jokes!”
As the bear children and the kitten boy were picking up the scattered
sweet stuff, out came Uncle Wigwag from behind his tree.
“Ha! Ha!” he cried to Neddie. “I guess I fooled you after all, didn’t I?
And so you were going to fool me, too, eh? But Tommie got my joke
instead. Oh, dear!” and he laughed so hard that he got the hiccoughs,
and Aunt Piffy had to rush out of the cave-house to pat him on the back.
And then, all of a sudden, the bad bear, in whose nose Beckie had stuck
the needle when she was making her doll’s dress, came rushing up,
growling and wanting to bite some one. But Neddie Stubtail, brave little
chap that he was, threw a hard lollypop at the bad bear, hitting him on
his sore nose, making him cry, “Wow!” and run away off in the woods
where he belonged.
Then the rest of the candy was picked up, and Beckie and Neddie said
they were sorry they had tried to play the ice trick on Uncle Wigwag,
and everything was all right.
And on the next page, if the penholder doesn’t let the ink bottle fall
out of the window and make a black mark on the sidewalk, I’ll tell you
about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe.
STORY XVI
MR. WHITEWASH AND THE STOVE PIPE
“Oh, dear!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Where’s all that smoke coming from?”
“Oh, ker-choo! Wuzz! Fuzz!”
“Snicker-snacker-snookum!”
Every one seemed shouting at once.
There was great excitement in the cave-house, where the Stubtail family
of bears lived. Neddie and Beckie, the two little bear children, had
jumped out of bed and were choking and sneezing in the hall.
“Why, the house is filled with smoke!” cried out Aunt Piffy, the fat old
lady bear, and she puffed so hard because her breath nearly got away
from her, that she almost slid downstairs.
“Is the house on fire?” asked Papa Stubtail, as he looked around for a
pail of water.
“Maybe this is one of Uncle Wigwag’s tricks,” said Beckie, as she wiped
the tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t exactly crying, you understand,
but you know smoke always makes tears come into your eyes.
“No, no! There’s no fire!” called Mamma Stubtail, from down in the
kitchen. “I was getting breakfast when the stovepipe suddenly fell down.
I guess you’ll have to come and fix it, Hiram,” she called to Mr.
Stubtail. His first name was Hiram, you see.
“Let me do it,” said Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, and before any one
else could hurry down to the kitchen Mr. Whitewash had slid down the
stairs, and soon he had the stovepipe in place again, and the stove
cooked things without smoking, and Mrs. Stubtail finished getting
breakfast.
But that wasn’t all about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe. Just you wait
until you get to the end of the story and you’ll see.
Soon breakfast was over, and Beckie and Neddie had started for school.
Then Mr. Stubtail went to work, and Uncle Wigwag went over to call on
Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, to talk about Christmas
and Santa Claus.
That left Mr. Whitewash home with Mrs. Stubtail, who was washing the
breakfast dishes.
“How did the stovepipe happen to come down?” asked Mr. Whitewash,
curious-like.
“I guess it’s getting old and couldn’t stand up much longer,” answered
the lady bear. “The first I knew it had tumbled over and the smoke
poured out.”
“Yes, there was lots of smoke,” said Mr. Whitewash. “We all were
frightened. I must take a look at that pipe,” which he did, putting on
his glasses so he could see better.
“Ha!” he cried, after a bit. “I thought so. That stove needs a new pipe.
I’ll go after it and fix it before the children come home. Then we won’t
have any more trouble when you get up to get the breakfast, Mrs.
Stubtail.”
“That will be very kind of you,” said the lady bear.
So off Mr. Whitewash went to get the stovepipe. And very nice he looked,
too, walking along through the woods and over the fields, with his white
fur all combed out like a French poodle’s when he’s had his bath. Mr.
Whitewash was snow-white—and when he walked along sometimes his friends
took him for a snowman, and threw snowballs at him. But Mr. Whitewash
never minded that.
