I might stay as long as you wanted me.”
“Well, that won’t be long enough,” answered Uncle John Hare. “Come,
part your hair down the middle of your back and wash your paws for
supper. I smell the lollypop stew.”
It took little Jack Rabbit less than two and a half minutes to make
himself spick and span. Then with a hop, skip and a jump he followed
his nice old Uncle to the dining room where Mrs. Daisy Duck had a
lovely supper waiting for them.
Perhaps you’d like to hear what was on the table. Lots of little
boys and girls don’t know what rabbits eat, I imagine. Well, there
was carrot cake and lettuce marmalade, carrot jelly and turnip tea,
lollypop stew and cabbage custard. A mighty nice sort of a supper for
anybody, seems to me.
Just as they were finishing the cabbage custard there came a loud
knocking at the front door.
“Who can it be?” asked Uncle John Hare.
“I’ll soon find out,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, waddling out of the
room with her napkin under her left wing.
“Is Mr. John Hare at home?” inquired a loud voice.
“Yes, I’m here,” answered the old gentleman bunny, hopping out into
the hall. But when he saw who was calling he wished he had hidden in
the cellar. There stood the Ragged Rabbit Giant. You could see only
the tops of his boots, for they were as high as the front door. Why,
his waistcoat was even with the roof of the little white house and
his gold chain tinkled against the red brick chimney every time he
leaned down to speak to Mrs. Daisy Duck.
“What can I do for you?” asked Uncle John Hare, as soon as he had
caught his breath. “I’d invite you into supper, only you couldn’t
accept. Maybe you’d like me to hand you out a cabbage cup custard.
Mrs. Daisy Duck is quite famous for her cabbage cup custards.”
“No, I don’t want any custard,” answered the Ragged Rabbit Giant. “I
don’t like sweet things. Have you a cabbage leaf cigar?”
“Wait a minute. I think I have,” answered the old gentleman hare in a
trembly voice, hopping back into the sitting room.
Pretty soon the giant grew restless. He shuffled his big feet, looked
at his watch and then all of a sudden shouted, “Hurry up with that
cabbage leaf cigar. I could have walked to Cuba in my seven league
boots by this time for a good Smokerino.”
Dear, dear me! I’ve been dreadfully worried while dear Uncle John
Hare has been hunting for a cabbage leaf cigar for fear he wouldn’t
be able to find it. I don’t know what I’d do if a Ragged Rabbit Giant
was waiting outside my little white house on the corner of Lettuce
Square and Turnip Street, Turnip City.
“I’ve found it,” answered poor Uncle John Hare, hopping out with
Little Jack Rabbit to the front porch.
“Bless my stars!” exclaimed the giant, looking at the little bunny
boy as he lighted the cigar, “if this isn’t Lady Love’s little
rabbit. Howdy, young bunny. I must be going home. Good-by. Come
to see me soon,” and away stalked the big rabbitman in his seven
league boots to his castle on Tip Top, Sky-high Mountain, under the
stars, for it would be night-time when he arrived home, although he
could cover almost a mile every time he took a stride, and when he
jumped,—dear me, I can’t figure how much space he covered,—maybe
three times a mile.
“Well, I’m glad he’s gone,” said Mrs. Daisy Duck from her hiding
place. “I declare, my heart beat so loudly I mistook it for the Old
Grandfather Clock. Dear, dearie me! I don’t like such great big bunny
men. Little ones are nicer,” and hugging Little Jack Rabbit, she gave
him a cough drop from a little box she carried in her calico apron
pocket.
By and by, after Uncle John Hare had finished smoking his cabbage
leaf cigar, he said to his small nephew:
“Let’s have a game of pinochle.”
But, goodness me! The little rabbit was so drowsy that he could
hardly keep his eyes open and pretty soon he let all the cards drop
to the floor.
“Hoity toity!” exclaimed Uncle John Hare, looking up. But when he saw
that the Sand Man had filled his nephew’s eyes with Dream Dust he
covered up the little bunny boy and let him sleep where he was until
morning.
BUNNY TALE 29
THE MESSENGER
Wake up, wake up! It’s morning now,
The Farmer is milking the little black cow,
The Rooster is blowing his shiny tin horn
And Billy Breeze’s whistling a tune in the corn.
Goodness me! Up jumped Little Jack Rabbit. You remember that the
tired little bunny boy had been too sleepy to hop upstairs after
playing a game of pinochle with Uncle John Hare, and had fallen
asleep in a big arm chair for the night. That’s where we left him,
and now we find him wide awake.
