stung a hole in every one of the toy circus balloons that floated on
top of the rabbit gentleman’s airship.
“Oh, I must get away from here!” cried Uncle Wiggily, and, making his
airship go as fast as he could, the rabbit gentleman was soon far
away from the bad wasp.
But alas! Likewise unhappiness. The balloons were filled with holes,
from the sting of the wasp, and all the air began leaking out of
them. The airship began to fall, having nothing to hold it up.
“Oh, my!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Here I go again!”
And down to the ground he came, only the sofa cushions in the
clothes basket made a soft place for him on which to fall, and so he
was not hurt.
“Oh, dear!” Uncle Wiggily exclaimed. “My airship is spoiled!” He
tried to make it go up again, but, of course, it would not, with the
balloons all burst as they were, so they could not hold air.
“What am I to do?” asked Uncle Wiggily. “I should have brought along
a yeast cake, as Nurse Jane told me to do, and then I could rise.
Alas, now I cannot go up like a loaf of bread.”
“Oh, yes you can, Uncle Wiggily!” exclaimed a voice near him, and
there stood Arabella, the chicken girl, with her pipe, and bowl of
soap suds for blowing bubbles.
“How can I go up when the balloons are burst?” asked the rabbit
gentleman.
“With my soap bubbles!” cackled Arabella. “Soap bubbles are very
light, and will rise in the air just like balloons. I will blow you a
lot of bubbles, you can fasten them to your airship, and up you will
go.” Then she blew forty-’leven bubbles, or maybe more, for all I
know. Uncle Wiggily caught them, and fastened them with silk threads,
and cobwebs, which a kind spider lady spun for him, to his clothes
basket airship, just as the toy circus balloons had been fastened.
And the bubbles were so light, and went up in the air so nicely,
that they took the airship and Uncle Wiggily up with them. The old
gentleman rabbit just had time to thank Arabella for blowing the soap
bubbles for him, and then he was far above the trees, sailing away.
“Arabella was certainly a smart chicken girl to think of raising my
airship with soap bubbles!” cried Uncle Wiggily, and then later on he
stopped in the drug store, and had a quart of strawberry ice cream
sent to the hencoop for the little chicken girl, and the old rabbit
gentleman took another quart home for Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy. So you
see, sometimes it is a good thing to have a wasp sting toy circus
balloons on an airship.
And, on the page after this, if the vegetable man doesn’t put an
orange on our clothes post, for the pussy cat to play tag with, I’ll
tell you about Uncle Wiggily and the cake of ice.
STORY XXI
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE CAKE OF ICE
“My goodness me sakes alive and a bushel of apple sauce!” exclaimed
Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, one evening.
She had come out on the front porch of the hollow stump bungalow
and was fanning herself with a cabbage leaf, left over from Uncle
Wiggily’s supper.
“Why, what in the world is the matter, Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy?” asked the
old rabbit gentleman, as he looked up at the tip of his ear to see if
a mosquito was sitting there in a rocking chair. But none was, I am
glad to say. “What is the matter, Nurse Jane?” he asked.
“Matter!” cried the muskrat lady, “it is so very hot! That is what’s
the matter. And it will be warmer to-morrow!”
“How can you tell?” Uncle Wiggily wanted to know. “To-morrow is not
here yet, and when it comes it will be to-day instead of to-morrow.”
[Illustration: Uncle Wiggily flying away]
“I suppose that is one of your jokes,” spoke Nurse Jane, as she
tied her tail in two knots and part of another one, so she would not
step on it when she danced the corn meal flop, which she and Uncle
Wiggily did every evening. “Another joke, eh, Wiggy, about to-morrow
never coming?” repeated Nurse Jane.
“Oh, I will have my joke once in a while,” chuckled the rabbit
gentleman. “But what makes you think it is going to be so warm?” and
Uncle Wiggily took a drink of boiled ice cream cone soda water, so he
would not catch cold.
