every bird and animal around this farm."
[Illustration: Mr. Fox forgets how bold he was as the dogs chase him
through the field.]