The Graymouse Family
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Nellie M. Leonard >> The Graymouse Family
Juliet Sutherland, S. R. Ellison, Ted Garvin, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
THE GRAYMOUSE FAMILY
BY NELLIE M. LEONARD
CHAPTER I THE GRAYMOUSE HOME
CHAPTER II UNCLE SQUEAKY
CHAPTER III TREASURES FROM THE PLAY-ROOM
CHAPTER IV MOTHER GRAYMOUSE KEEPS SCHOOL
CHAPTER V LIMPY-TOES IS LOST
CHAPTER VI BUSTER AND THE CHOCOLATES
CHAPTER VII SILVER EARS' ADVENTURE
CHAPTER VIII VISITING MRS. FIELD-MOUSE
CHAPTER IX MOVING DAYS
CHAPTER X THE CHRISTMAS TREE
ILLUSTRATIONS
That Wicked Thomas Cat is prowling about and I had to be careful
The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky gleefully
"I might manage to tell one more Story," he chuckled
There was a pretty daughter who loved Bright Ribbons
The door flew open and in ran Ruth and Robert Giant
How shall we ever manage to get it home?
"That cross old Norah"
Buster folded his paws in his lap and sang very sweetly
"How nice the Apples smell," said Buster
"My poor, dear Limpy-toes," she sobbed
"Tell us all about it?" they begged
It was a hot summer day
Grand-daddy Whiskers with a pan of warm biscuits under his arm
The only food in sight is set around on the pantry shelves in traps
A busy little procession marched to the barn
"Jolly little mice are we"
GRAYMOUSE FAMILY
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
THE GRAYMOUSE HOME
Mother Graymouse, with her family lived in a cosy attic which was as
snug and comfortable as any good mouse could wish.
Her children were named Limpy-toes, Silver Ears, Buster, Teenty and
Tiny, and Baby Squealer. Although they had many faults, upon the
whole they were good children and made a happy family.
On pleasant mornings, the sun shone in bright and warm through the
dainty cobweb curtains of their east window. In the summer-time,
robins and orioles sang sweetly among the green branches of the maple
tree which shaded the west window. Even when it stormed, Mother
Graymouse and her little ones enjoyed the patter, patter of the
rain-drops upon the roof and window-panes. They were thankful for
such a good home.
The house in which they lived belonged to a family of giants. There
was Mr. Giant, his wife, and two little Giants. The little girl was a
pretty child named Ruth, with blue eyes and long yellow curls. Her
brother, Robert, looked almost exactly like her, except that his
yellow curls were shorter, he wore bigger boots that made more noise,
and instead of playing with dolls and tea-sets he liked balls and
bats and air-rifles.
After Mr. Giant had fitted up half of the attic for his children's
play-room, life was much jollier for the little Graymouses. The steam
heat from the play-room came through the cracks and made their home
as warm as toast.
Limpy-toes and Silver Ears worked busily away until there were three
holes through which they could steal softly in and watch Ruth and
Robert at their play.
Since Christmas the attic had become a merry, noisy place.
"I wonder how those young Giants manage to make such a racket?"
grumbled Mother Graymouse. "I've been trying for an hour to rock Baby
Squealer to sleep and the poor dear is wide awake now. Such a din,
I've seldom heard."
"It's their Christmas presents, Mammy," replied Silver Ears. "Ruth
has a toy piano."
"And Robert blows his new cornet and beats his drum," finished
Limpy-toes.
"He must like to work so hard," drawled Buster.
"Oh, it's jolly fun!" cried Tiny.
"It's jolly fun," echoed her twin Teenty.
"Maybe it is," said Mother Graymouse, "but I'd like to chew a hole in
those toys that would let out all the noise. With their racket and
Squealer's howling, I'm almost crazy. Here, Silver Ears, sit by the
cradle and amuse the baby. I must try to find something for our
supper. Buster, I want you to help the twins set the dishes on the
table while I am gone. Don't shirk now. Even if Limpy-toes is so
lame, he helps me far more than you do. See 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 pocket and gave them
three apiece.
