UNCLE SQUEAKY
The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky gleefully. Silver
Ears took his fur cap and cane, Limpy-toes hung up his great-coat,
and the twins captured both his kindly paws and danced back to the
chimney corner with him.
Buster was such a fat, lazy fellow that he just sat upon his little
stool and waited for his uncle to come to him.
"Howdy do, Uncle Squeaky?" he said as the others drew their little
red-painted stools into a half circle before Uncle Squeaky's
arm-chair. "Have you any peppermints in your pocket?"
"And will you please tell us a real exciting story?" begged Silver
Ears.
Uncle Squeaky laughed until tiny wrinkles came all around his
twinkling, black eyes and he looked ever so pleasant.
"Just listen to that, Ma Graymouse!" he cried.
[Illustration: _The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky
gleefully._]
"Just listen to that! One would think I was a walking candy store and
a story book, all in one. Very sorry, Buster Boy, but I haven't a
single peppermint in my pocket. I think you ought not to eat so much
candy. You are too fat, already. As for stories, you kiddies have
heard every tale that this old gray head holds, time and time again."
He watched the five sober little faces as they sat upon their
red-painted stools with their paws folded primly in their laps. Then
he winked slyly at Mother Graymouse. "Oh, well, if you are going to
feel as bad as all that, perhaps I might manage to tell you one more
story," he chuckled. "But I think Silver Ears will hardly call it
exciting. And I wonder if you little folk could make some
checkermints do?"
He drew forth a handful of pink candies from his pocket and gave them
three apiece.
"Bless my stars, how that little Squealer does squeal! Here, Ma
Graymouse, stuff his mouth with this candy and I will begin my
story:"
[Illustration: "I might manage to tell one more Story, he chuckled."]
"Once upon a time, away up in an attic, so high that it made their
fat old uncle puff to climb up to their dwelling, there lived a widow
and her six children. Their father met a sad death a short time ago
and so her children had to be very brave and work hard to help their
dear mother."
"Sniff! Sniff!" went Mother Graymouse behind her handkerchief.
"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.
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.
"And a great comfort he is, to be sure," put in Mother Graymouse
heartily.
[Illustration: There was a pretty daughter who loved Bright Ribbons.]
"And there was a pretty daughter who loved bright ribbons and spent
quite a good deal of time dancing before the looking-glass. But she
was good-natured and helpful, with all her gay ways and dainty
habits, and every one who knew her loved her."
"Silver Ears, of course!" shouted the others.
"The third little fellow resembled his Grand-daddy Whiskers,"
continued Uncle Squeaky. "He was fat as a butter ball, so he could
not squeeze through holes to hunt for food with the others. He ate so
many goodies that he was too tired to do much work, so he had to sit
on his little red stool most of the time. But he could sometimes sing
the baby to sleep, which was a great blessing. He was a sweet singer
and now he is going to sing us a song. Wake up, Buster Boy, and give
us a right good tune."
Buster blinked sleepily.
"It is rather warm in this chimney corner," excused Mother Graymouse.
"Now, Buster, sing your newest song for Uncle Squeaky; that's a good
child."
Buster rubbed his sleepy eyes and began:
"Cheese oh! Merry oh!
Apple pie and cream;
Cheese oh! Merry oh!
Pudding that's a dream.
"Heigh oh! Merry oh!
Spice cake's very nice;
Heigh oh! Merry oh!
We are happy mice."
"A voice just like his poor Daddy's," sighed Mother Graymouse, "and
so he is a comfort, too."
"Then there was a pair of twins," resumed Uncle Squeaky. "The two of
'em wouldn't make one good sized mouse. 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."
"Then there was a small baby; he was rightly named Squealer," added
Uncle Squeaky dryly. "Well, one stormy night when the snow was packed
against the windows so you couldn't even peep out, their old uncle
made them a visit. He reminded them that once again it was New Year's
Eve." He paused solemnly.
"And so we must make new resolutions," smiled Silver Ears.
"Very good," agreed Uncle Squeaky. "Suppose you begin."
"I will obey my mother," said Silver Ears.
"I will try to take poor Daddy's place," said Limpy-toes.
"I will mind the baby," said Tiny.
"I will mind baby, too," said Teenty.
"Your turn, Buster," reminded Uncle Squeaky.
"I will try to wake up mornings," said Buster.
"And not eat so much, my boy. And do a little more work; it is good
exercise," advised Uncle Squeaky in a rather severe tone.
"Now that is fine. Good little mice are always obedient and helpful.
I think, Ma Graymouse, that you ought to be very happy and contented
this year with such dutiful kiddies. Now it is getting late. I must
tell you the good news which was my real errand, and then be gone.
Granny and Grand-daddy Whiskers have met with great good fortune.
They have moved up one flight into the pantry closet. They say the
air there is very fine--all sorts of delicious odors. And food! Why,
it is hard to choose the bill of fare, there's so many goodies laying
around! Granny wishes you to visit her and bring all the
kiddies,--especially Buster," he grinned. "Good night. A happy New
Year to you all!"
"Happy New Year, Uncle Squeaky!" they called in chorus. "Bring your
fiddle next time, uncle," coaxed Silver Ears, as he pulled his fur
cap down snugly.
"And don't forget the checkermints," drawled Buster from his little
red stool.