Grand-Daddy Whiskers, M.D Part 10

The autumn days pa.s.sed swiftly. Yellow, crimson, and russet leaves fluttered to the ground. Early in the mornings the gra.s.s 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 gla.s.ses; 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," s.h.i.+vered 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"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 ma.s.s 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 sc.r.a.ping 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."