"Bless my stars, how that little Squealer does squeal! Here, Ma
Graymouse, stuff his mouth with this candy and I will begin my
story:"
[Illustration: "I might manage to tell one more Story, he chuckled."]
"Once upon a time, away up in an attic, so high that it made their
fat old uncle puff to climb up to their dwelling, there lived a widow
and her six children. Their father met a sad death a short time ago
and so her children had to be very brave and work hard to help their
dear mother."
"Sniff! Sniff!" went Mother Graymouse behind her handkerchief.
"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.
Uncle Squeaky passed Mother Graymouse another checkermint for the
baby and went on with his story:
"The oldest son was much like his Daddy, very wise and clever at
making things. He was somewhat lame as he had lost the toes of one
foot in a trap when he was a small mouse, too small to be wise."
"Limpy-toes!" they cried in a chorus.
"And a great comfort he is, to be sure," put in Mother Graymouse
heartily.
[Illustration: There was a pretty daughter who loved Bright Ribbons.]
"And there was a pretty daughter who loved bright ribbons and spent
quite a good deal of time dancing before the looking-glass. But she
was good-natured and helpful, with all her gay ways and dainty
habits, and every one who knew her loved her."
"Silver Ears, of course!" shouted the others.
"The third little fellow resembled his Grand-daddy Whiskers,"
continued Uncle Squeaky. "He was fat as a butter ball, so he could
not squeeze through holes to hunt for food with the others. He ate so
many goodies that he was too tired to do much work, so he had to sit
on his little red stool most of the time. But he could sometimes sing
the baby to sleep, which was a great blessing. He was a sweet singer
and now he is going to sing us a song. Wake up, Buster Boy, and give
us a right good tune."
Buster blinked sleepily.
"It is rather warm in this chimney corner," excused Mother Graymouse.
"Now, Buster, sing your newest song for Uncle Squeaky; that's a good
child."
Buster rubbed his sleepy eyes and began:
"Cheese oh! Merry oh!
Apple pie and cream;
Cheese oh! Merry oh!
Pudding that's a dream.
"Heigh oh! Merry oh!
Spice cake's very nice;
Heigh oh! Merry oh!
We are happy mice."
"A voice just like his poor Daddy's," sighed Mother Graymouse, "and
so he is a comfort, too."
"Then there was a pair of twins," resumed Uncle Squeaky. "The two of
'em wouldn't make one good sized mouse. But it did not take much
stuff for their dresses and they could steal through the tiniest,
teentiest holes, which was often very handy for the whole family."
How they all clapped for Tiny and Teenty!
"Hush!" cautioned Mother Graymouse. "If we make too much noise, the
Giant may be angry and turn us out of our cosy home."
"Then there was a small baby; he was rightly named Squealer," added
Uncle Squeaky dryly. "Well, one stormy night when the snow was packed
against the windows so you couldn't even peep out, their old uncle
made them a visit. He reminded them that once again it was New Year's
Eve." He paused solemnly.
"And so we must make new resolutions," smiled Silver Ears.
"Very good," agreed Uncle Squeaky. "Suppose you begin."
"I will obey my mother," said Silver Ears.
"I will try to take poor Daddy's place," said Limpy-toes.
"I will mind the baby," said Tiny.
"I will mind baby, too," said Teenty.
"Your turn, Buster," reminded Uncle Squeaky.
"I will try to wake up mornings," said Buster.
"And not eat so much, my boy. And do a little more work; it is good
exercise," advised Uncle Squeaky in a rather severe tone.
"Now that is fine. Good little mice are always obedient and helpful.
I think, Ma Graymouse, that you ought to be very happy and contented
this year with such dutiful kiddies. Now it is getting late. I must
tell you the good news which was my real errand, and then be gone.
Granny and Grand-daddy Whiskers have met with great good fortune.
