The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories, by Beatrix Potter

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Peter Rabbit Books

By BEATRIX POTTER

    A LIST OF THE TITLES
    [*indicates included here]

    *The Tale of Peter Rabbit
    The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin
    The Tailor of Gloucester
    *The Tale of Benjamin Bunny
    *The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle
    *The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher
    The Tale of Johnny Town-Mouse
    *The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck
    *The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies
    The Story of a Fierce Bad Rabbit
    *The Tale of Two Bad Mice
    The Tale of Tom Kitten
    The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse
    *The Tale of Timmy Tiptoes
    *The Tale of Mr. Tod
    *The Tale of Pigling Bland
    *The Roly Poly Pudding
    *The Pie and the Patty-pan
    *Ginger and Pickles
    *The Story of Miss Moppet
    Appley Dapply's Nursery Rhymes
    The Tale of Little Pig Robinson??

THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT BY BEATRIX POTTER

ONCE upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were—
Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter.

They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, underneath the root of avery big fir tree.

"NOW, my dears," said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, "you may go into thefields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: yourFather had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor."

"NOW run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out."

THEN old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, to the baker's. Shebought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.

FLOPSY, Mopsy, and Cottontail, who were good little bunnies, went downthe lane to gather blackberries;

BUT Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor'sgarden and squeezed under the gate!

FIRST he ate some lettuces and some French beans; and then he ate someradishes;

AND then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.

BUT round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr.
McGregor!

MR. McGREGOR was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, buthe jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, "Stopthief!"

PETER was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, forhe had forgotten the way back to the gate.

He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongstthe potatoes.

AFTER losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I thinkhe might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into agooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. Itwas a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.

PETER gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs wereoverheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in greatexcitement, and implored him to exert himself.

MR. McGREGOR came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the topof Peter; but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behindhim.

AND rushed into the toolshed, and jumped into a can. It would have beena beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water in it.

MR. McGREGOR was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the toolshed,perhaps hidden underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them overcarefully, looking under each.

Presently Peter sneezed—"Kertyschoo!" Mr. McGregor was after him in notime,

AND tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window,upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, andhe was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work.

PETER sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with fright,and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very dampwith sitting in that can.

After a time he began to wander about, going lippity—lippity—not veryfast, and looking all around.

HE found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room fora fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath.

An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carryingpeas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to thegate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth that she could notanswer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.

THEN he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he becamemore and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregorfilled his water-cans. A white cat was staring at some gold-fish; shesat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched asif it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking toher; he had heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.

HE went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, heheard the noise of a hoe—scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scritch. Peter

scuttered underneath the bushes. But presently, as nothing happened, hecame out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow, and peeped over. The firstthing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towardsPeter, and beyond him was the gate!

PETER got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow, and started running asfast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-currantbushes.

Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care.He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outsidethe garden.

MR. McGREGOR hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow tofrighten the blackbirds.

PETER never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to thebig fir-tree.

He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on thefloor of the rabbit-hole, and shut his eyes. His mother was busycooking; she wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was thesecond little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in afortnight!

I AM sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.

His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave adose of it to Peter!

"One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time."

BUT Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries,for supper.

THE END

THE TALE OF BENJAMIN BUNNY

FOR THE CHILDREN OF SAWREY FROM OLD MR. BUNNY

ONE morning a little rabbit sat on a bank.

He pricked his ears and listened to the trit-trot, trit-trot of a pony.

A gig was coming along the road; it was driven by Mr. McGregor, andbeside him sat Mrs. McGregor in her best bonnet.

AS soon as they had passed, little Benjamin Bunny slid down into theroad, and set off—with a hop, skip and a jump—to call upon hisrelations, who lived in the wood at the back of Mr. McGregor's garden.

THAT wood was full of rabbit holes; and in the neatest sandiest hole ofall, cousins—Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail and Peter.

Old Mrs. Rabbit was a widow; she earned her living by knitting
rabbit-wool mittens and muffetees (I once bought a pair at a bazaar).
She also sold herbs, and rosemary tea, and rabbit-tobacco (which is what
WE call lavender).

LITTLE Benjamin did not very much want to see his Aunt.

He came round the back of the fir-tree, and nearly tumbled upon the topof his Cousin Peter.

PETER was sitting by himself. He looked poorly, and was dressed in a redcotton pocket-handkerchief.

"Peter,"—said little Benjamin, in a whisper—"who has got yourclothes?"