“Hurry up, the buckwheat cake
Is sizzling hot upon your plate.
If you don’t hurry Mrs. Mouse
May take it to her tiny house,”
quacked Mrs. Daisy Duck, the old gentleman hare’s housekeeper.
“I’ll hurry,” answered the little rabbit boy, and in less than a
jiffy he had combed his hair down the middle of his back, washed his
paws and repeated the little verse that Lady Love, his pretty bunny
mother, had taught him:
“Every day in every way, I grow better and better.”
After that he and his big appetite hopped into the dining room. There
stood dear Uncle John Hare, looking over the _Turnip City News_.
“Well, how did you sleep?” he asked, gazing up over his spectacles.
“Tip top,” replied his small bunny nephew. “I never heard a thing
until the Big Red Rooster went ‘cock-a-doodle-do’ on his little tin
horn. I guess he woke me up.”
“I imagine so,” replied the old gentleman bunny, with a twinkle in
his eye. “My, but you were tired last night after your long ride.
Let’s see what Mrs. Daisy Duck has for us.”
Then down sat the two little rabbits as the nice old lady duck
waddled in with carrot coffee, clover cereal and buckwheat cakes
covered with pink lollypop syrup. Oh, me, oh, my! wasn’t the
breakfast good! Well I guess yes three times and maybe four.
Just then somebody knocked on the door, one, two, three, bingo!
“Who’s that, I wonder?” exclaimed Uncle John Hare.
“I’ll see,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck. “You go on with your breakfast.
Most likely it’s the gas man with a bill.”
But it wasn’t. No, it was somebody else, only worse. I guess
sometimes we ought to be thankful it’s only the gas man!
“Who is it?” asked the old gentleman bunny, as Mrs. Daisy Duck
returned with a worried expression on her face and a piece of paper
in her bill.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear! It seems to me
That Mr. Trouble Man
Is always knocking on the door
As loudly as he can,”
answered Mrs. Daisy Duck.
“Who is it and what does he want and what’s his name?” asked the old
gentleman hare, pulling the napkin from under his chin to wipe his
gold-rimmed spectacles instead of his whiskers. Wasn’t that careless
of him? Well I should say so, especially as there wasn’t a drop of
syrup on them,—I mean his spectacles of course, not his whiskers.
“Read this note,” whispered Mrs. Daisy Duck, looking anxiously over
her shoulder as if fearing somebody or something might suddenly come
in through the half open door.
Uncle John Hare quickly opened the envelope and read:
“I want a million carrot cents
And I want them mighty quick,
Just hand them to my messenger
Or he’ll hit you with my stick!”
“Dear, oh, dear!” exclaimed the poor old gentleman bunny, dropping
this dreadful note on the carpet, “what shall I do?”
“Do something quick,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, glancing timidly
over her shoulder. Indeed she had already almost twisted her long
neck into a bowknot.
[Illustration: “Twice to the left, three to the right!”]
“All right,” answered the old gentleman hare with a sigh, hopping
over to a big iron safe in the corner and squatting down to turn back
and forth the little silver knob. Over the door was printed in big
gold letters:
“John Hare.
Turnip City.”
But, dear me! He was so nervous that the door wouldn’t obey his
trembling paw. Over and over, around and around, he turned the
little knob, repeating the combination half aloud:
“Twice to the left, three to the right!
Then stop at the spot where it says ‘Good night!’”
Just then a loud knocking came at the kitchen door.
“Please hurry,” cried the frightened lady duck housekeeper, looking
anxiously into the kitchen. “The messenger is at the back door.”
“Dear, dear! I’m all muddled up!” cried the old gentleman hare.
“Bing, bang, bung!
Your doorbell I have rung,
Now if my knocking you don’t hear
I’ll rattle every chandelier!”
shouted a voice.
“Wait, wait a minute,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck through the keyhole.
“Mr. John Hare is trying to open his safe. You make so much noise he
can’t find the combination.”
For a little while the knocking ceased. But, dear me! Uncle John Hare
couldn’t remember the combination. Scratching his long left ear with
his right hind foot, he turned to Little Jack Rabbit with a sigh.
“Maybe you can unlock it.”
But the little rabbit boy was no more successful. No indeed,
although he turned the knob around and started all over again. I
guess he never would have found the combination if Bobbie Redvest,
the dear little friendly robin, hadn’t hopped to the open window.
“Pull the little knob out just one inch,
Then say to yourself, ‘Why, it’s a cinch!’
Next, turn the knob to figure four
And you’ll have no trouble with the iron door,”
he whispered.