They have moved up one flight into the pantry closet. They say the
air there is very fine--all sorts of delicious odors. And food! Why,
it is hard to choose the bill of fare, there's so many goodies laying
around! Granny wishes you to visit her and bring all the
kiddies,--especially Buster," he grinned. "Good night. A happy New
Year to you all!"
"Happy New Year, Uncle Squeaky!" they called in chorus. "Bring your
fiddle next time, uncle," coaxed Silver Ears, as he pulled his fur
cap down snugly.
"And don't forget the checkermints," drawled Buster from his little
red stool.
CHAPTER III
TREASURES FROM THE PLAY-ROOM
Tiny and Teenty were inquisitive little twins. One fine day, when
Mother Graymouse had taken Baby Squealer down cellar to call upon
Aunt and Uncle Squeaky, and Limpy-toes had been sent to the store
across the street, they planned a pleasure trip of their own.
"Silvy and Limpy-toes often visit the playroom and have a lovely
time," whispered Tiny. "Let's go, you and I."
"Let's go!" agreed Teenty, clapping her paws.
"We'll stay just as long as we wish," planned Tiny.
"So we will. It will be good fun," answered Teenty.
Silver Ears heard them whispering and giggling together, but she was
busy making herself a blue velvet hood from some pieces that Mother
Graymouse had found in an old trunk. So she never noticed when Tiny
and Teenty slipped through a hole that led to the play-room.
"Oh, isn't it grand to come all by ourselves!" whispered Tiny.
"Isn't it grand!" echoed Teenty.
"Mammy Graymouse will think we are old enough to look out for
ourselves if only we can find something nice to take home to her,"
went on Tiny. "Oh, see, Teenty, they haven't thrown away their
Christmas tree, yet! I smell goodies. Why, it is pop-corn! But I
never saw it growing on a string before. Hurry and pull it off before
the young giants come."
Tiny and Teenty cut the strings of pop-corn with their sharp teeth
and they fell softly to the carpet.
All at once, the door flew open and in ran Ruth and Robert Giant.
Tiny and Teenty scrambled out of sight under the sofa pillows and sat
tremblingly holding each other's cold little paws, while their hearts
went thumpity-thump!
[Illustration: The door flew open and in ran Ruth and Robert Giant]
"Norah must throw out this tree to-day," said Ruth Giant. "It has
stood here nearly a month. The hemlock is falling all over the
carpet."
"Even the pop-corn is falling," laughed Robert. "I am going to draw a
picture of the tree and color it with my new paints."
"And I will read another chapter in my book before papa comes back
with the auto."
It was so still in the play-room that the poor scared twins under the
pillows were afraid the Giant children would hear their hearts
beating pitty-pat! pitty-pat! It seemed a long, long time before Maid
Norah's freckly face appeared in the doorway.
"Your pa says you're to hurry if you want to ride in the auto with
him," she announced.
Flying footsteps, slamming doors, and then the play-room was
deserted.
Tiny and Teenty crept shyly from their hiding-place, feeling very
stiff.
"Oh, see, Teenty!" cried Tiny. "There's a bag of Christmas candy away
up in the tree. The young Giants did not find it." Up among the
branches she scrambled, almost to the tip-top of the tall tree.
Her sharp white teeth cut the string arid with a bang, down fell
their prize. Then Tiny swung herself nimbly to the floor.
"Such a lot of candy! Won't Buster grin," laughed Tiny as she caught
up a string of pop-corn and started for home.
Teenty took another string and followed after her sister.
"See, Silvy, what a nice lot of pop-corn we have brought," said Tiny.
"See my nice pop-corn, too," echoed Teenty.
"Why, isn't that lovely!" cried Silver Ears. "I will put it away
safely on the cupboard shelf and perhaps Mammy will make us a
pop-corn pudding."
"And, Silvy," went on Tiny eagerly, "there's a bag of candy, oh, a
very big bag of candy, on the play-room floor."
"It's a very big bag of candy," said Teenty.
Buster pricked up his ears. "Shall I help you bring it home?" he
offered. "Oh, please do. And Silvy, too, for it's a real giant bag of
candy," explained Tiny, excitedly.