PETER replied—"The scarecrow in Mr. McGregor's garden," and describedhow he had been chased about the garden, and had dropped his shoes andcoat.

Little Benjamin sat down beside his cousin, and assured him that Mr.McGregor had gone out in a gig, and Mrs. McGregor also; and certainlyfor the day, because she was wearing her best bonnet.

PETER said he hoped that it would rain.

At this point, old Mrs. Rabbit's voice was heard inside the rabbit holecalling—"Cotton-tail! Cotton-tail! fetch some more camomile!"

Peter said he thought he might feel better if he went for a walk.

THEY went away hand in hand, and got upon the flat top of the wall atthe bottom of the wood. From here they looked down into Mr. McGregor'sgarden. Peter's coat and shoes were plainly to be seen upon thescarecrow, topped with an old tam-o-shanter of Mr. McGregor's.

LITTLE Benjamin said, "It spoils people's clothes to squeeze under agate; the proper way to get in, is to climb down a pear tree."

Peter fell down head first; but it was of no consequence, as the bedbelow was newly raked and quite soft.

IT had been sown with lettuces.

They left a great many odd little foot-marks all over the bed,especially little Benjamin, who was wearing clogs.

LITTLE Benjamin said that the first thing to be done was to get backPeter's clothes, in order that they might be able to use the pockethandkerchief.

They took them off the scarecrow. There had been rain during the night;there was water in the shoes, and the coat was somewhat shrunk.

Benjamin tried on the tam-o-shanter, but it was too big for him.

THEN he suggested that they should fill the pocket-handkerchief withonions, as a little present for his Aunt.

Peter did not seem to be enjoying himself; he kept hearing noises.

BENJAMIN, on the contrary, was perfectly at home, and ate a lettuceleaf. He said that he was in the habit of coming to the garden with hisfather to get lettuces for their Sunday dinner.

(The name of little Benjamin's papa was old Mr. Benjamin Bunny.)

The lettuces certainly were very fine.

PETER did not eat anything; he said he should like to go home. Presentlyhe dropped half the onions.

LITTLE Benjamin said that it was not possible to get back up thepear-tree, with a load of vegetables. He led the way boldly towards theother end of the garden. They went along a little walk on planks, undera sunny red-brick wall.

The mice sat on their door-steps cracking cherry-stones, they winked at
Peter Rabbit and little Benjamin Bunny.

PRESENTLY Peter let the pocket-handkerchief go again.

THEY got amongst flower-pots, and frames and tubs; Peter heard noisesworse than ever, his eyes were as big as lolly-pops!

He was a step or two in front of his cousin, when he suddenly stopped.

THIS is what those little rabbits saw round that corner!

Little Benjamin took one look, and then, in half a minute less than notime, he hid himself and Peter and the onions underneath a largebasket….

THE cat got up and stretched herself, and came and sniffed at thebasket.

Perhaps she liked the smell of onions!

Anyway, she sat down upon the top of the basket.

SHE sat there for FIVE HOURS.

* * * *

I cannot draw you a picture of Peter and Benjamin underneath the basket,because it was quite dark, and because the smell of onions was fearful;it made Peter Rabbit and little Benjamin cry.

The sun got round behind the wood, and it was quite late in theafternoon; but still the cat sat upon the basket.

AT length there was a pitter-patter, pitter-patter, and some bits ofmortar fell from the wall above.

The cat looked up and saw old Mr. Benjamin Bunny prancing along the topof the wall of the upper terrace.

He was smoking a pipe of rabbit-tobacco, and had a little switch in hishand.

He was looking for his son.

OLD Mr. Bunny had no opinion whatever of cats.

He took a tremendous jump off the top of the wall on to the top of thecat, and cuffed it off the basket, and kicked it into the garden-house,scratching off a handful of fur.

The cat was too much surprised to scratch back.

WHEN old Mr. Bunny had driven the cat into the green-house, he lockedthe door.

Then he came back to the basket and took out his son Benjamin by theears, and whipped him with the little switch.

Then he took out his nephew Peter.

THEN he took out the handkerchief of onions, and marched out of thegarden.

When Mr. McGregor returned about half an hour later, he observed severalthings which perplexed him.

It looked as though some person had been walking all over the garden ina pair of clogs—only the foot-marks were too ridiculously little!

Also he could not understand how the cat could have managed to shutherself up INSIDE the green-house, locking the door upon the OUTSIDE.

WHEN Peter got home, his mother forgave him, because she was so glad tosee that he had found his shoes and coat. Cotton-tail and Peter foldedup the pocket-handkerchief, and old Mrs. Rabbit strung up the onions andhung them from the kitchen ceiling, with the rabbit-tobacco.