Well, he got to the stovepipe store all right, but the cow gentleman,
who kept it, said:
“I am very sorry, Mr. Whitewash, but we are all out of stovepipe this
morning. I expect some in at the end of the week.”
“But I cannot wait that long,” said the white polar bear gentleman. “Our
old pipe may fall down any day, and fill the house with smoke again.
Then the fire engines will come out and squirt water in our cave, and
there’ll be a terrible time. I must have some stovepipe.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the cow gentleman. “I sold some
pipe to Grandfather Goosey Gander, the duck gentleman, the other day,
and after he used it awhile he said he wanted a different kind.
“So he took down that I had sold him, and got some different kind. The
old pipe is out in his back yard now, and I think he would give it to
you.”
“It will do no harm to ask, anyhow,” said Mr. Whitewash.
Over he went to the house of Grandfather Goosey Gander, and there,
surely enough, was the pipe.
“Certainly you may have it,” said the duck gentleman. “I am glad to give
it to you. But be careful, for it is full of black soot, and it may get
on your white coat.”
“Oh, I can wrap it up in a paper,” said Mr. Whitewash, which he did.
Then, taking care not to get the stovepipe, though it was wrapped up,
against his snow-white fur, off Mr. Whitewash started for the
cave-house, where he lived with the Stubtail family.
Did you ever put up a stovepipe? No, I guess you did not. Well, it is
not easy work, as Mr. Whitewash soon found. Either the pipe he got from
Grandfather Goosey Gander was too large to fit in the chimney hole or
else the chimney hole was too small to let the pipe slide in. Anyhow,
Mr. Whitewash tried and tried again, and once more, but the pipe would
not fit.
“I guess I’ll have to get on a stepladder,” said the polar gentleman,
breathing hard.
“Oh, how black your paws are!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat lady bear.
“Yes, it comes off the stovepipe,” said Mr. Whitewash. “Please bring the
stepladder.”
So Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail went for the ladder, but in bringing it
through the kitchen door it slipped and caught on Mrs. Stubtail’s paws,
so that she fell down, and so did the fat lady; and Aunt Piffy lost her
breath.
Aunt Piffy could hardly get her breath back again, either, but she
caught it just as it was slipping out of the door and then she was all
right again—at least for a while.
“Now I guess I’ll fix this pipe!” cried Mr. Whitewash, as he stood upon
the ladder. Carefully he shoved the stovepipe into the chimney hole, but
still it stuck.
“It must go in!” cried the polar bear gentleman, “or else we can’t have
a fire in the stove to cook dinner.”
Then he gave a big push on the pipe. But something slipped. Part of what
slipped was the stepladder and the other part of what slipped was Mr.
Whitewash and the third part of it was the stovepipe.
Down they fell in a heap together on the floor.
“Oh!” screamed Aunt Piffy.
“Oh, me! Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Stubtail. “Shall I get the doctor?”
Mr. Whitewash didn’t say anything for a little while, and then he
remarked:
“Please get me a dusting brush!”
And he certainly needed it, for the soot from the stovepipe had
scattered all over him, and instead of being a pure white bear, he was
speckled black and white now, like those dogs which always run along
under a carriage.
But when Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail tried to brush the black soot off
Mr. Whitewash, they found they were only making it worse. The brush
scattered the black all over him instead of leaving it only in spots.
“I guess you had better not try,” said Mr. Whitewash. “I’ll take a bath
after I get this pipe up.”
“Can you get it up?” asked Mrs. Stubtail.
“Of course I can,” said Mr. Whitewash.
So up on the stepladder the polar bear gentleman got again, and he tried
to fix the stovepipe. He almost had it in the chimney hole, and he was
just getting ready to holler “Hurray!” when, all of a sudden, there was
a growling noise at the back door, and Mrs. Stubtail screamed:
“Oh, a lion! Here’s a lion coming after us!” and she and Aunt Piffy ran
in the parlor and hid under the sofa.