So they all four marched into the play-room and tugged and tugged
until they had pulled the candy bag close to the biggest hole. But oh
dear me! Even the biggest hole was ever so much too small.
Silver Ears sat down and scratched her head thoughtfully. "How shall
we ever manage to get it home?" she asked.
"I know," planned Buster. "Let's eat it right here. That is a nice
easy way."
"Oh, no," said Silver Ears. "The Giants might come back, or old Tom.
Besides, I want Limpy-toes and Squealer and Mammy to share our
goodies. We will untie the string and take out the candies. Buster
and Tiny must go through the hole and Teenty and I will push the
candies through, one piece at a time."
"That is hard work," grumbled Buster. "My way was ever so much
easier."
Silver Ears gave the fat, lazy, little fellow a shove that sent him
squealing through the hole.
[Illustration: How shall we ever manage to get it home?]
Tiny followed quickly after. Soon the four little mice were busy
shovelling candy. It was rather hard work; "almost as bad as
shovelling coal into a bin," Buster thought.
"Silvy, make Buster help me," complained Tiny. "He is just sucking
the candy off his paws and I'm most buried up."
"Well, my paws are all sticky," drawled Buster.
"Get to work, Buster, and help Tiny," called Silver Ears, sharply,
"or I'll come through the hole and shake you till you'll see stars."
At last every stick of the pretty colored candy was pushed through
into the Graymouse side of the attic. Teenty frisked through and
Silver Ears danced after her, with the candy bag rolled in a little
bundle under one arm.
When Mother Graymouse came home just at dusk, after a delightful
visit with Aunt Squeaky and all the little Cousin Squeakies, a fine
surprise awaited her.
Limpy-toes had returned from the store with plenty of cheese, a slice
of boiled ham and some cute little oyster crackers. Silver Ears and
the twins had set the table. At each place they had laid a stick of
red and white striped candy.
The cupboard door was ajar, and even before Mother Graymouse had put
Baby Squealer in his cradle, or taken off her bonnet, she caught
sight of the heap of Christmas candies and the popcorn, which looked
like a white snow-bank upon the cupboard shelf.
"Sniff! Sniff!" Out came Mammy's handkerchief as she sank into her
rocking chair, bonnet, baby and all.
"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.
The five little mice looked dismayed.
"What is the trouble now, Mammy?" asked Silver Ears, sadly. "We
thought you would be glad. Just see this candy bag. Won't it make a
nice shopping bag for you if we make it smaller?"
Mother Graymouse wiped her eyes.
"And so I am glad, my dear Silvy," she smiled. "Did ever a poor widow
mouse have such good, helpful children? When I'm sad, I cry. And when
I'm glad, I cry, also. Your poor Daddy used to think it very queer.
But never mind, my dears. Bring your little stools and we will eat
this splendid supper before the tea gets cold."
CHAPTER IV
MOTHER GRAYMOUSE KEEPS SCHOOL
Silver Ears was very angry and excited one morning when she returned
from a visit to the play-room. Her eyes were pink and swollen from
crying as she sat beside Squealer in the chimney corner.
"She is a hateful old Norah, Mammy," she burst out at last. "Ruth
Giant wants me to be her little pet mouse. I heard her tell Robert.
And she tossed me the nicest bit of cake I ever tasted. It was
frosted and stuffed with strawberry jam.
"Then that horrid old Norah Maid came in and shoo-ed me with her
broom. I hid under the doll's bed. You wouldn't believe the bad
things that freckly-faced Norah said. She told Ruth Giant that she
wasn't going to have nasty little mice around, running up her skirts,
not if she knew it. She stuck her snubby nose up in the air and said
it seemed as if the room smelled mousey. Then when I started to run
home, because I couldn't listen to such talk a minute longer, she
cried--'There he goes now, Miss Ruth! The nasty, thieving, little
beast! If there's a creature I can't abide, it's a mouse, to be
sure!'
"I'm not a nasty little beast, am I, Mammy? I have a nice warm bath
every Saturday night."