THE END

THE TALE OF THE FLOPSY BUNNIES

FOR ALL LITTLE FRIENDS OF MR. McGREGOR & PETER & BENJAMIN

IT is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is "soporific."

Ihave never felt sleepy after eating lettuces; but then Iam not arabbit.

They certainly had a very soporific effect upon the Flopsy Bunnies!

WHEN Benjamin Bunny grew up, he married his Cousin Flopsy. They had alarge family, and they were very improvident and cheerful.

I do not remember the separate names of their children; they weregenerally called the "Flopsy Bunnies."

AS there was not always quite enough to eat,—Benjamin used to borrowcabbages from Flopsy's brother, Peter Rabbit, who kept a nursery garden.

SOMETIMES Peter Rabbit had no cabbages to spare.

WHEN this happened, the Flopsy Bunnies went across the field to arubbish heap, in the ditch outside Mr. McGregor's garden.

MR. McGREGOR'S rubbish heap was a mixture. There were jam pots and paperbags, and mountains of chopped grass from the mowing machine (whichalways tasted oily), and some rotten vegetable marrows and an old bootor two. One day—oh joy!—there were a quantity of overgrown lettuces,which had "shot" into flower.

THE Flopsy Bunnies simply stuffed lettuces. By degrees, one afteranother, they were overcome with slumber, and lay down in the mowngrass.

Benjamin was not so much overcome as his children. Before going to sleephe was sufficiently wide awake to put a paper bag over his head to keepoff the flies.

THE little Flopsy Bunnies slept delightfully in the warm sun. From thelawn beyond the garden came the distant clacketty sound of the mowingmachine. The blue-bottles buzzed about the wall, and a little old mousepicked over the rubbish among the jam pots.

(I can tell you her name, she was called Thomasina Tittlemouse, awoodmouse with a long tail.)

SHE rustled across the paper bag, and awakened Benjamin Bunny.

The mouse apologized profusely, and said that she knew Peter Rabbit.

WHILE she and Benjamin were talking, close under the wall, they heard aheavy tread above their heads; and suddenly Mr. McGregor emptied out asackful of lawn mowings right upon the top of the sleeping FlopsyBunnies! Benjamin shrank down under his paper bag. The mouse hid in ajam pot.

THE little rabbits smiled sweetly in their sleep under the shower ofgrass; they did not awake because the lettuces had been so soporific.

They dreamt that their mother Flopsy was tucking them up in a hay bed.

Mr. McGregor looked down after emptying his sack. He saw some funnylittle brown tips of ears sticking up through the lawn mowings. Hestared at them for some time.

PRESENTLY a fly settled on one of them and it moved.

Mr. McGregor climbed down on to the rubbish heap—

"One, two, three, four! five! six leetle rabbits!" said he as he droppedthem into his sack. The Flopsy Bunnies dreamt that their mother wasturning them over in bed. They stirred a little in their sleep, butstill they did not wake up.

MR. McGREGOR tied up the sack and left it on the wall.

He went to put away the mowing machine.

WHILE he was gone, Mrs. Flopsy Bunny (who had remained at home) cameacross the field.

She looked suspiciously at the sack and wondered where everybody was?

THEN the mouse came out of her jam pot, and Benjamin took the paper bagoff his head, and they told the doleful tale.

Benjamin and Flopsy were in despair, they could not undo the string.

But Mrs. Tittlemouse was a resourceful person. She nibbled a hole in thebottom corner of the sack.

THE little rabbits were pulled out and pinched to wake them.

Their parents stuffed the empty sack with three rotten vegetablemarrows, an old blacking-brush and two decayed turnips.

THEN they all hid under a bush and watched for Mr. McGregor.

MR. McGREGOR came back and picked up the sack, and carried it off.

He carried it hanging down, as if it were rather heavy.

The Flopsy Bunnies followed at a safe distance.

THEY watched him go into his house.

And then they crept up to the window to listen.

MR. McGREGOR threw down the sack on the stone floor in a way that wouldhave been extremely painful to the Flopsy Bunnies, if they had happenedto have been inside it.

They could hear him drag his chair on the flags, and chuckle—

"One, two, three, four, five, six leetle rabbits!" said Mr. McGregor.

"EH? What's that? What have they been spoiling now?" enquired Mrs.
McGregor.

