SNOWED IN
The autumn days passed swiftly. Yellow, crimson, and russet leaves
fluttered to the ground. Early in the mornings the grass was frosted in
white.
Granny, Mother Graymouse and Aunt Squeaky were busily preparing for
winter. In the cool cave behind their bungalow, were rows of jelly
glasses; boxes of tiny red apples from the orchard; plenty of little
potatoes which the hired men had left in Mr. Giant's garden, and a bucket
of fish which Scamper and Limpy-toes had caught and Uncle Squeaky had
salted.
"Ah, it is good to have a plenty!" sighed Granny. "Last winter we wondered
how we should get our supply of fruit and vegetables. Now we have 'em all
stored up. Surely we shall soon start for our dear attic home."
"It is lovely by the Lake," said Mother Graymouse. "I'd like to see ice on
the pond before we go home."
"Why, Betsey Graymouse, we would all freeze!" cried Granny.
"It would be horrid," shivered Aunt Squeaky.
Dot Squeaky closed her summer school when the cool days came, and bade her
little pupils good-by until another year.
Limpy-toes worked, whenever Grand-daddy could spare him, upon his broken
automobile. He bent and patched and mended it until at last the poor old
machine would go once more.
"But it is a worse chug-chug than ever," sighed Limpy-toes. "Some day I
will build a better one and lock it away from Wiggle's mischievous paws."
Dr. Whiskers shut up Wild Rose Cottage and they all moved over to Gray
Rock until they should leave the Lake. But Mrs. Jack Rabbit got a bad
cold; Wee Field-Mouse was ill; Squire Cricket sprained his ankle, and all
the little Spiders had the measles.
"I cannot leave all these sick folk, Granny," decided Dr. Whiskers.
"There'll be sick folk all winter, Zenas. Must we stay and freeze to
death? We'll get sick, also. You promised to go home before snow-time,"
sobbed Granny.
"So we will, Granny, so we will. The weather is still mild. Never fear;
have I not taken good care of you all?"
Then came a day, when to Granny's great joy, Uncle Squeaky announced that
they would begin to pack next morning.
"The ground is hard and smooth. It will be easy to pull our cart. We must
start before the heavy rains begin," he planned, "for after that there
will be deep, frozen ruts."
That last night by the Lake was a merry one. The Field-Mouse family came
to spend the evening. Buster sang his sweetest songs, the kiddies recited
verses they had learned at school, and Uncle Squeaky's band played for the
last time.
"I'll take our instruments over to Wild Rose Cottage and lock 'em up
tomorrow," planned Limpy-toes.
"It doesn't seem possible that we shall be back in our attic tomorrow
night," said Dot.
"I thought we'd be there long ago," sighed Granny. "Your Grand-daddy is
getting slow in his old age."
"Not slow, Granny, just moderate," corrected Grand-daddy. "Which reminds
me of two mice I once knew. One mouse never would hurry. Ah, he was slow!
He said he'd get through this world soon enough if he went slowly."
Uncle Squeaky hopped up.
"And so, kiddies," he chuckled, "he went poking along like this. He
drawled and he droned and was always an hour behind time. Finally the old
sleepy-head laid down and died."
"Just so, Hezekiah," nodded Grand-daddy.
The kiddies laughed at Uncle Squeaky's droll antics.
"You walked like Grandpa Turtle, Uncle," laughed Nimble-toes.
"Well," continue Grand-daddy "the other young mouse thought life was so
short that he must move like a whirlwind or his work would not get done."
"And so," explained Uncle Squeaky, "he went on a hop, skip and jump like
this. He made dust fly in other folks' eyes, a-hustling and a-bustling
about until he hardly knew if he was on his head or his heels."
They all shouted as Uncle Squeaky pranced about the room, his coat tails
flying out straight behind him.
"I've always believed in being moderate. Neither too fast nor too slow,"
finished Grand-daddy.
"Do stop being such a clown, Hezekiah," scolded Aunt Squeaky. "Give us a
little more music. We shall not hear our band again all winter."