"Every Saturday night, the whole six of you," agreed Mother Graymouse
wagging her head proudly. "And what could a body ask more of a neat
mother mouse with a big family?"
"The Giants have a bath every morning," said Limpy-toes. "Granny
Whiskers says so, and of course Granny knows."
"A bath every morning!" cried Silver Ears. "Just think of that."
"Just imagine it!" drawled Buster.
"Well, they must be very dirty children," decided Mother Graymouse.
"A bath every morning! I'd be ashamed if my children could not keep
clean longer than that. Ruth Giant isn't a bit cleaner, sweeter, nor
daintier than my pretty Silver Ears, if I do say so, as shouldn't."
"I'm not a thief either, Mammy," sobbed Silver Ears.
"When that Maid Norah goes about killing flies by the dozens, does
she call herself a murderer?" demanded Mother Graymouse with
indignation. "When that old black Tom gobbles up an innocent mouse
for his supper, does she call him a murdering beast? Neither are we
thieves," went on Mother Graymouse hotly. "Even mice must live, and
unless we eat we will surely die. It is very ill-natured of the
Giants to begrudge us the few poor scraps that we are able to pick
up. But don't ever let me hear of your eating any cake again, Silver
Ears, even if it is stuffed with jam, without first showing it to
me," she finished in a severe tone.
"But, Mammy, I'm sure Ruth Giant would not give me cake that was not
fit to eat."
Then Mother Graymouse drew up the five little red-painted stools in a
row. She sat down before them in her rocking chair with little
squirming Squealer upon her knees. She gave him a stick of pink candy
to suck, so he would stop squealing while she talked.
"It is very painful," she began slowly, "but I see that I must teach
you some lessons this morning. Sit on your little stools and come to
order for school. Buster, you sit up straight and pay attention. Now
listen every one.
"E--n--e--m--y. Now spell it after me."
"E--n--e--m--y!" piped five shrill little voices.
"Who can tell me what an enemy is?"
Buster waved his paw wildly.
"Something good to eat, Mammy," he answered, smacking his fat little
chops.
"I fear, Buster, that I must make a dunce cap for you," said his
mother, trying hard not to smile.
"An enemy is a trap that pinches off toes," answered Limpy-toes.
"That cross old Norah is an enemy," decided Silver Ears. "But Ruth
Giant is not an enemy."
[Illustration: "That cross old Norah."]
"Maybe not; maybe not," returned Mother Graymouse. "But I mistrust
all the other Giants. So take care, my dears.
"An enemy is anything that will harm us. Traps are our enemies. Some
traps look like wire cages with a nice smelly bit of toasted cheese
inside. But the silly mouse who enters the cage will only be let out
when there is a cruel cat waiting outside to pounce upon him. There
are many kinds of traps, but they are all wicked enemies. So beware,
my dears.
"Cats are our enemies. You have all seen that cruel old Thomas Cat,
the black imp, with brass eyes that shine in the dark like automobile
lamps. His teeth are sharp and strong; his claws are like ugly
needles. Never take any chances when he is around, my dears.
"The Giants are our worst enemies. They set the traps to catch us;
they keep the cat to eat us. Often they try to poison us. That is the
reason, Silvy, why you must never eat Ruth Giant's cake until I have
seen it.
"Your poor Daddy ate a cracker one day, which was spread with salmon
and rat poison. It was the cause of his untimely death. 'Water,
water, water!' he moaned. Oh, I shall never forget how he suffered! I
helped him down to the pond and found a hole in the ice where he
could get water. But he grew worse as soon as he drank. Poor Daddy!
And so he died out there in the cold winter weather. Sniff! Sniff!
This has been a painful task, but you must remember every word I've
spoken this morning. Now for our review lesson."
"E--n--e--m--y, enemy," she spelled.
"E--n--e--m--y, enemy," chanted five obedient mice.
"T--r--a--p, trap," went on Mother Graymouse.
"T--r--a--p, trap," echoed her scholars.