"One, two, three, four, five, six leetle fat rabbits!" repeated Mr.
McGregor, counting on his fingers—"one, two, three—"

"Don't you be silly; what do you mean, you silly old man?"

"In the sack! one, two, three, four, five, six!" replied Mr. McGregor.

(The youngest Flopsy Bunny got upon the window-sill.)

MRS. McGREGOR took hold of the sack and felt it. She said she could feelsix, but they must be OLD rabbits, because they were so hard and alldifferent shapes.

"Not fit to eat; but the skins will do fine to line my old cloak."

"Line your old cloak?" shouted Mr. McGregor—"I shall sell them and buymyself baccy!"

"Rabbit tobacco! I shall skin them and cut off their heads."

MRS. McGREGOR untied the sack and put her hand inside.

When she felt the vegetables she became very very angry. She said that
Mr. McGregor had "done it a purpose."

AND Mr. McGregor was very angry too. One of the rotten marrows cameflying through the kitchen window, and hit the youngest Flopsy Bunny.

It was rather hurt.

THEN Benjamin and Flopsy thought that it was time to go home.

SO Mr. McGregor did not get his tobacco, and Mrs. McGregor did not gether rabbit skins.

But next Christmas Thomasina Tittlemouse got a present of enoughrabbit-wool to make herself a cloak and a hood, and a handsome muff anda pair of warm mittens.

THE END

IN REMEMBRANCE OF "SAMMY," THE INTELLIGENT PINK-EYED REPRESENTATIVE OF APERSECUTED (BUT IRREPRESSIBLE) RACE. AN AFFECTIONATE LITTLE FRIEND. ANDMOST ACCOMPLISHED THIEF!

THE ROLY-POLY PUDDING

ONCE upon a time there was an old cat, called Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit, whowas an anxious parent. She used to lose her kittens continually, andwhenever they were lost they were always in mischief!

On baking day she determined to shut them up in a cupboard.

She caught Moppet and Mittens, but she could not find Tom.

Mrs. Tabitha went up and down all over the house, mewing for Tom Kitten.She looked in the pantry under the staircase, and she searched the bestspare bedroom that was all covered up with dust sheets. She went rightupstairs and looked into the attics, but she could not find himanywhere.

It was an old, old house, full of cupboards and passages. Some of thewalls were four feet thick, and there used to be queer noises insidethem, as if there might be a little secret staircase. Certainly therewere odd little jagged doorways in the wainscot, and things disappearedat night—especially cheese and bacon.

Mrs. Tabitha became more and more distracted, and mewed dreadfully.

While their mother was searching the house, Moppet and Mittens had gotinto mischief.

The cupboard door was not locked, so they pushed it open and came out.

They went straight to the dough which was set to rise in a pan beforethe fire.

They patted it with their little soft paws—"Shall we make dear littlemuffins?" said Mittens to Moppet.

But just at that moment somebody knocked at the front door, and Moppetjumped into the flour barrel in a fright.

Mittens ran away to the dairy, and hid in an empty jar on the stoneshelf where the milk pans stand.

The visitor was a neighbor, Mrs. Ribby; she had called to borrow someyeast.

Mrs. Tabitha came downstairs mewing dreadfully—"Come in, Cousin Ribby,come in, and sit ye down! I'm in sad trouble, Cousin Ribby," saidTabitha, shedding tears. "I've lost my dear son Thomas; I'm afraid therats have got him." She wiped her eyes with an apron.

"He's a bad kitten, Cousin Tabitha; he made a cat's cradle of my bestbonnet last time I came to tea. Where have you looked for him?"

"All over the house! The rats are too many for me. What a thing it is tohave an unruly family!" said Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit.

"I'm not afraid of rats; I will help you to find him; and whip him too!
What is all that soot in the fender?"

"The chimney wants sweeping—Oh, dear me, Cousin Ribby—now Moppet and
Mittens are gone!"

"They have both got out of the cup-board!"

Ribby and Tabitha set to work to search the house thoroughly again. Theypoked under the beds with Ribby's umbrella, and they rummaged incupboards. They even fetched a candle, and looked inside a clothes chestin one of the attics. They could not find anything, but once they hearda door bang and somebody scuttered downstairs.

"Yes, it is infested with rats," said Tabitha tearfully, "I caught sevenyoung ones out of one hole in the back kitchen, and we had them fordinner last Saturday. And once I saw the old father rat—an enormous oldrat, Cousin Ribby. I was just going to jump upon him, when he showed hisyellow teeth at me and whisked down the hole."

"The rats get upon my nerves, Cousin Ribby," said Tabitha.

