UNCLE WIGGILY'S
STORY BOOK
+By+
HOWARD R. GARIS
AUTHOR OF
Uncle Wiggily's Airship; Uncle Wiggily's
Automobile; Uncle Wiggily on the Farm;
Uncle Wiggily's Travels
[Illustration]
+Platt & Munk+, _Publishers_
NEW YORK
_UNCLE WIGGILY'S STORY BOOK_
Copyright MCMXXI and MCMXXXIX
+By+
+Platt & Munk+
CONTENTS
STORY
I. +Uncle Wiggily's Toothache+
II. +Uncle Wiggily and the Freckled Girl+
III. +Uncle Wiggily and the Mud Puddle+
IV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Bad Boy+
V. +Uncle Wiggily and the Good Boy+
VI. +Uncle Wiggily's Valentine+
VII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Bad Dog+
VIII. +Uncle Wiggily and Puss in Boots+
IX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Lost Boy+
X. +Uncle Wiggily and Stubby Toes+
XI. +Uncle Wiggily's Christmas+
XII. +Uncle Wiggily's Fourth of July+
XIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Skates+
XIV. +Uncle Wiggily Goes Coasting+
XV. +Uncle Wiggily's Picnic+
XVI. +Uncle Wiggily's Rain Storm+
XVII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Mumps+
XVIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Measles+
XIX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Chicken-Pox+
XX. +Uncle Wiggily's Hallowe'en+
XXI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Poor Dog+
XXII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Rich Cat+
XXIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Horse+
XXIV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Cow+
XXV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Camping Boys+
XXVI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Birthday Cake+
XXVII. +Uncle Wiggily and the New Year's Horn+
XXVIII. +Uncle Wiggily's Thanksgiving+
XXIX. +Uncle Wiggily at the Circus+
XXX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Lion+
XXXI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Tiger+
XXXII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Elephant+
XXXIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Camel+
XXXIV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Wild Rabbit+
XXXV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Tame Squirrel+
XXXVI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Wolf+
UNCLE WIGGILY'S GREETING
+Dear Children+:
This is a quite different book from any others you may have read about
me. In this volume I have some adventures with real children, like
yourselves, as well as with my animal friends.
These stories tell of the joyous, funny, exciting and everyday
adventures that happen to you girls and boys. There is the story about
a toothache, which you may read, or have read to you, when you want to
forget the pain. There is a story of a good boy and a freckled girl.
And there is a story about a bad boy, but not everyone is allowed to
read that.
There is a story for nearly every occasion in the life of a little boy
or girl; about the joys of Christmas, of a birthday; about different
animals, about getting lost, and one about falling in a mud puddle. And
there are stories about having the measles and mumps, and getting over
them.
I hope you will like this book as well as you seem to have cared for
the other volumes about me. And you will find some beautiful pictures
in this book.
Now, as Nurse Jane is calling me, I shall have to hop along. But I hope
you will enjoy these stories.
Your friend,
+Uncle Wiggily Longears+.
Uncle Wiggily's Story Book
STORY I
UNCLE WIGGILY'S TOOTHACHE
Once upon a time there was a boy who had the toothache. It was not a
very large tooth that pained him, and, really, it was quite surprising
how such a very large ache got into such a small tooth. At least that
is what the boy thought.
"But I'm not going to the dentist and let him pull it!" cried the boy,
holding his hand over his mouth. "And I'm not going to let anybody in
this house pull it, either! So there!" He ran and hid himself in a
corner. Girls aren't that way when they have the toothache--only boys.
"Perhaps the tooth will not need pulling," said Mother, as she looked
at the boy and saw how much pain he had.
"That's so!" exclaimed Grandma, who was trying to think of some way
in which to help the boy. "Maybe the dentist can make a little hole in
your tooth, Sonny, and fill the hole with cement, as the man filled the
hole in our sidewalk, and then all your pain will stop."
"No, I'm not going to the dentist! I'm not going, I tell you!" cried
Sonny. And I think he stamped his foot on the floor, the least little
bit. It may have been that he saw a tack sticking up, and wanted to
hammer it down with his shoe. But I am afraid it was a stamp of his
foot; and afterward that boy was sorry.
But, anyhow, his tooth kept on aching, and it was the kind called
"jumping," for it was worse at one time than another. Sometimes the boy
thought the pain jumped from one side of his tongue to the other side,
and again it seemed that it leaped away up to the roof of his mouth.
The toothache even seemed to turn somersaults and peppersaults, and
once it appeared to jump over backward. But it never completely jumped
away, which is what the boy wished it would do.
"You'd better let me take you to the dentist's," said his Mother.
"He'll either fix the tooth so it won't ache any more, or he'll take it
out, so a new tooth will grow in. And, really, the pain the dentist may
cause will only be a little one, and it will be all over in a moment.
While your tooth may ache all night."
"No, I'm not going to the dentist! I'm not going!" cried Sonny boy, and
then again he acted just as if there were a tack in the carpet that
needed hammering down with his foot.
Now it was about this time that Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny
rabbit gentleman, was hopping from his hollow stump bungalow in the
woods to go look for an adventure. But, as yet, Uncle Wiggily knew
nothing about the boy with the toothache. That came a little later.
"Are you going to be gone long?" asked Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the
muskrat lady housekeeper, of the bunny gentleman.
"Only just long enough to have a nice adventure," answered Mr.
Longears, and away he hopped on his red, white and blue striped
rheumatism crutch, with his pink, twinkling nose held in front of him
like the headlight on a choo-choo train.
Now, as it happened, Uncle Wiggily's hollow stump bungalow was not far
from the house where the Toothache Boy lived, though the boy had never
seen the rabbit's home. He had often wandered in the woods, almost in
front of the bunny's bungalow, but, not having the proper sort of eyes,
the boy had never seen Uncle Wiggily. It needs very sharp eyes to see
the creatures of the woods and fields, and to find the little houses in
which they live.