“I can tell it is going to be warm because the sunset is so red and
fiery,” answered Nurse Jane, as she looked over toward the West,
where the sun was going to bed.
“Well, tell Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, to leave us
an extra large piece of ice to-morrow, if it going to be so hot,”
said Uncle Wiggily. Then he went over to call on Grandfather Goosey
Gander, the goose gentleman, who was out raking up his corn meal
garden, so he could have pancakes for breakfast.
The next day was indeed very hot. Nurse Jane arose very early, and
the first thing she did was to put out, on the front porch of the
hollow stump bungalow, a card which had printed on it, in large
letters, the word:
ICE.
“There!” exclaimed Nurse Jane, as she gave the rose geranium flower a
drink of buttermilk, “Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, will
see that sign and bring us a nice large cake of ice.”
But nothing ever turns out, in this world, the way you think it is
going to. At least it never does for me. Many a time I have made up
my mind, in the morning, that in the evening I would go to a moving
picture show. But, when evening came, time and time again, I have had
to go to a baseball game. Still one cannot help it. I only mention
that to show that you never can tell what will happen.
Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy could not, either. When she put out the ice
sign she certainly thought Mr. Whitewash would bring in a nice, large
cake. But he did not. In fact, Mr. Whitewash did not even see the
sign.
What happened was this: Soon after Nurse Jane put out the cardboard
notice, along came Billie Bushytail, the boy squirrel, and his
brother Johnnie.
“Oh, Johnnie,” cried Billie, pointing with his paw. “There’s a fine
piece of cardboard to make a lemonade sign for us. We can write on
the back of it, ‘LEMONADE: FIVE CENTS A GLASS,’ and put it up over
our stand.”
“So we can!” exclaimed Billie. Then the squirrel boys, not meaning
to do anything wrong, you understand, took down the ice sign Nurse
Jane had hung out on Uncle Wiggily’s porch. And those squirrel boys
made another sign on the back of the piece of pasteboard, advertising
their lemonade sale, which they held on their lawn. I’ll tell you
about that in another story.
Well, it got warmer and warmer, and it was nearly noon. The small
piece of ice in Nurse Jane’s refrigerator had melted and she needed
more.
“I wonder what has happened to Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear?” she
remarked. “He hasn’t come yet.” She went out to look down the street,
and she saw Mrs. Wibblewobble, the duck lady, on her porch.
“Has the Polar ice bear been past yet?” asked Nurse Jane.
“Long ago,” answered Mrs. Wibblewobble. Then Nurse Jane saw that her
sign was gone, and though she did not know who had taken it, she knew
the ice bear had not seen it, and that was the reason he brought in
no ice. When he saw no sign he supposed his animal customers wanted
no ice, and drove on.
“Oh, dear!” cried Nurse Jane. “No ice, and it is very hot. It is
hotter even than I thought it would be. My butter will melt and the
milk will sour. Oh, what shall I do?”
“Hush! Calm yourself, my dear! Have no fear!” exclaimed Uncle
Wiggily. “I will go down in my airship to the factory where Mr.
Whitewash, the Polar bear gentleman, makes his ice, and bring a cake
home for you.”
“That will be lovely!” cried Nurse Jane, fanning herself with the
coal shovel, she was so excited-like.
It did not take Uncle Wiggily long to go after the cake of ice, as
his airship went very fast. Soon he was on his way back to the hollow
stump with it, flying very swiftly, and thinking how nice it would be
to have a glass of ice water.
But, as he rode along over the tree-tops, down below he heard voices
crying:
“Why, it’s raining! It’s raining hard!” A number of the animal people
were running in the house after their umbrellas.
“Raining!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “It isn’t raining, or I’d feel the
drops. Besides, there isn’t a cloud in the sky!”
“The rain is coming from your airship!” cried Sammie Littletail,
the boy rabbit who stood down below on the ground. “The water is
dropping from your airship.”