Ribby and Tabitha searched and searched. They both heard a curiousroly-poly noise under the attic floor. But there was nothing to be seen.

They returned to the kitchen. "Here's one of your kittens at least,"said Ribby, dragging Moppet out of the flour barrel.

They shook the flour off her and set her down on the kitchen floor. Sheseemed to be in a terrible fright.

"Oh! Mother, Mother," said Moppet, "there's been an old woman rat in thekitchen, and she's stolen some of the dough!"

The two cats ran to look at the dough pan. Sure enough there were marksof little scratching fingers, and a lump of dough was gone!

"Which way did she go, Moppet?"

But Moppet had been too much frightened to peep out of the barrel again.

Ribby and Tabitha took her with them to keep her safely in sight, whilethey went on with their search.

They went into the dairy.

The first thing they found was Mittens, hiding in an empty jar.

They tipped up the jar, and she scrambled out.

"Oh, Mother, Mother!" said Mittens—

"Oh! Mother, Mother, there has been an old man rat in the dairy—adreadful 'normous big rat, Mother; and he's stolen a pat of butter andthe rolling-pin."

Ribby and Tabitha looked at one another.

"A rolling-pin and butter! Oh, my poor son Thomas!" exclaimed Tabitha,wringing her paws.

"A rolling-pin?" said Ribby. "Did we not hear a roly-poly noise in theattic when we were looking into that chest?"

Ribby and Tabitha rushed upstairs again. Sure enough the roly-poly noisewas still going on quite distinctly under the attic floor.

"This is serious, Cousin Tabitha," said Ribby. "We must send for John
Joiner at once, with a saw."

Now this is what had been happening to Tom Kitten, and it shows how veryunwise it is to go up a chimney in a very old house, where a person doesnot know his way, and where there are enormous rats.

Tom Kitten did not want to be shut up in a cupboard. When he saw thathis mother was going to bake, he determined to hide.

He looked about for a nice convenient place, and he fixed upon thechimney.

The fire had only just been lighted, and it was not hot; but there was awhite choky smoke from the green sticks. Tom Kitten got upon the fenderand looked up. It was a big old-fashioned fireplace.

The chimney itself was wide enough inside for a man to stand up and walkabout. So there was plenty of room for a little Tom Cat.

He jumped right up into the fireplace, balancing himself upon the ironbar where the kettle hangs.

Tom Kitten took another big jump off the bar, and landed on a ledge highup inside the chimney, knocking down some soot into the fender.

Tom Kitten coughed and choked with the smoke; he could hear the sticksbeginning to crackle and burn in the fireplace down below. He made uphis mind to climb right to the top, and get out on the slates, and tryto catch sparrows.

"I cannot go back. If I slipped I might fall in the fire and singe mybeautiful tail and my little blue jacket."

The chimney was a very big old-fashioned one. It was built in the dayswhen people burnt logs of wood upon the hearth.

The chimney stack stood up above the roof like a little stone tower, andthe daylight shone down from the top, under the slanting slates thatkept out the rain.

Tom Kitten was getting very frightened! He climbed up, and up, and up.

Then he waded sideways through inches of soot. He was like a littlesweep himself.

It was most confusing in the dark. One flue seemed to lead into another.

There was less smoke, but Tom Kitten felt quite lost.

He scrambled up and up; but before he reached the chimney top he came toa place where somebody had loosened a stone in the wall. There were somemutton bones lying about—

"This seems funny," said Tom Kitten. "Who has been gnawing bones up herein the chimney? I wish I had never come! And what a funny smell! It issomething like mouse; only dreadfully strong. It makes me sneeze," saidTom Kitten.

He squeezed through the hole in the wall, and dragged himself along amost uncomfortably tight passage where there was scarcely any light.

He groped his way carefully for several yards; he was at the back of theskirting-board in the attic, where there is a little mark * in thepicture.

All at once he fell head over heels in the dark, down a hole, and landedon a heap of very dirty rags.

When Tom Kitten picked himself up and looked about him—he found himselfin a place that he had never seen before, although he had lived all hislife in the house.

It was a very small stuffy fusty room, with boards, and rafters, andcobwebs, and lath and plaster.

Opposite to him—as far away as he could sit—was an enormous rat.

"What do you mean by tumbling into my bed all covered with smuts?" saidthe rat, chattering his teeth.

"Please sir, the chimney wants sweeping," said poor Tom Kitten.

"Anna Maria! Anna Maria!" squeaked the rat. There was a pattering noiseand an old woman rat poked her head round a rafter.