At any rate the boy had never noticed Uncle Wiggily, though the bunny
gentleman had often seen the boy. Many a time when you go through the
woods the animal folk look out at and see you, when you never even know
they are there.
And pretty soon Uncle Wiggily hopped right past the house where the
Toothache Boy lived. And just then, for about the tenth time, Mother
was saying:
"You had better let me take you to the dentist and have that toothache
stopped, Sonny."
"No! No! I don't want to! I--I'm a--a--I guess it will stop itself,"
said the boy, hopeful like.
Uncle Wiggily, hiding in the bushes in front of the boy's house,
sat up on his hind legs and twinkled his pink nose. By a strange and
wonderful new power which he had, the bunny gentleman could hear and
understand boy and girl talk, though he could not speak it himself. So
it was no trouble at all for Uncle Wiggily to know what that boy was
saying.
"He's afraid; that's what the boy is," said the bunny uncle to himself,
leaning on his red, white and blue striped crutch. "He's afraid to
go to the dentist and have that tooth filled, or pulled. Now that's
very silly of him, for the dentist will not hurt him much, and will
soon stop the ache. I wonder how I can make that boy believe this? His
mother and grandmother can't seem to."
For Mr. Longears heard Mother and Grandma trying to get that Toothache
Boy to let them take him to the dentist. But the boy only shook his
head, and made believe hammer tacks in the carpet with his foot, and he
held his hand over his mouth. But, all the while, the ache kept aching
achier and achier and jumping, leaping, tumbling, twisting, turning and
flip-flopping--almost like a clown in the circus.
"No! No! I'm not going to the dentist!" cried the boy.
Then Uncle Wiggily had an idea. He could look in through the window of
the house and see the boy. In front of the window was a grassy place,
near the edge of the wood, and close by was an old stump, shaped almost
like the easy chair in a dentist's office.
"I know what I'll do," said Uncle Wiggily. "I'll make believe I have
the toothache. I'll go get Dr. Possum and I'll sit down in this stump
chair. Then I'll tell Dr. Possum to make believe pull out one of my
teeth."
"I s'pose if Nurse Jane were here she might ask what good that would
do?" thought Uncle Wiggily. "But I think it will do a lot of good. If
that boy sees me, a rabbit gentleman, having a tooth pulled, which is
what he will think he sees, it may make him brave enough to go to the
dentist's. I'll try it."
Away hopped Uncle Wiggily to Dr. Possum's office.
"What's the matter? Rheumatism again?" asked the animal doctor.
"No, but I want you to come over and pull a tooth for me," said
Uncle Wiggily, blinking one eye, and twinkling his pink nose
surreptitious-like.
"Pull a tooth! Why, your teeth are all right!" cried Dr. Possum.
"It's to give a little lesson to a boy," whispered the bunny, and then
Dr. Possum blinked one eye, in understanding fashion.
A little later Uncle Wiggily sat himself down on the old stump that
looked like a chair, and Dr. Possum stood over him.
"Open your mouth and show me which tooth it is that hurts," said Dr.
Possum, just like a dentist.
"All right," answered Uncle Wiggily, and, from the corner of his left
eye the bunny gentleman could see the Toothache Boy at the window
looking out. The boy saw the rabbit and Dr. Possum at the old stump,
and he saw Mr. Longears open his mouth and point with his paw to a
tooth.
"Oh, Mother!" cried the boy, very much excited. "Look! There's a funny
rabbit, all dressed up in a tall silk hat, having a tooth pulled.
Grandma, look!"
"Well, I do declare!" murmured the old lady. "Isn't that perfectly
wonderful! I didn't know that animals ever had the toothache!"
"Oh, I s'pose they do, once in a while," said the Toothache Boy's
mother. "But see how brave that rabbit gentleman is! Not to mind having
the animal dentist stop his ache! Just fancy!"
Neither Grandma nor Mother said anything to Sonny Boy. All three of
them just stood at the window, and watched Uncle Wiggily and Dr.
Possum. And, as they looked, Dr. Possum put a little shiny thing, like
a buttonhook, in the bunny gentleman's mouth. He gave a sudden little
pull and, a moment later, held up something which sparkled in the sun.
It was only a bit of glass, which Uncle Wiggily had held in his paw
ready for this part in the little play, but it looked like a tooth.
"Well, I declare!" laughed Grandma. "The bunny had his tooth pulled!"
"And he doesn't seem to mind it at all," added Mother.
Surely enough, Uncle Wiggily hopped off the make-believe dentist-stump,
and with his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, began to
dance a little jiggity-jig with Dr. Possum.
"This dance is to show that it doesn't hurt even to have a tooth
pulled; much less to have one filled," said the bunny.
"I understand!" laughed Dr. Possum. And as he and Uncle Wiggily danced,
they looked, out of the corners of their eyes, and saw the Toothache
Boy standing at the window watching them.
"Well, I never, in all my born days, saw a sight like that!" exclaimed
Grandma.
"Nor I," said Mother. "Isn't it wonderful!"
Sonny Boy took his hand down from his mouth.
"I--I guess, Mother," he said, as he saw Uncle Wiggily jump over his
crutch in a most happy fashion, "I guess I'll go to the dentist, and
have him stop my toothache!"
"Hurray!" softly cried Uncle Wiggily, who heard what the boy said.
"This is just what I wanted to happen, Dr. Possum! Our little lesson is
over. Now we may go!"
Away hopped the bunny, to tell Nurse Jane about the strange adventure,
and Dr. Possum, with his bag of powders and pills on his tail, where he
always carried it, shuffled back to his office.