“Oh, it is the cake of ice! The ice is melting and running through
the holes in the clothes basket,” spoke Uncle Wiggily. And, surely
enough, the cake of ice had melted and the water of it fell from
the airship and made every one think it was raining. And when Uncle
Wiggily reached the hollow stump, there was not a bit of ice left—it
had all melted.
But, as it happened, Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear gentleman, came
past on his return trip and in his wagon, where it could not melt,
he had a big cake of ice. This he gave to Nurse Jane, for her
refrigerator and all was well. Everybody was happy, and Uncle Wiggily
said the next time he went after a cake of ice he would wrap it up in
a blanket so it would not melt and make his friends believe it was
raining, when it was not.
So that shows you a hot day is of some use after all, and on the page
after this if the lemonade pitcher doesn’t go to the ink well for a
glass of jelly, I’ll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and Charlie Chick.
STORY XXII
UNCLE WIGGILY AND CHARLIE CHICK
“Well, what are you doing, Charlie, my boy?” asked Uncle Wiggily
Longears, the rabbit gentleman, of the little chicken chap, one day,
as he saw Charlie on the shores of the duck pond with some boards, a
hammer, a saw, some nails, a fishpole and part of a bed sheet. “What
are you making, Charlie?”
“I am going to make a sailboat and go sailing across the duck pond,”
replied Charlie, as he ruffled up his tail feathers and made a polite
bow. Chicken boys always ruffle up their tail feathers when they bow.
It’s a way they’ve been taught at school, so Charlie did just right,
you see.
“A sailboat, eh?” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily. “Well, I hope you have a
nice sail on the duck pond.”
“Thank you, Uncle Wiggily. Don’t you want to come with me?” asked
Charlie still more politely as he gave a little crow. Whenever a
chicken chap gives you an invitation to go anywhere with him, he
always crows. They are brought up that way, so Charlie did the right
act again, you see.
“Sail with you? No, I thank you, Charlie,” replied Uncle Wiggily.
“You see, I am on my way in my airship to go to the store for Nurse
Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy. She wants some oranges to put in the potato cakes
for supper. Some other time I will sail with you.”
And the old rabbit gentleman, who really was out for a sail in
his airship, started off again for the store. He had been sailing
overhead, but, when he saw Charlie on the shore of the duck pond,
Uncle Wiggily came down to see what the chicken boy was doing.
“Well, now if I hoist my sail on the fishpole I think my boat will be
finished, and I can cross the duck pond,” said Charlie to himself,
after a bit. He had hammered and sawed and pounded, nailing together
board and stick, until really he had made quite a nice chicken boat.
So, while Uncle Wiggily was on the way to the store in his airship,
Charlie started to sail across the duck pond, which was very large
just then, as so much water had rained in it.
“Oh, this is great!” Charlie crowed, as the wind blew on his sail and
pushed the boat along through the water. “I only wish I had some of
my friends aboard to enjoy it with me.”
Charlie was always that way—not a bit selfish.
So he sailed and he sailed, back and forth across the pond, and, now
and then, he looked up to the sky to see if he could see any signs of
Uncle Wiggily coming back. But he saw nothing of the rabbit gentleman
in his airship.
But the wind, which had been blowing more and more gently, suddenly
stopped altogether, and there Charlie’s boat was, becalmed out in the
middle of the duck pond, far from shore.
“Oh ho!” cried Charlie. “This is not very pleasant. I wonder how I am
going to get to shore?”
He looked all about him, but he could see no way of getting to dry
land unless the wind should blow him. For Charlie had in his boat no
oars, so he could not row. He had no pole with which to push, though
he might have taken down the fishpole on which was fastened his sail.
But he did not want to do this.
“And the duck pond is too deep for me to wade,” said Charlie to
himself, “and I cannot swim. Now, if I were only a duck, I would be
all right. I could then jump off and swim. But, as it is, I must stay
here until the wind comes again, to blow on my sail and send me to
shore.”
So Charlie waited, and it was not much fun. It grew late, and soon,
he knew, it would be supper time. Still he was out in the middle of
the duck pond, far from shore.
