Grand-Daddy Whiskers, M.D. | Page 5

Squeaky thoughtfully, "I heard Ruth Giant sing a
song one day:
'Will you walk into my parlor, Said the Spider to the fly.'
"If I remember aright, that fly came to grief in Lady Spider's parlor.
Better watch out, Dr. Grand-daddy."
"Don't worry, Hezekiah, and good-day to you, for I must be on my way.
I will keep out of Lady Spider's parlor."
Dr. Whiskers rapped upon Sir Spider's door. Lady Spider opened it.
"Will you walk into my parlor, Dr. Whiskers?" she said sweetly, as she
held aside the cobweb draperies of her spick-and-span parlor.
Dr. Whiskers wanted to run away. Those were the very words that
Uncle Squeaky had recited!
"Ah, well," he decided quickly, "as I am not a fly and have my stout
cane in my paw, I'll be a brave doctor mouse and try to cure Lady
Spider. Maybe she is not so sly as some folk think."
So he entered her pretty parlor, admiring the beautiful silken draperies.
"I am glad that you have come to our village, Dr. Whiskers," began
Lady Spider, sitting beside him on the moss green divan. "We've had a
hard time. Sir Spider lost one of his legs a while ago; but would you
believe it--a new one has begun to grow! He feels better and is building
a bridge across our brook. I'm just worn out with the Spring cleaning

and spinning, and the care of my big family. My eyes ache all the time,
Dr. Whiskers."
"Ah, yes! Spring fever, I've no doubt. I have been told that you are very
busy,--a skillful weaver and splendid housekeeper. But my dear Lady
Spider, health is better than silk draperies. I fear you strain your many
eyes searching for dust and dirt. When my one pair of eyes get tired, I
have a headache; with your many eyes, you must suffer much pain. But
cheer up. I will give you some medicine and you will soon feel like a
new Spider. Please fetch a glass of water."
Dr. Whiskers took a bottle of dried checker-berries from his bag. He
dropped ten of them into the water.
"These red pills are a splendid tonic. Take a sip of the medicine several
times each day and your many eyes will stop aching."
"I will follow your directions carefully, Dr. Whiskers," smiled Lady
Spider. "Is there really to be a school where my little Webbie, Spinnie,
Tony, and Patty can be taught the civilized ways of your learned
family?"
"We have just arrived at the Lake and are hardly settled. There will
soon be a school. My grand-daughter, Dot Squeaky, will be the teacher.
A sweet young lady mouse she is, if I am her grand-daddy and maybe
ought not to boast of her smartness. I must bid you good-day, Lady
Spider. I will come in next week and see if you are better."
"A very pleasant call," thought Dr. Whiskers, as he trotted along the
country road. "Lady Spider does not seem to be a harmful creature.
Hello! Here I am at Squire Cricket's gateway. I must cure his sore
throat."
Squire Cricket came to the door. He wore a red flannel around his neck
and his voice was hoarse as he greeted Dr. Whiskers.
"Nimble-toes said you needed some medicine," began Dr. Whiskers. "I
see you are wearing the red flannel that Granny sent. She believes that

red flannel will cure almost anything."
"It's no good," croaked Squire Cricket. "I've worn it ever since
Nimble-toes fetched it, and I'm still as hoarse as Grandpa Bull Frog."
"Ah well, if Mistress Cricket will fetch a glass of water, I will fix a
gargle that will help you."
He sprinkled some salt into the water which Mistress Cricket brought.
"Now, Squire Cricket, if you will use this mixture, a spoonful every
hour, and rub a little cure-all salve under your red flannel at night, we'll
soon have your voice as clear as a lark's, and the soreness all gone.
How many kiddies shall you send to my grand-daughter's summer
school, Mistress Cricket?"
"Our two children, Sammie and Fidelia, must go. I hope Miss Squeaky
will teach music. Our children love to fiddle. We all enjoyed Mr.
Squeaky's band last summer. It was good news when we heard that you
were coming back to the Lake."
Just then, Sammie Cricket hopped excitedly in.
"Oh, Dr. Whiskers, old Daddy Longlegs has had an accident! He wants
you to come at once," cried Sammie.
Dr. Whiskers snatched up his bag and rushed across the fields to Daddy
Longleg's home.
"I've broken one of my legs, Dr. Whiskers," cried Daddy Longlegs.
"Can you mend it for me, or must I limp on a cane the rest of my
days?"
"Mend it? Of course I can," laughed Dr. Whiskers.