“Bur-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion. “I’m a bad chap from the circus; and
I’ve come after Beckie and Neddie!”
Then he roared again, and so loudly that he made the stepladder tremble.
This shook it so that Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, fell down again.
This time the stovepipe landed right on top of his head, like the tall
silk hat Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, wears. And the
soot from the stovepipe scattered all over Mr. Whitewash some more until
he was as black as a piece of coal.
“Get out of here!” called Mr. Whitewash to the bad lion, and the lion
was so scared at seeing a white bear suddenly turn black, and wear a
stovepipe for a hat, that he ran away as fast as he could, taking his
tufted tail with him. So he didn’t get Neddie or Beckie after all, and a
little later Mr. Whitewash got the pipe all nicely fixed.
Then he took a bath, for, oh! he was so black! But soon he was as nice
and white again as a French poodle. So there was no more trouble with
smoke in the Stubtail cave-house, and when Beckie and Neddie came home
from school they made molasses taffy on the stove.
So that’s all I can tell you now, but on the page after this, in case
our cat doesn’t try to walk the telephone wire and fall off into the
rose bush, I’ll tell you about Papa Stubtail in a trap.
[Illustration]
STORY XVII
PAPA STUBTAIL IN A TRAP
Now to-night I’m going to tell you a story about something sad that
happened to Hiram Stubtail, the papa bear. And I will not make it any
sadder than I can help. But still I have to tell things exactly as they
happened, or it would not be fair, and we must always try to be fair and
honest in this world, no matter what happens. Even when we’re sad we
must try.
But I will say this, though there is a sad part to the story, there is
also a glad part. And the glad part I’ll put in last, so that when you
go to bed you will dream about that. I always like to have pleasant
dreams; don’t you?
Once I dreamed I found a lot of money and to make sure I’d have it when
I awakened I put it under my pillow. But when I woke up the money was
all gone. Dream money always does that, you know. It disappears.
And once I dreamed I found a lollypop, and when I put my hand under my
pillow there it was—all sticky! My little girl had put it there to keep
safe for the night. So that part of my dream came true.
But I started to tell you about Papa Stubtail’s trouble, and I guess you
don’t want to hear about my troubles.
Anyhow, one Saturday, when there was no school, Beckie and Neddie
Stubtail, the two little bear children, started off to the woods to see
if they could have any fun. It was quite cold, and it seemed as if it
were going to snow, but they did not mind that, for they had on their
warm fur coats.
“I know what let’s do!” exclaimed Beckie. “Let’s go over and call on
Uncle Wiggily. You know since he found his fortune he has lots of money,
and he might give us some to get a popcorn ball with.”
“All right, I’ll go with you,” agreed Neddie. So they went to the house
of the old gentleman rabbit. They found him at home, and he was glad to
see them. And, surely enough, he gave each of the bear children a penny
to buy a popcorn ball. Bears are very fond of those sweet things, you
know.
Well, while Neddie and Beckie were enjoying the popcorn balls, their
papa had started to come home from where he worked in the bed factory,
making nice fuzzy mattresses, fluffing them up with his sharp claws, for
little bears to sleep on.
“I will go home a little early to-day,” said Mr. Stubtail, to himself,
“and take Neddie and Beckie to a football game. They will enjoy that.”
Well, as he was walking along, thinking how funny it was for Mr.
Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, to put up a stovepipe and get all
black—as Mr. Stubtail was thinking of this, I say—all of a sudden he
heard some one crying:
“Help! Help! Oh, will no one help me?”
“Ha! Who can that be?” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail, looking all around, and
thinking maybe it might be one of his own children, little Neddie or
Beckie, in trouble.
But he could see no one, though the voice still cried out:
“Help! Oh, please help me!”
“I would help you if I could see you,” said Mr. Stubtail, looking up and
down and sideways and even around the corner. Still he could see no one,
and then the voice said:
“Here I am, right down by this board fence!”