“Help! Help!” crowed Charlie. “Will no one help me get to land in my
boat?”
No one answered him. If Lulu or Alice or Jimmie Wibblewobble, the
duck children, had been near there I am sure they would have helped
Charlie. But all the ducks were away that day, having gone to a
Mother Goose party. So no one heard Charlie call.
“Oh, if there was only some wind!” cried the chicken boy. “I think I
shall whistle for a breeze, as I have read of sailors doing when they
want their boats to go.”
So Charlie whistled all the tunes he could think of, such as: “Please
Don’t Tip the Milk Can Over,” and “Who Put Soap in Dollie’s Eye?”
But, no matter how much the chicken boy whistled, no breeze came to
blow against his sail and waft him to shore.
“Well, I guess I will have to blow my own wind,” said Charlie, after
a bit. “That may help.” So he puffed up his chest, and through his
bill he blew a strong blast on the sail. But it did no good, any more
than it would do you good if you took hold of your shoe laces and
tried to raise yourself up off the floor.
“Oh, dear!” cried Charlie. “I guess I’ll have to stay here all night,
and I want to be home for supper, because they’re going to have corn
meal shortcake. Oh will no one help me?”
But no one came near the duck pond and no wind blew, and the boat was
still out in the middle of the water. It did look as though Charlie
would be out all night, as he once was with the wild turkey.
“Oh, will no one help me?” cried Charlie, for the last time.
“Yes, I will!” shouted a voice up in the air, and Charlie, who was
just going to put his head under his wing and go to sleep, roused up
and crowed:
“Oh, are you going to help me? Who are you?”
“Uncle Wiggily Longears, in his airship!” was the answer. “I see
what is the trouble. You have no wind for your sailboat. Here, catch
that!” And, hovering up in the air over the chicken boy’s boat, the
rabbit gentleman dropped down a clothes line he had bought in the
store for Nurse Jane. “Hold fast to that, Charlie!” cried Uncle
Wiggily. “I’ll keep hold of my end and I’ll soon pull you to shore
with my airship.”
Charlie held the rope tightly in his claw, and off started Uncle
Wiggily in the airship, towing the chicken boat along over the
duck pond. Soon he was safe on shore and, after thanking the rabbit
gentleman; Charlie said:
“The next time I go sailing I am going to take a balloon full of wind
along with me to blow my sail. Then I will be all right.”
So this shows you a clothes line is good for something, after all,
and on the page after this, if our window shade doesn’t roll up so
fast that it jumps through the dish pan, like a circus lady off
an elephant’s back, I’ll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and Lulu
Wibblewobble.
STORY XXIII
UNCLE WIGGILY AND LULU WIBBLEWOBBLE
“My goodness me sakes alive, and some peanut pancakes!” cried Nurse
Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady, as she saw Uncle Wiggily,
the rabbit gentleman, out in the yard one day punching some sofa
cushions. “What in the world are you doing, Wiggy?” asked Nurse Jane.
“Well,” replied the old gentleman rabbit for whom the muskrat lady
kept house, “I am trying to make these sofa cushions softer, if you
please, Nurse Jane.”
“Softer? What for?” she asked.
“So they will be easier for me to fall on, in case I have any
accidents when out riding in my airship,” replied Uncle Wiggily. “You
see, I am sort of shaking up the feathers inside the cushions, by
punching them with my paws. Not to hurt them! No, indeed, not for the
world would I hurt the feathers,” cried the rabbit gentleman.
“So that’s why you are punching the cushions?” asked Nurse Jane, as
she folded her long tail around her neck to keep the mosquitoes from
biting her. “Well, all I have to say is, Wiggy, that you never will
make your cushions soft that way.”
“No?” asked Uncle Wiggily, sort of surprised like.
“No, indeed,” answered Nurse Jane. “The trouble is that you need more
feathers in the cushions. That will make them nice and soft for you
to fall on in case your airship turns a somersault.”