At once the little rabbit followed the pretty robin’s directions and
in less time than I can take to tell it, the safe door flew open and
out rolled a million carrot cents, each one counting out loud as
it touched the floor! “One, Two, Three,” and so on, right up to a
million! Wasn’t that wonderful? Well, I just guess it was. I never
had a Flying Eagle Cent that could count more than one!
“Get a bag,” whispered Uncle John Hare, and filling it with carrot
cents that good lady duck housekeeper opened the kitchen door, and
handed it to an ugly little dwarf.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, touching his red peaked hat with a
crooked forefinger. Then slinging the bag over his shoulder, he
trudged around the house and through the little gateway in the white
picket fence to the Fairy Forest that lay some two thousand hops to
the North of Turnip City.
“Has he gone?” asked Uncle John Hare, dusting off his knees and
pulling down his pink waistcoat. “Are you sure he’s gone?”
“Yes, yes,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, with a happy quack. “He’s gone,
thank goodness! I hope he’ll not come back for many a year.”
[Illustration: “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.]
“Never can tell,” mused the old gentleman rabbit. “The Ragged Rabbit
Giant will return more than a million carrot cents in less time than
that.”
“Trust the fairies,” cautioned Bobbie Redvest. “They have asked the
giant to lend them money,” and away fluttered the little bird to the
old apple tree.
But even after Bobbie Redvest had cautioned Little Jack Rabbit that
curious little bunny boy wanted to hop over to the Fairy Forest.
“No, sireebus!” cried Uncle John Hare. “You do what that little robin
says and you’ll not go far wrong.”
“All right, Uncle John,” answered the little bunny boy cheerfully,
for he was a good little rabbit and had learned to obey his elders
without sulking, which is the better way, after all. For when we do
a thing with a smile it’s so much easier. I wonder why, but maybe
you know, little reader. If not, Mother will tell you, as sure as
lollypops come on sticks and ice cream in cones.
Well, the little bunny boy rabbit had a lovely visit and when it came
time for him to take the Stagecoach home he kissed Uncle John Hare
good-by, nor did he forget Mrs. Daisy Duck. “Good-by, good-by!” he
shouted from his seat beside the Old Dog Driver.
“Come again soon,” cried the old gentleman hare, waving his stovepipe
hat. “Give my love to Mother.”
Away rattled the Billy Goat Stage Coach across Lettuce Square, down
Potato Street and out on Radish Road that led to Rabbitville, fifteen
thousand five hundred hops to the south.
By and by the Old Dog Driver took his pipe out of his mouth and
shouted, “Carrot City!” Then pulling in his team of billy goats,
waited for an old gander to alight. It took the old feathered
gentleman quite a while to flop down the two little steps at the
back of the stage, but at last he was safely on the ground. Then as
soon as a fat lady pig, wearing a purple sunbonnet and black mitts,
had seated herself, the Old Dog Driver clicked his teeth with his
tongue and said “Gid-ap!”
Away bounded the billy goat team, shaking their horns, which were
tipped with little gold thimbles, and throwing out their hoofs,
shod with bright steel shoes. By and by they came to Lettucemere, a
pretty village by the Bubbling Brook. Here the Lady Pig got out and
in jumped a big mooly cow. Mrs. O’Mooly was her name. She wore a big
yellow hat and a pink shirt waist and on her two hind feet a pair of
white kid boots. My, but she was a stylish looking lady cow.
“Gid-ap!” clicked the Old Dog Driver, and away went the nimble little
billy goats until by and by, after a while, and a bump and a smile,
they came to the Old Bramble Patch. There at the gate stood Lady
Love, the little rabbit’s pretty mother. Her simple gingham dress
with white lace collar seemed a beautiful gown to the little rabbit,
and her eyes two stars as she folded him to her breast and whispered,
“Home again to Mother.”
_Dear Little Boys and Girls:_
_Are you lonely because you and I have reached the end of the
story? Come closer. I’ve a secret to whisper. Already I have begun
to write “Little Jack Rabbit’s Big Red Book.” When it is finished
won’t we have a happy time reading it?_
_Your loving_
_Uncle Dave._
_Old Bramble Patch, Rabbitville,
Happy Days, 1924._
[Illustration:
Meet Uncle Lucky,
Kind and plucky.
Yours for a story
David Cory.]
[Illustration:
Heres Little Jack Rabbit
With a lollypop habit
Yours for a story
David Cory.]
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 189 Changed: master is kind and let’s
to: master is kind and lets