Sonny Boy went to the dentist's, and soon his tooth was fixed so it
would not ache again. He hardly felt at all what the dentist did to him.
"I--I didn't know how easy it was 'till I saw the rabbit have his tooth
pulled," said the boy to the dentist.
"Hum," said the dentist, noncommittal-like, "some rabbits are very
funny!"
And if the puppy dog doesn't waggle his tail so hard that he knocks
over the milk bottle when it's trying to slide down the doormat, I
shall have the pleasure, next, of telling you the story of Uncle
Wiggily and the freckled girl.
STORY II
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE FRECKLED GIRL
Uncle Wiggily was hopping through the woods one summer day, when, as he
happened to stop to get a drink of some water that the rain-clouds had
dropped in the cup of a Jack-in-the-pulpit flower, the bunny gentleman
heard a girl saying:
"Oh, I wish I could get them off! I wish I could scrub them off with
sandpaper, or something like that! I've tried lemon juice and vinegar,
but they won't go. And oh, they make me so homely!"
Uncle Wiggily stopped suddenly and rubbed the end of his pink,
twinkling nose with the brim of his tall, silk hat.
"This is very queer," said the bunny uncle to himself. "I wonder what
is it she has tried to take off with lemon juice? She seems very
unhappy, this little girl does."
The bunny uncle looked through the trees and, seated on a green,
mossy stump, he saw a girl about ten or twelve years old. She held a
looking-glass in her hand, and as she glanced at her likeness in the
mirror she kept saying:
"How can I get them off? How can I make them disappear so I will be
beautiful? Oh, how I hate them!"
"What in the world can be the matter?" thought Uncle Wiggily to
himself. For, as I have told you, the bunny gentleman was now able to
hear and understand the talk of girls and boys, though he could not
himself speak that language.
He hopped a little closer to the unhappy girl on the green, mossy
stump, but the bunny stepped so softly on the leaf carpet of the forest
that scarcely a sound did he make, and the girl with the mirror never
heard him.
"I wonder if I said a little verse, such as I have read in fairy books,
whether they would go away?" murmured the girl. "I've tried everything
but that. I'll do it--I'll say a magical verse! But I must make up one,
for I never have read of the kind I want in any book."
She seemed to be thinking deeply for a moment and then, shutting her
eyes, and looking up at the sun which was shining through the trees of
the wood, the girl recited this little verse:
"Sun, sun, who made them come,
Make them go away.
Then I'll be like other girls,
Happy all the day!"
"This is like a puzzle, or a riddle," whispered Uncle Wiggily to
himself, as he kept out of sight behind a bush near the stump. "What
is it she wants the sun to make go away? It can't be rain, or storm
clouds, for the sky is as blue as a baby's eyes. I wonder what it is?"
Then, as the girl took up the mirror again, and looked in it, Uncle
Wiggily saw the reflection of her face.
It was covered with dear, little brown freckles!
"Ho! Ho!" softly crooned Uncle Wiggily to himself. "Now I understand.
This girl is unhappy because she is freckled. She thinks she doesn't
look pretty with them! Why, if she only knew it, those freckles show
how strong and healthy she is. They show that she has played out in the
fresh air and sunshine, and that she will live to be happy a long, long
while. Freckles! Why, she ought to be glad she has them, instead of
sorry!"
But the girl on the stump kept her eyes shut, clenching the mirror in
her hand and as she held her face up to the sun she recited another
verse of what she thought was a mystic charm.
This is what she said:
"Freckles, freckles, go away!
Don't come back any other day.
Make my face most fair to see,
Then how happy I will be!"
Slowly, as Uncle Wiggily watched, hidden as he was behind the bush, the
girl opened her eyes and held up the looking-glass. Over her shoulder
the bunny gentleman could still see the freckles in the glass; the
dear, brown, honest, healthy freckles. But when the girl saw them she
dropped the mirror, hid her face in her hands and cried:
"Oh, they didn't go 'way! They didn't go 'way! Now I never can be
beautiful!"
Uncle Wiggily twinkled his pink nose thoughtfully.
"This is too bad!" said the bunny gentleman. "I wonder how I can help
that girl?" For, since he had helped the Toothache Boy by letting Dr.
Possum pretend to pull an aching tooth, the bunny gentleman wanted do
other favors for the children who loved him.
"I'd like to make that girl happy, even with her freckles," said the
bunny. "I'll hop off through the woods, and perhaps I may meet some of
my animal friends who will show me a way."
The bunny gentleman looked kindly at the girl on the stump. She was
sobbing, and did not see him, or hear him, as she murmured over and
over again:
"I don't like freckles! I hate them!"
Away through the woods hopped Uncle Wiggily. He had not gone very far
before he heard a bird singing a beautiful song. Oh, so cheerful it
was, and happy--that song!
"Good morning, Mr. Bird!" greeted Uncle Wiggily, for you know it is the
father bird who sings the sweetest song. The mother bird is so busy,
I suppose, that she has little time to sing. "You are very happy this
morning," the rabbit said to the bird.
"Why, yes, Uncle Wiggily, I am very happy," answered Mr. Bird, "and so
is my wife. She is up there on the nest, but she told me to come down
here and sing a happy song."
"Why?" asked the bunny.
"Because we are going to have some little birds," was the answer.
"There are some eggs in our nest, and my mate is sitting on them to
keep them warm. Soon some little birds will come out, and I will sing a
still happier song."
"That's fine," said Uncle Wiggily, thinking of the unhappy freckled
girl on the stump. "May I see the eggs in your nest?"
"Of course," answered the father-singer. "Our nest is in a low bush,
but it is well hidden. Here, I'll show you. Mrs. Bird will not mind if
you look."
The father bird fluttered to the nest, and Mrs. Bird raised her fluffy
feathers to show Uncle Wiggily some beautiful blue eggs.