“Good!” cried the old rabbit gentleman. “I am glad you mentioned it.
I will take a ride over to the Wibblewobble duck penhouse at once,
and have Mrs. Wibblewobble put more feathers in the cushions. That
will make them lovely and soft. Queer, isn’t it, that I should have
thought punching the pillows was the proper thing to do—very queer,
wasn’t it, Nurse Jane?”
“Oh, well, you are often queer, Wiggy,” she said, calling him that
for short. “Once more doesn’t make much difference.”
So Nurse Jane went in the house to give the breakfast dishes their
bath, and put talcum powder on them, and Uncle Wiggily started off
in his airship for the Wibblewobble duck house to have the old sofa
cushions made over, with new feathers inside.
Away he sailed, above the tree tops, in the clothes basket of his
airship, with red, white and blue toy circus balloons lifting him,
the Japanese umbrella keeping off the sun and the electric fan in the
back going around whizzie-izzie, like anything; if you will kindly
allow me to say so.
Uncle Wiggily sat on the old sofa cushions, and he did not sail very
high up in the air on this trip.
“For,” said the rabbit gentleman to himself, “if I should have an
accident, and fall from a great height, I might get hurt, as the
cushions are so thin.”
You see Uncle Wiggily always carried these sofa cushions in the
clothes basket part of his airship, where he sat to steer it.
Pretty soon he was at the duck house.
“Will you please fix my sofa cushions for me, by stuffing them with
new feathers?” he asked the duck lady.
“To be sure I will,” answered Mrs. Wibblewobble, with a polite quack.
“Give them to me.”
Uncle Wiggily took the sofa cushions out of his clothes basket
airship, and Mrs. Wibblewobble began filling them with some of her
old feathers she did not need any more. All of a sudden, along came
Lulu Wibblewobble, the duck girl.
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” Lulu cried, “while you are waiting, please give
me a ride in your airship!”
“Oh, no, I am afraid I cannot,” he answered. “You see the sofa
cushions are being stuffed by your mother.”
“Oh, well, I don’t mind that. Give me a ride without them!” cried
Lulu. “We had examinations in school to-day, and now I want a little
fun.”
“What examination did you have?” asked the rabbit gentleman.
“An examination in quacking and in wing flapping,” answered Lulu. “I
think I passed, too. Teacher said I flapped my wings better than any
other duck girl in the class.”
“Oh, but I am glad to hear that!” Uncle Wiggily cried, for he liked
his little duck niece very much. “And, since you have been such a
good pupil, I will take you up in my airship,” he said. “Oh, joy!”
cried Lulu, flapping her wings and quacking as she had done in the
examinations.
“But we will not go up very high.” Uncle Wiggily went on. “Since we
have not the sofa cushions with us, we might get hurt if we had an
accident and fell. So I will only take you up a little way, Lulu.”
“Oh, even a little ride will be lovely!” quacked the duck girl. She
and Uncle Wiggily got in the airship, and away they went, about as
high as a jumping rope.
“Oh, this is lovely!” cried Lulu. “Thank you so much, Uncle Wiggily!
It is very good of you.”
“Pray do not say so,” spoke the old gentleman rabbit. And then, all
at once, something went wrong with the airship, and it shot up,
away above the trees. Higher and higher it went before the rabbit
gentleman could stop it.
“Oh, if we ever fall now—without our sofa cushions!” exclaimed Uncle
Wiggily, “something sure will happen!” And then, all of a sudden, a
bad bumble-bee came along, and, with his sharp stinger, he made holes
in the toy balloons of Uncle Wiggily’s airship, just as a bad wasp
once did. Down the airship began to fall, faster and faster.
“Oh, if we hit the ground now, with no soft sofa cushions to sit on,
we shall surely be hurt!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “What shall I do?”
“I know,” cried Lulu Wibblewobble, the brave duck girl. “I will flap
my wings very hard, just as I did in my school examinations to-day,
and that will make us fall more slowly, so we will not strike the
ground so hard.”