Then Mr. Stubtail looked more closely, and he saw, crouched on the
ground, at the bottom of a board fence, Jollie Longtail, the little boy
mousie.
“Oh, there you are!” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail. “But why are you crying,
Jollie, and why don’t you run away?”
“I can’t run away,” answered the mousie boy, “because my long tail is
fast through a knot hole in the fence, and that is the reason I am
crying.”
“Your tail fast through a knot hole in the fence?” exclaimed Mr.
Stubtail. “Why, how did that happen?”
“Well, you see,” explained Jollie. “I was creeping along here, looking
for a piece of cheese, when my tail slipped through the hole. And,
before I knew it, another boy mousie named Snippy-Snoopy, who doesn’t
like me, came along and tied a knot in my tail so I couldn’t pull it
back through the hole again. And here I am held fast. Will you please
untie the knot in my tail? I can’t reach it.”
“Oh course I will!” exclaimed the bear gentleman, and very gently, so as
not to hurt Jollie, he untied the knot in the mousie boy’s tail, so
Jollie could run along home.
“Oh, thank you so much!” he called to Mr. Stubtail, most politely. “And
if ever I can do you a favor I will!”
Then Mr. Stubtail hurried on home, thinking how nice it would be to take
Beckie and Neddie to the football game. And I guess Mr. Stubtail was in
such a hurry that he did not notice where he was going for, all of a
sudden, he stepped into a steel trap.
“Snap!” it went shut, catching him on the paw. And, oh! how it did hurt.
“My goodness me! Oh, dear! This is terrible!” cried Mr. Stubtail. “I am
caught!”
He tried to pull his paw out but the more he pulled the worse it hurt,
and he had to stop. Then he tried to lift up the trap in his other paw,
thinking maybe he could carry it to the blacksmith shop and have it
filed off. But the trap was fast to a tree by a big chain and Mr.
Stubtail could not get it loose. There he was caught fast.
This is the sad part of the story. I’ll make it just as short as I can
and get to the glad part.
Well, poor Mr. Stubtail stood there in the trap not knowing what to do.
He thought he would never see his home again, or his wife, or Neddie, or
Beckie, nor yet Mr. Whitewash and Aunt Piffy and Uncle Wigwag.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Mr. Stubtail. “What ever shall I do? Soon the hunter
who put this trap here will come along and get me. Then it will be all
up with Papa Stubtail.”
But just then he heard a little rustling in the dried leaves, and a tiny
voice asked:
“Can I help you, Mr. Stubtail?”
The bear gentleman looked down and saw Jollie Longtail, the mousie boy,
whose tail he had untied a little while ago.
“Oh, Jollie, it’s you, is it?” asked Mr. Stubtail. “No, I’m afraid you
can’t help me. You see, this trap and chain are made of iron, and though
you have very sharp little teeth to gnaw through wood, you can’t gnaw
iron.”
“No,” said Jollie, “I can’t do that, but maybe I could go and get help
for you.”
“So you can!” cried Mr. Stubtail, trying not to let the little mousie
boy see how much pain he was in. “The very thing, Jollie. Run home and
get Mr. Whitewash and Uncle Wigwag, and any one else you can, to come
and get me out of this trap before the hunter comes.”
Away ran the mousie boy as fast as he could go. But it was a long way to
the cave-house—not very far for a bear gentleman, perhaps, who can take
long steps, but quite a distance for a little mouse chap.
“But I’ll get there in time!” cried Jollie. “I must save Mr. Stubtail,
for he saved me. I’ll get there!”
Faster and faster he ran on. Once a bad fox tried to grab Jollie, but
the mousie hid under a log until the fox had passed on. Again a big
horned owl bird, with staring eyes, swooped down on him but Jollie
dodged under a stone and the bird stubbed its beak, and didn’t get the
mouse.
Then Jollie reached the cave-house and told what had happened to Mr.
Stubtail.
Mrs. Stubtail was so excited that she nearly fainted and fell into a tub
of water when she heard the news.
