MOVING DAYS
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. Please bring a needle and thread
and mend it for me, Silvy."
"There is no thread, Mammy. I used the last needleful yesterday
sewing patchwork."
"Dear me, I shall have to get some," sighed Mother Graymouse. "I have
a whole paper of needles, but they are useless without thread."
"I saw Ruth Giant making a doll's dress in the play-room," lisped
Tiny, "and she had a nice, new spool of white cotton. I didn't go in,
Mammy, truly I didn't. Teenty and I were peeping through the littlest
hole."
When Mother Graymouse had gone, Silver Ears was eager for another
adventure.
"We need that nice new spool of thread," she argued, "and I mean to
get it. No, Buster, you are too fat to run fast, and Limpy-toes is
lame. I shall not let the twins venture, for old Tom is often in the
play-room. So I must go myself."
Away she skipped, before cautious Limpy-toes could say no. Pretty
soon she slipped through the tiniest hole, laughing gleefully. She
held a long white thread in her mouth.
"Hurry and bring the empty spool," she cried. "I fooled old Tom that
time. He was asleep on the couch and never heard me. I couldn't pull
the spool through the hole, so I've brought one end of the thread.
We'll take turns winding it on to our spool."
They wound, and wound, and wound.
"Seem's if there is no end," complained Buster.
Limpy-toes went on with the work. Suddenly, the thread tightened and
the spool in the playroom stopped bobbing.
The twins crept slyly to the hole to see what had happened. They came
back giggling softly.
"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. And I had told you, Silvy, never
to go to the play-room without asking," she scolded.
"I'm sorry I disobeyed, Mammy," said Silver Ears. "You see, we needed
the thread so badly and it was such fun to fool old Tom, that I
forgot what you said. Please forgive me, Mammy?"
"Yes, dear, I will forgive you this time. But oh, such a risk!" she
sighed.
Next day, Silver Ears discovered that all three of the holes into the
play-room had been stuffed with yellow soap.
"The nasty tasting stuff!" she scolded. "How can we ever get it out?
If we chew new holes, I suppose they will be stuffed, too."
When Mother Graymouse called upon Granny Whiskers, she found her in
great trouble.
"The cookies are shut tight in pails. The cheese and meat are
covered. The only food in sight is set around on the pantry shelves
in traps. The Giants mean to starve us out. Such terrible times as
have befallen us!" she moaned.
Uncle Squeaky was of the same opinion. Mr. Giant had been very angry
when he found the pumpkin play-house that Wink and Wiggle had made.
He found fault because his choice red apples were nibbled.
"And now," continued Uncle Squeaky in a disgusted tone, "the whole
cellar is full of traps."
They held a serious counsel,--Grand-daddy and Granny Whiskers, Uncle
and Aunt Squeaky, and Mother Graymouse. They talked until midnight.
When the clock struck twelve, Grand-daddy summed it all up.
[Illustration: The only food in sight is set around on the pantry
shelves in traps.]
"This has been going on for some time. War is now declared. 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.
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. Our enemies are cruel. We must go. But
Grand-daddy and Uncle Squeaky will go with us. You will have Dot,
Scamper, Wink and Wiggle for playmates. Just think what fun you ten
children will have together. Uncle Squeaky knows a snug place in the
hay loft where we can live in safety. There's plenty of grain in the
barrels and the store is still across the street. We older folk may
even venture into the Giant's pantry now and then. But we think it
best to take you children out of danger."
"It might be worse," remarked Limpy-toes.
"I shall love to have Cousin Dot with us," smiled Silver Ears.
"And Wink and Wiggle," added the twins.
"Prob'ly Granny will make us some ginger cookies," drawled Buster.
"But oh, Mammy, what hard work it will be to move!"
"It will, indeed," agreed Mother Graymouse, "so I think, Buster, that
you may as well start right now to help me pack. There's my rocking
chair, Squealer's cradle and high-chair, all your little beds and
stools, besides my dishes,--it makes me weary just to think of it."
"We must not forget our needles and thread," said Silver Ears. "I
mean to rummage in these trunks and get a whole lot of stuff for
dresses and bonnets and patchwork. And our shopping bag--we must not
forget that."
Each night as it grew dusky, a busy little procession marched to the
barn, laden with their household goods. It took a long time, for they
meant to stock up as heavily as possible for the coming winter.
But at last, Granny wrapped herself in her plaid shawl, slipped a
bottle of castor oil and another of vinegar into her skirt pocket,
and said good-by to her pantry home. Uncle Squeaky, with his precious
fiddle tucked under his arm, joined her and Grand-daddy. Then
followed Mother Graymouse and her little brood, with Aunt Squeaky and
the cousins.
But the next week was Thanksgiving. Granny, Mammy and Aunt Squeaky
were good cooks and they forgot their sadness in their preparations
to celebrate the holiday. And so it was a jolly, thankful party which
sat down to the feast at Grand-daddy Whisker's long table which was
laden with good things for their Thanksgiving dinner.
[Illustration: A busy little procession marched to the barn.]