“Please do!” cried Uncle Wiggily. And Lulu did. Faster and faster
she flapped her wings, beating the air with them, and this kept up
the airship, just as a bird keeps itself up, and made it fall more
and more slowly and gently.
“Look out!” cried the rabbit gentleman, peeping over the side of the
clothes basket. “We are going to bump!”
But they did not bump very hard. For, just as they came down to the
ground, Mrs. Wibblewobble had finished stuffing the sofa cushions.
She ran out, and tossed them under Uncle Wiggily’s airship, and he
and Lulu came down on them as lightly as a feather. But, after all,
had it not been for the duck girl’s wing-flapping, I do not know what
would have happened.
So this is all now, if you please, but if the tomato doesn’t jump out
of the coffee can, and kiss the cucumber salad in the olive oil, I’ll
tell you next, about Uncle Wiggily and the lemonade stand.
STORY XXIV
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE LEMONADE STAND
“My, but it certainly is a warm day!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily, the
old gentleman rabbit, as he unbuttoned his fur coat and fanned his
ears with a horse chestnut leaf. “I don’t know when I have been so
warm!”
“It is very hot!” agreed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady,
as she peeled some eggs for dinner. “I think I would not go up in my
airship to-day, if I were you, Mr. Longears.”
“Oh, the heat makes no difference to me if I want to take a ride,”
the rabbit gentleman answered. “Besides, you forget that I have the
big Japanese umbrella over the top of my airship to keep off the hot
sun. Yes, I will take a ride, and perhaps I may have an adventure;
who knows?”
“True enough—who knows?” repeated Nurse Jane. “Well, if you will go,
Wiggy, I suppose you will. And, since you are going, would you mind
stopping at the store and bringing me home some honey for supper?”
“It will give me the greatest pleasure in the world to bring you some
honey, sweetness,” said Uncle Wiggily, politely. Sometimes he called
Nurse Jane “sweetness” just for a joke.
Well off the old gentleman started in his clothes basket airship. It
had been all mended since the time he and Lulu Wibblewobble, the duck
girl, rode in it, when the bumble bee stung the balloons.
“And the sofa cushions, since Mrs. Wibblewobble put new feathers in
them, are better than ever,” said Uncle Wiggily. He had the sofa
cushions to fall on, you know.
Well, it kept on getting hotter and hotter that day, and, not long
after Uncle Wiggily had set off to get the honey for Nurse Jane,
Billie Bushytail, the little squirrel boy, said to his brother
Johnnie:
“I’ll tell you what let’s do! Let’s set up a lemonade stand along
the street and sell the nice, cold, sweet lemonade for five cents a
glass.”
“All right!” cried Johnnie. “We’ll do it!”
So they got some old boxes—squirrel size, of course—and their mamma
gave them an old tablecloth to spread over the top to make the stand
look nice. Then she let the two squirrel boys take the proper things
to make the lemonade—the lemons, the sugar, a pitcher, some glasses
and a small piece of ice.
“We’ll make a lot of money, and buy ice cream cones!” cried Billie.
“That’s what we will!” shouted Johnnie, as he gnawed the shell off a
hickory nut.
Then the squirrel boys squeezed the juice from the lemons, poured in
the water and stirred it up in the pitcher.
“Say!” exclaimed Billie at that point, “we ought to have an umbrella
over our stand to make it shady. There’s an old one in the house.
Let’s put it up.”
“All right!” agreed Johnnie, “we will!” They both ran in the house to
get the sun umbrella, and, while they were gone, a bad monkey chap,
with a very large sweet tooth, sneaked up to the lemonade stand and
took all the sugar. You see it had not yet been put into the lemonade
pitcher. Yes, sir, the monkey took all the sugar.
And when Billie and Johnnie Bushytail had fastened the umbrella up
over their stand, and went to look for the sugar to put in the cool
lemonade, why, the sugar was not there! You know who had it, though
Billie and Johnnie did not.