Aunt Piffy lost her breath completely this time, and it was several
seconds before Jollie could run after it for her and bring it back.
“What!” cried Neddie, for he and Beckie had come home. “My papa in a
trap!”
“Yes, and he needs help quickly!” cried Jollie.
“Then I’ll go get my uncle and Mr. Whitewash!” said Neddie. Off he
rushed to find Uncle Wigwag and the polar bear gentleman. They also got
Uncle Wiggily, and Gup, the kind, strong horse, and as many other animal
gentlemen as they could, and back they hurried to where Mr. Stubtail was
in the trap.
Together, with the help of a kind circus elephant, they pulled the trap
open and the bear gentleman was free. Then they all hurried away before
the hunter man, with his gun and dogs, could get them. Mr. Stubtail
limped a little and was lame for some time, but that is better than
staying forever in a trap.
When he got home his wife was out of the tub of water, and she and Aunt
Piffy made some nice salve for Mr. Stubtail’s sore foot. Then they had a
lovely supper with honey ice cream, and everybody was happy and they
couldn’t do enough for Jollie Longtail. And this is the glad part of the
story.
So this shows you that you should always untie a knot in a mousie’s tail
if you can, for you never can tell when a mousie might help you.
And no more to-night, if you please, but very soon, if the milkman’s
horse doesn’t come up on our front stoop and take our doormat to wipe
his feet on, I’ll tell you about Mamma Stubtail’s honey cakes.
STORY XVIII
MAMMA STUBTAIL’S HONEY CAKES
“Oh, mamma!” cried little Neddie Stubtail, the bear cub, as he got ready
to go to school one morning. “What is it that smells so good in your
kitchen?”
“What smells so good?” spoke Mrs. Stubtail, the mamma bear. “Well, I
don’t know. Maybe it’s the tea kettle boiling.”
“Oh, mamma, you’re joking just as Uncle Wigwag often does,” said Beckie,
the little bear girl. “I, too, smell something good. Are you making
candy?”
“Now, you children just run along to school and say your lessons,” said
Mrs. Stubtail, as she looked to see if there was any stove blacking on
her apron. But there was none, I’m glad to say.
“Little bears should be seen and not heard,” said Aunt Piffy, the fat
old lady bear, as she came up from down cellar, where she had been
looking to see if any dust had gotten in the eyes of the potatoes.
“Oh, but we smell something good!” cried Neddie. “Do tell us what it is,
mamma.”
Then he and his sister Beckie sniffed and snuffed real hard, to try and
find out what it was that smelled so good. It was like molasses candy
and popcorn and lollypops and ice cream cones, all rolled into one. But
Neddie and Beckie could not tell exactly what it was.
Anyhow, the school bell rang just then, and they had to run on to their
lessons, so they didn’t have time to find out what it was their mamma
was cooking in the kitchen that smelled so nice.
But at noontime, when they came home for dinner, they discovered the
secret. Neddie ate up his dessert and then he blinked both his eyes at
his sister Beckie. That meant, in bear language:
“Come on outside. I want to talk to you.”
Then Beckie wiggled both her ears and this meant: “All right. I’ll be
out in a minute.”
And when Beckie met Neddie outside the house and they were on their way
to school, Beckie asked:
“What is it, Neddie? What smelled so good?”
“It’s honey cakes,” said he.
“Honey cakes?” exclaimed Beckie. “Why, we don’t have them until
Christmas.”
“I know,” said Neddie, “but it’s almost Christmas now. Mamma is making a
lot of honey cakes. That’s what smelled so good this morning. They’ll be
done this afternoon and she’ll put them out on the back steps to cool,
as she always does.”
“Well, is that all?” asked Beckie, anxious-like.
“No, not quite,” said Neddie. “When we come home from school you and I
will go softly up on the back stoop and we’ll get some of the honey
cakes. They’ll be cool by then.”