"Why--why, they're _freckled_!" exclaimed the bunny gentleman. "Aren't
you birds sad because you have freckled eggs? Why, your little birds
will be freckled, too! And, if they are girl birds they will cry!"
"Why?" asked Mr. Bird in surprise. "Why will our girl birdies cry?"
"Because they'll be _freckled_," answered the bunny. "I just saw a girl
in the woods, crying to break her heart because she is freckled!"
"Nonsense!" chirped Mrs. Bird. "In the first place these are not
freckles on my eggs, though they look so. My eggs are spotted, or
mottled, and they would not be half so pretty if they were not colored
that way. Besides, being spotted as they are, makes them not so easily
seen in the nest. And, when I fly away to get food, bad snakes or cats
can not so easily see my eggs to eat them. I just love my _freckled_
eggs, as you call them!" laughed Mrs. Bird.
"Well, they are pretty," admitted Uncle Wiggily. "But will your little
birds be speckled, too?"
"Not at all," sang Mr. Bird. "Say, Uncle Wiggily!" he whistled, "if
we could get that girl here so she could see our spotted eggs, and
know how beautiful they are, even if they are what she would call
'freckled'; wouldn't that make her happier?"
"Perhaps it would," said the bunny rabbit. "I never thought of that.
I'll try it! You will not be afraid to let her see your eggs, will
you?" he asked.
"No; for girls are not like some boys--they don't rob the nests of
birds," replied the mother of the speckled eggs. "Bring the unhappy
girl here, and Mr. Bird and I will hide in the bushes while she peeps
into our nest."
"I will!" said Uncle Wiggily.
Away he hopped through the woods, and soon he came to the place where
the freckled girl was still sobbing on the stump.
"Now how can I get her to follow me through the woods, to see the nest,
when I can't talk to her?" whispered Uncle Wiggily.
Then he thought of a plan.
"I'll toss a little piece of tree-bark at her," chuckled the bunny.
"That will make her look up, and when she sees me I'll hop off
a little way. She'll follow, thinking she can catch me. But I'll keep
ahead of her and so lead her to the woods. I want to make her happy!"
The bunny tossed a bit of bark, hitting the girl on her head. She
looked around, and then she saw Uncle Wiggily, all dressed up as he was
with his tall silk hat and his red, white and blue striped rheumatism
crutch.
"Oh, what a funny rabbit!" exclaimed the girl, smiling through her
tears, and forgetting her freckles, for a while at least. "I wonder if
I can catch you?" she said.
"Well, not if I know it," whispered Uncle Wiggily to himself, for he
knew what the girl had said. "But I'll let you think you can," the
bunny chuckled to himself.
He hopped on a little farther, and the girl followed. But just as she
thought she was going to put her hands on the rabbit, Uncle Wiggily
skipped along, and she missed him. But still she followed on, and soon
Uncle Wiggily had led her to the bushes where the birds had built their
nest.
Mr. and Mrs. Bird were watching, and when they saw Uncle Wiggily and
the freckled girl, Mr. Bird began to sing. He sang of blue skies,
or rippling waters of sunshine and sweet breezes scented with apple
blossoms.
"Oh, what a lovely song!" murmured the freckled girl. "Some birds must
live here. I wonder if I could see their nest and eggs? I wouldn't hurt
them for the world!" she said softly.
Uncle Wiggily shrank back out of sight. The girl looked around for the
singing birds, and just then the wind blew aside some leaves and she
saw the nest. But she saw more than the nest, for she saw the eggs that
were to be hatched into little birds. And, more than this; the girl saw
that the eggs were spotted or mottled--freckled as she was herself!
"Oh! Oh!" murmured the girl, clasping her hands as she looked down at
the speckled eggs in the nest. "They have brown spots on, just like my
face. They are _freckled eggs_--but, oh, how pretty they are! I never
knew that anything freckled could be beautiful! I never knew! Oh, how
wonderful!"
As she stood looking at the eggs, Mr. Bird sang again, a sweeter song
than before, and the wind blew softly on the freckled face of the
unhappy girl--no, not unhappy now, for she smiled, and there were no
more tears in her eyes.
"Oh, how glad I am that the funny rabbit led me to the nest of
freckled eggs!" said the girl. "I wonder where he is?"
She looked around, but Uncle Wiggily had hopped away. He had done all
that was needed of him.
The mother bird softly fluttered down into her nest, covering the
beautiful mottled eggs with her downy wings. She was not afraid of the
girl. The girl reached out her hand and timidly stroked the mother
bird. Then she gently touched her own freckled cheeks.
"I'm never going to care any more," she whispered. "I did not know that
freckles could be so pretty. I'm glad I got 'em!"
The freckled girl walked away, leaving the mother bird on the nest,
while the father of the speckled eggs, that soon would be little birds,
sang his song of joy. The freckled girl, with a glad smile on her face,
went back to the stump, and, without looking into the mirror, she
tossed the bit of looking-glass into a deep spring.
"I don't need you any more," she said, as the glass went sailing
through the air. "I know, now, that freckles can be beautiful!"
And if the pussy cat doesn't think the automobile tire is a bologna
sausage, and try to nibble a piece out to make a sandwich for the rag
doll's picnic, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the mud
puddle.
STORY III
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE MUD PUDDLE
Did you ever fall down in a mud puddle? Perhaps this may have happened
to you when you were barefooted, with old clothes on, so that it did
not much matter whether you splashed them or not.
But that isn't what I mean.
Did you ever fall into a mud puddle when you had on your very best
clothes, with white stockings that showed every speck of mud? If
anything like that ever happened to you, when you were going to
Sunday-school, or to a little afternoon tea party, why, you know how
dreadfully unhappy you felt! To say nothing of the pain in your knees!