"We have to be real quiet in the Giant's house. Let's stay here with Pa
Field-Mouse where we can do as we choose," grinned Uncle Squeaky.
"We are going home tomorrow, Hezekiah Squeaky," said Granny firmly.
[Illustration: _"And so," explained Uncle Squeaky, "he went on a hop,
skip and jump like this."_]
Tomorrow came.
"What makes it so dark?" wondered Limpy-toes. He lighted a lantern and
looked at his watch.
"It is after sun-up, Mammy!" he called. "You don't suppose we are snowed
in?"
Uncle Squeaky opened the door. In tumbled a mass of drifted snow.
"Just so, Limpy-toes!" he exclaimed. "Clear up to our roof!"
"We cannot haul our furniture today," said Grand-daddy.
"Snowed in?" wailed Granny. "Ah, whatever will become of us?"
"We will stay right in our cosy bungalow, Granny, until the snow melts,"
said Uncle Squeaky. "We have plenty of chips and pine cones to keep us
warm, and tasty food stored up to eat. We can be comfortable and happy."
"It is a lovely adventure," smiled Dot. "Aren't you glad it snowed,
Silvy?"
"Ah, yes," replied Silver Ears, "for now we can stay longer by the Lake.
Perhaps Limpy-toes will make us a sled and some skates."
"Don't worry, Granny," said Mother Gray-mouse cheerily. "Grand-daddy and
Hezekiah will take care of us. After the storm, they can tramp to the
store on the frozen crust and fetch some cheese, matches and sugar.
By-and-by, the ground will be bare and they can pull our furniture cart
home. Debbie likes winter in the country. I shall enjoy staying a little
longer."
There was a scraping sound outside the door.
"Pa Field-Mouse and Nimble-toes have tunnelled under the snow!" exclaimed
Aunt Squeaky. "Now we can visit Debby. It is nice to have neighbors in the
Cosy Retreat."
"A bad storm, Hezekiah," greeted Pa Field-Mouse. "Guess you'll stay with
us a spell longer, Dr. Whiskers."
"Ma sent this thistle-down," said Nimble-toes. "She says it will make warm
beds for you."
"Very kind of Debby, I'm sure," said Uncle Squeaky. "We'll be very fine in
our downy beds. I will ask Lady Spider to spin us some silk draperies for
the windows, Granny. She will do anything we ask. The woodland folk all
love Dr. Whiskers. And no wonder. Never a bit of reward has he taken for
all the wonderful cures he has made. We'll have a jolly winter, if we must
stay. I think it will be grand. Something new in our lives, Granny."
Granny shook her head dolefully.
"Of course the kiddies think it is very fine to be snowed in, but I think
the rest of you might have more sense," she scolded. "Come and sit by your
old Granny, Buster, and sing your sweet song about our dear attic home."
Buster grinned mischievously.
"I'll sing you a newer one, Granny," he offered sweetly. He folded his
paws as Mammy had taught him long ago, tossed his head high and sang
merrily:
"Softly all the night long
Fell the snowflakes white;
Jolly little snowflakes,
Such a pretty sight!
"All the pines and hemlocks,
See them bending low;
We are warm and cosy
In our bungalow.
"So we'll play our music,
Sing our songs of cheer;
For we love the snow-time
Best of all the year."
[Illustration: _He folded his paws as Mammy had taught him long ago,
tossed his head high and sang merrily._]
"We love our attic home best of all, Buster Graymouse!" sobbed Granny.
"And we can't see the pines and hemlocks bending low. We can't see
anything. Ah, dearie me! Snowed in, so far away from our home! It is the
first time that Grand-daddy Whiskers ever broke a promise to me. It all
comes of his being a doctor! Ah, dearie me, what will happen to us before
Spring?"
"That is a question for a wise mouse to answer, but I'm hoping that the
next happening will be hot griddle cakes for our breakfast," chuckled Dr.
Whiskers.
End of Project Gutenberg's Grand-Daddy Whiskers, M.D., by Nellie M. Leonard