“Oh, but that’s not right!” cried Beckie, “We can’t eat mamma’s honey
cakes without asking her.”
“I didn’t say anything about eating them,” spoke Neddie. “I just said
we’d take a few cakes in our paws. Then we’ll go to mamma and say we saw
the cakes out on the back stoop, and we’ll ask her if we can eat them.
Mind you, we won’t take so much as a smitch of one before we ask her!
“But when she sees we have the cakes of course she’ll let us take a
nibble. Even Aunt Piffy would do that. Otherwise we’d never get a honey
cake until Christmas. Will you do it?” asked Neddie.
“Oh, well; yes, I guess so,” said Beckie. “But I’m afraid it isn’t
exactly right.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” said Neddie. “Now, come on to school, and when we come
home this afternoon we’ll get some honey cakes.”
But I’m afraid, after all, that what Neddie was going to do was not
exactly right. However, let us see what happens, as the telephone girl
says.
Neddie and Beckie went on to school, but they did not do very well in
their lessons, for they were thinking so much about honey cakes. And if
they had known that Uncle Wigwag, the old bear gentleman, who was always
playing tricks, had heard them talking about what they were going to do,
maybe they would not have felt so happy.
For Uncle Wigwag, hiding behind a stump, had heard just what Neddie and
Beckie had planned to do to get some honey cakes. And the old joking
gentleman bear said to himself:
“Now, I’ll play a joke on those children. It isn’t right for them to do
that, and I’ll teach them a lesson.”
So he went out on the back steps, where the pans of honey cakes were
cooling. Honey cakes, you know, are made from honey and sugar and other
sweet things, and are very good. Little bear children love them more
than anything else.
“Let me see now. What trick shall I play?” said Uncle Wigwag to himself.
“Oh, I know. I’ll put a lot of glue on the back steps, and make them all
sticky like fly paper. Then, when Neddie and Beckie come up to get the
honey cakes they’ll step in the glue, and they’ll be held fast, and
they’ll make such a fuss that their mamma and Aunt Piffy will hear them.
They’ll come out, and I guess those bear cubs will never take any more
honey cakes without asking.”
So Uncle Wigwag got a lot of sticky glue from the doll factory where
they glue dolls’ wigs on, and he spread the sticky stuff all over the
back steps, where, on the top rail, Mrs. Stubtail had set the honey
cakes to cool.
Oh, how delicious they smelled! Uncle Wigwag could not help taking one,
but of course that was all right, as he paid his board to Mrs. Stubtail.
Then Uncle Wigwag spread out the sticky glue, taking care not to step in
it himself, and then he went and hid behind a stump to see what would
happen when Neddie and Beckie came softly along to get the honey cakes.
But something else happened. I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll
listen.
Neddie and Beckie hurried out of school that afternoon. They had managed
to get through their lessons, and were very anxious to eat some of the
honey cakes—that is, if their mamma would let them.
“I hope they’re out on the stoop when we get there,” said Beckie.
“Oh, you honey cakes!” exclaimed Neddie, jolly-like. “Of course they’ll
be there.”
And just then, as it happened, there was a bad old wolf behind the
fence. And he heard what the bear cub children were saying.
“Honey cakes, eh?” exclaimed the wolf. “I guess I’ll go get some for
myself.”
So he ran through the woods, a shorter way than Neddie and Beckie went,
and the old wolf got there first, just as the one did in the Little Red
Riding Hood story.
“Ah! ha!” exclaimed the wolf, as he smelled the honey cakes. “Now for a
good meal! I’m glad I heard Neddie and Beckie talking about this. Oh,
you honey cakes!”
The old wolf went softly to the stoop. He looked all around, but he saw
no one. Mrs. Stubtail was washing the dishes and Aunt Piffy had gone to
lie down and take a nap. Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, was over
visiting Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, and Uncle Wigwag,
as we know, was hiding behind the stump.
The wolf saw no one, and up the back steps he went to get the honey
cakes that were set out there to cool. But something happened.