Well, now for a story of how a little boy named Tommie fell in a mud
puddle, and how Uncle Wiggily helped him scrub the mud off his white
stockings--off Tommie's white stockings I mean, not Uncle Wiggily's.
Tommie was a little boy who lived in a house on the edge of the wood,
near where Uncle Wiggily had built his hollow stump bungalow. No,
Tommie wasn't the same little boy who had the toothache. He was quite a
different chap.
One day the postman rang the bell at Tommie's house, and gave Tommie a
cute little letter.
"Oh, it's for me!" cried Tommie. "Look, Mother! I have a letter!"
"That's nice," said Mother. "Who sent it to you?"
"I'll look and tell you," answered the little boy. The writing in the
letter was large and plain, and though Tommie had not been to school
very long he could read a little. So he was able to tell that the
letter was from a little girl named Alice, who wanted him to come to a
party she was going to have one afternoon a few days later.
"Oh, may I go?" Tommie asked his mother.
"Yes," she answered.
"And wear my best clothes?"
"Surely you will put on your best clothes to go to the party," said
Mother. "And I hope you have a nice time!"
Tommie hoped so, too. But if only he had known what was going to
happen! Perhaps it is just as well he did not, for it would have
spoiled his fun of thinking about the coming party. And half the fun
of nearly everything, you know, is thinking about it beforehand, or
afterward.
At last the day came for the tea party Alice was to give at her home,
which was a little distance down the street from Tommie's house.
"Oh, how happy I am!" sang Tommie, as he ran about the porch.
But when, after breakfast, it began to rain, Tommie was not so happy.
He stood with his nose pressed against the glass of the window until
it was pressed quite flat. I mean his nose was flat, for the glass was
that way anyhow, you know. And Tommie watched the rain drops splash
down, making little mud puddles in the street.
"Can't I go to Alice's party if it rains?" asked Tommie.
"Well, no, I think not," Mother answered. "But perhaps it will stop
raining before it is time for you to go. You don't have to leave here
until after lunch."
Tommie turned again to press his nose against the glass, glad that the
rain was outside, so that the drops which rolled down the window could
not wet his face. And he hoped the clouds would clear away and that the
sun would shine before the time for the party.
Now about this same hour Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit
gentleman, was also looking out of the window of his hollow stump
bungalow in the woods, wondering, just as Tommie wondered, whether the
rain would stop.
"But surely you won't go out while it is still raining," said Nurse
Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper.
"No," answered Uncle Wiggily, "my going out is not so needful as all
that. I was going to look for an adventure, and I had rather do that in
the sunshine than in the rain. I can wait."
And then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" sang Tommie, as he danced up and down. "Now I can go
to the party!"
"And I can go adventuring," said Uncle Wiggily. Now of course he did
not hear Tommie, nor did the little boy hear the bunny. But, all the
same, they were to have an adventure together.
Tommie had been ready, for some time, to start down the street to go
to the party Alice was giving for her little girl and boy friends. All
that Tommie needed, now, was to have his collar and tie put on, and
his hair combed again, for it had become rather tossed and twisted
topsy-turvy when he pressed his head against the window, watching the
rain.
"Be careful of mud puddles!" Tommie's mother called to him, as, all
spick and span, he started down the street toward the home of Alice, a
block or so distant. "Don't fall in any puddles!"
"I'll be careful," Tommie promised.
And as Uncle Wiggily started out about this same time for his
adventure, Nurse Jane called to the bunny:
"Be careful not to get wet on account of your rheumatism."
"I'll be careful," promised Uncle Wiggily, just as Tommie had done.
Now everything would have been all right if Tommie had not stubbed his
toe as he was going along the street, about half way to the party. But
he did stumble, where one sidewalk stone was raised up higher than
another, and, before he could save himself, down in the mud puddle fell
poor Tommie! He fell on his hands and knees, and they were both soaked
in the muddy water of the puddle on the sidewalk.
Of course it did not so much matter about Tommie's hands. He could
easily wash the mud and brown water off them. But it was different with
his white stockings. Perhaps I forgot to tell you that Tommie wore
white stockings to the party. But he did, and now the knees of these
stockings were all mud!
And as he looked at his mud-soiled stockings, and at his hands, from
which water was dripping down on the sides of his legs, Tommie could
not help crying.
"I can't go to the party this way!" sobbed Tommie to himself, for he
was big enough to go down the street alone, and there were no other
children on it just then. "I can't go to the party this way! But if I
go home Mother will make me change my things, and I'll be late, and
maybe she won't let me go at all! Oh, dear!"
And in order to keep out of sight of any other boys or girls who might
come along, Tommie stepped behind some bushes that grew along the
street.
[Illustration: He looked down at his mud-soiled stockings]
And what was his surprise to see, sitting on a stone, behind this same
bush, an old gentleman rabbit, wearing glasses, and with a tall silk
hat on his head. On the ground beside him was a red, white and blue
striped crutch, for rheumatism.
But the funniest thing about the rabbit gentleman (who, as you have
guessed, was Uncle Wiggily), the funniest thing was that he had a bunch
of dried grass in one paw, and he was busy scrubbing some dried spots
of mud off his trousers. So busy was Uncle Wiggily doing this that he
neither saw nor heard Tommie come behind the bush. And Tommie was so
surprised at seeing Uncle Wiggily that the little boy never said a word.
"Why--why!" thought Tommie, as he saw the bunny take up a pine tree
cone, which was like a nutmeg grater, and scrape the dried mud off his
trousers, "he must have fallen into a mud puddle just as I did!"
And that is just what had happened to Uncle Wiggily. He had been
walking along, thinking of an adventure he might have, when he splashed
into a puddle and spattered himself with mud!
