The Graymouse Family | Page 2

the nice dish he is carving out of a walnut shell for me. I shall cook his favorite pudding in it to-morrow as a reward for his patient toil. Aren't you ashamed to be idle when your poor crippled brother tries so hard to help his mother? Now be good children and don't quarrel." She slipped on her gray coat and the bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons and whisked out of sight down a hole in one corner of the attic floor.
Silver Ears left little Squealer to cry himself to sleep while she stood on tiptoe before the old cracked looking-glass and tied a pink ribbon in a bow under her chin.
"Where did you get that ribbon, Miss Prinky?" asked Buster.
"In the play-room," laughed Silver Ears. "It used to belong to the doll, but now it belongs to me."
"You look very sweet, Silvy," lisped Tiny.
"You're sweet, Silvy," chimed in Teenty.
Silver Ears made them a charming bow. "I thank you, twinnies! I'll bring you both something nice from the play-room some day. Now hurry! Mammy will soon return and you haven't even laid the table-cloth. Run and get the spoons from the cupboard, Buster, or I'll tell Mammy to put you to bed without any supper. Oh, that baby! Can't you jiggle the cradle, Limpy-toes, while you finish digging out the dish?"
Mother Graymouse looked very sober when she came home. She took a cracker and some stale cake crumbs from her pocket.
"This is all I could get to-night, my dears," she explained sadly. "That wicked Thomas Cat is prowling about and I had to be careful. It is snowing and the drifts are very deep, so I did not dare go across the street to the store. Ah well, we shall not starve."
"Never mind, Mammy," said Limpy-toes. "Crackers and cake crumbs are nice."
[Illustration: That Wicked Thomas Cat is prowling about and I had to be careful.]
"By and by it will be summer, Mammy, and then we can all go out to hunt for food," added Silver Ears cheerfully.
"But I want some cheese with my cracker," whimpered Buster.
"When your poor Daddy was alive, we had cheese or meat for every meal. He was a wonderful provider. And so clever! What other family has a cradle like ours? And my rocking-chair--I'm quite proud of it. He made 'em all,--every stick of furniture we have, with his own clever paws. Poor Daddy, I miss him so! It is a cold world for a lone widow to be left in with six small children." Mother Graymouse sighed and wiped a tear away with her handkerchief.
The five little mice tiptoed to their places at the table very quietly, for Limpy-toes had rocked Baby Squealer to sleep at last. They ate their supper in silence. Only Tiny and Teenty whispered and giggled softly to each other.
Suddenly there was a great scrambling and scratching outside.
"It is Uncle Squeaky!" cried Limpy-toes.
"He's coming up the elevator," decided Silver Ears.
"Oh, how lovely to have a visit from Uncle Squeaky on a snow-stormy night!" and the twins ran a race to the attic entrance.
"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.
CHAPTER II
UNCLE SQUEAKY
The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky gleefully. Silver Ears took his fur cap and cane, Limpy-toes hung up his great-coat, and the twins captured both his kindly paws and danced back to the chimney corner with him.
Buster was such a fat, lazy fellow that he just sat upon his little stool and waited for his uncle to come to him.
"Howdy do, Uncle Squeaky?" he said as the others drew their little red-painted stools into a half circle before Uncle Squeaky's arm-chair. "Have you any peppermints in your pocket?"
"And will you please tell us a real exciting story?" begged Silver Ears.
Uncle Squeaky laughed until tiny wrinkles came all around his twinkling, black eyes and he looked ever so pleasant.
"Just listen to that, Ma Graymouse!" he cried.
[Illustration: _The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky gleefully._]
"Just listen to that! One would think I was a walking candy store and a story book, all in one. Very sorry, Buster Boy, but I haven't a single peppermint in my pocket. I think you ought not to eat so much candy. You are too fat, already. As for stories, you kiddies have heard every tale that this old gray head holds, time and time again."
He watched the five sober little faces as they sat upon their red-painted stools with their paws folded primly in their laps. Then he winked slyly at Mother Graymouse. "Oh, well, if you are going to feel as bad as all that, perhaps I might manage to tell you one more story," he chuckled. "But I think Silver Ears will hardly call it exciting. And I wonder if you little folk could make some checkermints do?"
He drew forth a handful of pink candies from his