But, instead of crying, Uncle Wiggily set about making the best of
it--cleaning himself off so he would look nice again, to go in search
of an adventure.
"I'll let the mud dry in the sun," said Uncle Wiggily out loud,
speaking to himself, with his back partly turned to Tommie. "Then it
will easily scrape off."
The sun was so warm, after the rain, that it soon dried the mud on the
bunny gentleman's clothes, and with the bunch of grass, and the sharp
pine tree cone, he soon had loosened the bits of dirt.
"Now I'm all right again," said Uncle Wiggily out loud. And though
of course Tommie did not understand rabbit talk, the little boy could
see what Uncle Wiggily had done to help himself after the mud puddle
accident.
"I say!" cried Tommie, before he thought, "will you please lend me that
pine tree cone clothes brush? I want to clean the mud off my white
stockings so I can go to the party!"
Uncle Wiggily looked up in surprise! He had not known, before, that
Tommie was there; but the bunny heard what the little boy said. With a
low and polite bow of his tall silk hat, Uncle Wiggily tossed the bunch
of grass and the pine cone to Tommie. By that time the mud had dried so
the little boy could scrape most of it off his stockings.
"I hope you have a nice time at the party," said Uncle Wiggily, in
rabbit language, of course. And then, as Tommie scraped the last of the
dried mud away, leaving only a few spots on his stockings, the bunny
gentleman hopped out of the bush and on his way.
"And I can go to Alice's house without having to run home to change my
stockings," thought Tommie. "I wonder who that rabbit was?"
And when Tommie reached the party he found that he was not the only
little boy who had fallen in a mud puddle. The same thing had happened
to Sammie and Johnnie, two other boys.
"But how did you get your stockings so clean, without going home and
changing them?" asked the other boys of Tommie.
"Oh, an old rabbit gentleman, with a tall silk hat and a red, white
and blue crutch showed me how to scrape off the dried mud with a pine
cone," Tommie answered. "I cleaned my white stockings as the bunny
brushed his clothes."
"Oh, is that a fairy story?" cried the boys and girls at Alice's party.
"Well, he _looked_ like a fairy!" laughed Tommie, who had washed his
hands in the bath room at Alice's house, so they were clean for eating
cake and ice cream. "And I'm not afraid of mud puddles any more. I know
what to do if I fall in one," said Tommie.
And if the onion doesn't make tears come into the eyes of the potato
when they're playing tag around the spoon in the soup dish, the next
story will be about Uncle Wiggily and the bad boy.
STORY IV
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE BAD BOY
Once upon a time there was a bad boy. He lived on the edge of the wood
in which Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, had built
his hollow stump bungalow. The bad boy did not know Uncle Wiggily, but
Mr. Longears knew about the bad boy, and so did Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy,
the bunny's muskrat lady housekeeper.
"Don't ever go near that bad boy's house," said Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy one
morning, as the rabbit gentleman started out with his red, white and
blue striped rheumatism crutch.
"Why not?" asked Uncle Wiggily.
"Because," answered Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy, "that boy will throw stones at
you, and maybe hit you on your pink, twinkling nose."
"He can't throw stones now," said Uncle Wiggily. "He can't find any.
The ground is covered with snow."
"Then he'll throw snowballs at you," said the muskrat lady housekeeper.
"Please keep away from him."
"I'll think about it," promised the bunny gentleman, as he hopped away,
with his tall, silk hat on his head.
Now you know why, once upon a time, there was a bad boy. He was bad
because he threw stones and snowballs at rabbits and other animals.
There were more things bad about him than this, but one is enough for a
story.
Uncle Wiggily hopped on and on, across the fields and through the
woods, and soon he came to the house of the bad boy. It was a regular
house, not a hollow stump bungalow, such as that in which Mr. Longears
lived.
"I wonder if there isn't any way of making that bad boy good?" thought
the bunny rabbit gentleman. "Bad boys aren't of much use in the world,
but good boys, or girls, who put out crumbs for the hungry birds to eat
in winter--they are of great use in the world! I wonder if I could make
that bad boy good?"
But, no sooner had Uncle Wiggily began to wonder in this fashion, than,
all of a sudden, he heard a loud voice shouting:
"Hi! There he is! A rabbit! I'm going to throw a snowball at him!"
Uncle Wiggily looked over his shoulder and saw the bad boy rushing out
of his house, followed by another boy.
"Oh, what a nice, funny rabbit!" cried the second boy. "He looks as if
he came from a circus--all dressed up!"
"I'll make him turn a somersault if I can whang him with a snowball!"
shouted the bad boy, running toward the bunny gentleman.
"Perhaps I had better be going," said Uncle Wiggily, who could
understand boy and girl talk, though he could not speak it himself.
"I'll wait until some other day about trying to make this boy good."
Mr. Longears started to run, but he had not taken many hops before,
all of a sudden, he felt a sharp, thumping pain in his side, and he was
almost knocked over by a snowball thrown by the bad boy.
"Hi there! I hit him! I hit him!" howled the bad boy, dancing up and
down.
"Yes," sadly said the other chap. "You hit him, but what good did it
do?"
"It shows I'm a straight shot!" proudly answered the other. "Maybe I
can catch that rabbit now."
He ran over the snow. But though Uncle Wiggily had been knocked down by
the ball thrown by the bad boy, the rabbit gentleman managed to get to
his feet, and away he hopped on his rheumatism crutch--so fast that the
bad boy could not get him.
Then the bad boy and the other chap, who was not so bad, played in the
snow, until it was time to go home. Uncle Wiggily hopped to his hollow
stump bungalow, but he said nothing to Nurse Jane about the pain in his
side.
"If I tell her she won't let me go out to the movies to-night with
Grandpa Goosey," thought Mr. Longears.
So, though his side pained him, Uncle Wiggily said never a word, but
early that evening he hopped over to Grandpa Goosey's home in the duck
pen. And on the way Uncle Wiggily had to pass the house of the bad boy.
"But it is getting dark, and he will not see me," thought the bunny
gentleman. "I guess it will be safe."
Now it happened that, just as Uncle Wiggily was hopping under the
window of the bad boy's house, the bunny heard a voice inside saying:
"Oh, dear! How my ear aches! Oh, what a pain! Can't you do something to
stop it, Mother?"
"If I had some soft cotton I could put a little warm oil on it and
that, in your ear, would make it feel better," answered a lady's voice.
"But I have no cotton in the house. If you'll wait until I go to the
drug store----"
"No! No!" howled the voice of the bad boy. "I don't want you to go to
the store and leave me alone! Can't you get some cotton without going
to the store?"
"No," answered the mother. "You shouldn't have played out in the cold,
and thrown snowballs at the rabbit. You must have gotten some snow in
your ear to make it ache!"
"Oh, do something to make it stop!" cried the bad boy. "Oh, why haven't
we some cotton?"
Uncle Wiggily, outside under the window, heard all this talk. Now
the bunny gentleman knew where to find something like cotton without
going to the drug store. Inside each of the big brown buds of the
horse-chestnut tree is a little wad of cotton. Mother Nature puts the
cotton there to keep the bud warm through the winter, so green leaves
will come out in the spring.
Uncle Wiggily looked around and saw, lying on the snow, a branch which
the wind had broken from a horse-chestnut tree. Hopping across the
newly-fallen spring snow to this branch, Uncle Wiggily gnawed off some
of the buds. Breaking these open with his teeth, he took out some of
the soft, fluffy cotton.
"I'll just leave this on the bad boy's doorstep," thought the bunny.
"I'll tap with my crutch and hop away."
So the bunny gentleman, with the wad of cotton, skipped up the front
steps of the house when no one saw him. His paws made funny little
marks in the soft snow. Uncle Wiggily put the cotton on the sill,
tapped once, twice, three times with his rheumatism crutch, and then
hopped away.
"Somebody's at the door!" said the bad boy. "Maybe that's daddy coming
home, so he can go to the drug store and get that cotton for my aching
ear."
"Maybe," said his mother. "I hope it is."
She opened the door, and when she saw there the bunch of cotton--just
what she wanted--you can imagine how surprised she was!
"Why, who could have left it?" asked the bad boy, when his mother told
him what had happened. "Who do you s'pose did?"
"I don't know," she answered. "But I saw some rabbit tracks in the snow
on our steps."
"Rabbit tracks?" repeated the boy, wonderingly, as his mother softly
put some warm cotton and oil in his ear, making the pain almost stop.
"Yes, rabbit tracks," said Mother. "And, if I were you, I'd never throw
any more snowballs at rabbits."
The boy (I'll not call him bad any more) put his head down on the
pillow of his bed. He could go to sleep now, as the pain in his ear had
almost stopped.
"I wonder if that funny rabbit, dressed up like a little old man, could
have brought me the cotton?" said the boy.
"I wonder, too," softly spoke Mother with a smile.
"Anyhow, I won't ever throw stones or snowballs at rabbits any more,"
promised the boy.
"Or cats or dogs, either?" his mother asked.
"Or cats or dogs, either," added the boy.
Then he went to sleep, and Uncle Wiggily, picking the bits of fuzzy
horse-chestnut tree cotton off his tall, silk hat, hopped on to Grandpa
Goosey's house and went to the movies.
So that's the story of the bunny gentleman and the bad boy, and I hope
you liked it. But if the rag doll's go-cart doesn't race with the baby
carriage and slip on the banana skin as though it had on roller skates,
I'll tell you in the next story about Uncle Wiggily and the good boy.
STORY V
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE GOOD BOY
"Now do be careful to-day, please, Uncle Wiggily," begged Nurse
Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper of the bunny rabbit
gentleman, as he hopped down off the steps of his hollow stump bungalow
one morning.
[Illustration: "Now do be careful to-day."]
"Careful? Why, I'm always careful," answered the bunny, as he twinkled
one side of his pink nose and looked to make sure that his red, white
and blue striped rheumatism crutch was not painted green. "Don't you
think so, Nurse Jane?" asked Mr. Longears.
"Indeed I do not," Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy answered. "You get so excited,
looking for adventures, that you don't care whether you are chased by
the Pipsisewah or Skeezicks."
"But I always get away from them; don't I?" asked Uncle Wiggily.
"And the Woozie Wolf, the Fuzzy Fox and even the Skillery Scallery
Alligator. I always get away, Nurse Jane."
"It is hard work for you, sometimes," said the muskrat lady. "I do
wish you would be more careful, Wiggy. Besides, these new adventures
of yours--helping real girls and boys out of their troubles--are
dangerous. Of course, I love children, and I know you do, also. But
some day you'll be caught by one of these bad boys or girls."
"There aren't any bad girls," laughed Uncle Wiggily. "They are just a
bit funny; that's all. As for bad boys; well, I hope to see them all
turn good. And, anyhow, the children love me so much I don't believe
they'll harm me."
"Well, you'd better be careful just the same," Nurse Jane said. Then
she went in to dust the dishes and sweep the furniture, and Uncle
Wiggily hopped over the fields and through the woods, looking for an
adventure.
The bunny gentleman had not gone far from his hollow stump bungalow
before he saw a crowd of boys on their way to school. One of the boys
had a tin can in his hand, and another carried a piece of rope.
"Oh, maybe those boys are going camping," thought Uncle Wiggily,
"and they're going to build a campfire and cook their carrot soup,
or whatever they eat, in the tin can over the fire. I'll hide in the
bushes and watch them. And I can hear what they say."
By means of a gift which a good fairy gave him, Uncle Wiggily, for
a time, was able to hear and understand the talk of boys and girls,
though he could not, himself, speak their language. He wanted to hear
what these boys would say, so the bunny gentleman hid in the bushes.
The boys came along, laughing, shouting and trying to sing, but that
last they did not do as well as girls would have done. Somehow or
other, girls are better singers than boys.
Well, anyhow, the boys came nearer to where Uncle Wiggily was hiding in
the bushes, and, all of a sudden, one of the lads gave a whoop like a
wild Indian, and cried:
"There's a dog! Let's get him!"
"There, now!" thought Uncle Wiggily to himself. "I knew boys were good.
They want to take that dog with them to camp and give him some of the
soup they are going to boil in the tin can. I hope they don't give it
to him too hot, though, and burn his tongue."
Uncle Wiggily peeked over the top of the bush, and saw one of the boys
chasing the dog. It was a little dog; rather thin, so you could almost
count his ribs, and he did not seem to have had much to eat of late.
And as soon as the dog saw the boy running after him, that dog began to
run also.
"Why, that's queer," said Uncle Wiggily. "Why does the dog run away
from that good boy? If I were only nearer I'd tell the dog that the boy
is going to be kind to him and give him tomato-can camp-soup."
"Oh, let the dog go!" called a red-haired boy to the one who was
running along with the tin can in his hand.
"No, I'm going to catch him and tie this tin can on his tail," the
first boy answered. "You ought to see how fast he'll run when he has
this tin can on his tail!"
"Dear me!" thought Uncle Wiggily, hardly able to believe what he heard.
"Tie a tin can on a dog's tail! And I thought that boy was going to be
kind! Oh, oh, what a mistake I made!"
Most of the boys turned off on another path and went to school, but the
one with the tin can chased after the dog, and another boy, who seemed
very nice and quiet, stayed near the bush, behind which Uncle Wiggily
was hidden. Finally the boy with the tin can caught the poor, thin,
yelping dog, and carried him back to the bush.
"Where's that piece of rope?" asked the bad boy, holding the yelping,
squirming little dog under one arm, while in the other hand he carried
the empty tin can.
"What are you going to do with the rope?" asked the quiet boy. He held
his hands behind his back.
"I'm going to use the rope to tie this tin can on the dog's tail,"
answered the bad boy. "That's what I am!"
"Then I won't give it to you," spoke the quiet lad. "I'm not going to
let you tie any tin can to a dog's tail if I can help it! There! You
can't have the rope!"
With a sudden motion he threw, away over in the weeds, the rope, which
he had picked up after another lad had dropped it to go to school.
"Oh, ho! So that's what you're going to do, is it?" cried the bad boy.
"I'll fix you for that!"
He dropped his tin can; but still holding the poor dog under his arm,
the bad boy rushed at the quiet chap.
"I'll make you get that rope and help me tie the tin can on this dog's
tail!" cried the bad boy.
"I think it is about time for me to do something," said Uncle Wiggily
to himself. The bunny gentleman, hidden behind the bush, had heard all
that was said.
All of a sudden, just as the bad boy was going to hit the quiet lad,
for not helping to tie the tin can on the dog's tail, Uncle Wiggily
turned, and, in the soft sand and dirt, began to dig very fast with his
paws.
Now a rabbit gentleman is one of the best diggers in the world. With
his paws he can make himself a burrow, or underground house, almost
before you can eat a lollypop. And Uncle Wiggily, pawing in the dirt,
made a regular shower of sand, gravel and little stones fly right in
the face of the bad boy.
By looking over his shoulder Uncle Wiggily could see which way to dig
so that the sand would go in the eyes of the bad boy, but not in the
face of the one who was kind to animals.
Whiff! Whiff! Whiff! the sand, gravel and little stones shot over the
top of the bushes, and spattered all over the bad boy.
"Say! Who's doing that?" cried the unkind chap, trying to hold his arm
in front of his face to keep the sand out of his eyes. "If you fellows
don't stop that----"
But he couldn't say any more, for a lot of sand went flying into his
mouth. He dropped the poor, thin dog, who ran away and hid himself in a
hollow tree, and then the bad boy had to use both hands to wipe out the
gravel that rattled down inside his shirt, and so he couldn't hit the
kind boy.
"Who's scattering that gravel?" cried the bad boy, scowling.
"I don't see anyone," said the other, smiling.
But there was Uncle Wiggily, behind the bush, scattering the gravel
with his paws in a regular shower.
"I wish Nurse Jane could see me now," chuckled the bunny gentleman.
"She surely would laugh."
At last so much gravel, sand and little stones showered into the face
of the bad boy that he ran away, crying:
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Something terrible must have happened! I guess I'd better
not tie any tin cans on dogs' tails any more."
"I guess you'd better not," said the other boy.
"And I say the same," laughed Uncle Wiggily, as he brushed some dust
off his tall, silk hat, and straightened his necktie. Then the bunny
gentleman watched, while the kind boy went to the hollow tree and
patted the poor, frightened little dog. And then this boy hid the tin
can where no other boys could find it, and went on to school.
And I think--mind you I'm not sure--but I think that bad boy turned
good after that. Anyhow if he didn't he ought to.
"Well, I had quite an adventure," said the bunny rabbit gentleman, as
he hopped on to his hollow stump bungalow. "A very good adventure!"
And if the jumping jack doesn't cut a slice off the mud pie with the
bread-knife, and tell the rag doll it's a piece of chocolate cake, I'll
tell you next about Uncle Wiggily's valentine.
STORY VI
UNCLE WIGGILY'S VALENTINE
Uncle Wiggily quickly hopped across the room and closed the door of his
hollow stump bungalow, where he was busy in the sitting room. He heard
Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy coming along.