All in a minute she rushed upon Tom Kitten, and before he knew what washappening—

His coat was pulled off, and he was rolled up in a bundle, and tied withstring in very hard knots.

Anna Maria did the tying. The old rat watched her and took snuff. Whenshe had finished, they both sat staring at him with their mouths open.

"Anna Maria," said the old man rat (whose name was SamuelWhiskers),—"Anna Maria, make me a kitten dumpling roly-poly pudding formy dinner."

"It requires dough and a pat of butter, and a rolling-pin," said Anna
Maria, considering Tom Kitten with her head on one side.

"No," said Samuel Whiskers, "make it properly, Anna Maria, withbreadcrumbs."

"Nonsense! Butter and dough," replied Anna Maria.

The two rats consulted together for a few minutes and then went away.

Samuel Whiskers got through a hole in the wainscot, and went boldly downthe front staircase to the dairy to get the butter. He did not meetanybody.

He made a second journey for the rolling-pin. He pushed it in front ofhim with his paws, like a brewer's man trundling a barrel.

He could hear Ribby and Tabitha talking, but they were busy lighting thecandle to look into the chest.

They did not see him.

Anna Maria went down by way of the skirting-board and a window shutterto the kitchen to steal the dough.

She borrowed a small saucer, and scooped up the dough with her paws.

She did not observe Moppet.

While Tom Kitten was left alone under the floor of the attic, hewriggled about and tried to mew for help.

But his mouth was full of soot and cob-webs, and he was tied up in suchvery tight knots, he could not make anybody hear him.

Except a spider, which came out of a crack in the ceiling and examinedthe knots critically, from a safe distance.

It was a judge of knots because it had a habit of tying up unfortunateblue-bottles. It did not offer to assist him.

Tom Kitten wriggled and squirmed until he was quite exhausted.

Presently the rats came back and set to work to make him into adumpling. First they smeared him with butter, and then they rolled himin the dough.

"Will not the string be very indigestible, Anna Maria?" inquired Samuel
Whiskers.

Anna Maria said she thought that it was of no consequence; but shewished that Tom Kitten would hold his head still, as it disarranged thepastry. She laid hold of his ears.

Tom Kitten bit and spat, and mewed and wriggled; and the rolling-pinwent roly-poly, roly; roly, poly, roly. The rats each held an end.

"His tail is sticking out! You did not fetch enough dough, Anna Maria."

"I fetched as much as I could carry," replied Anna Maria.

"I do not think"—said Samuel Whiskers, pausing to take a look at Tom
Kitten—"I do NOT think it will be a good pudding. It smells sooty."

Anna Maria was about to argue the point, when all at once there began tobe other sounds up above—the rasping noise of a saw; and the noise of alittle dog, scratching and yelping!

The rats dropped the rolling-pin, and listened attentively.

"We are discovered and interrupted, Anna Maria; let us collect ourproperty,—and other people's,—and depart at once."

"I fear that we shall be obliged to leave this pudding."

"But I am persuaded that the knots would have proved indigestible,whatever you may urge to the contrary."

"Come away at once and help me to tie up some mutton bones in acounterpane," said Anna Maria. "I have got half a smoked ham hidden inthe chimney."

So it happened that by the time John Joiner had got the plank up—therewas nobody under the floor except the rolling-pin and Tom Kitten in avery dirty dumpling!

But there was a strong smell of rats; and John Joiner spent the rest ofthe morning sniffing and whining, and wagging his tail, and going roundand round with his head in the hole like a gimlet.

Then he nailed the plank down again, and put his tools in his bag, andcame downstairs.

The cat family had quite recovered. They invited him to stay to dinner.

The dumpling had been peeled off Tom Kitten, and made separately into abag pudding, with currants in it to hide the smuts.

They had been obliged to put Tom Kitten into a hot bath to get thebutter off.

John Joiner smelt the pudding; but he regretted that he had not time tostay to dinner, because he had just finished making a wheel-barrow forMiss Potter, and she had ordered two hen-coops.

And when I was going to the post late in the afternoon—I looked up thelane from the corner, and I saw Mr. Samuel Whiskers and his wife on therun, with big bundles on a little wheel-barrow, which looked very likemine.

They were just turning in at the gate to the barn of Farmer Potatoes.

Samuel Whiskers was puffing and out of breath. Anna Maria was stillarguing in shrill tones.

She seemed to know her way, and she seemed to have a quantity ofluggage.

I am sure Inever gave her leave to borrow my wheel-barrow!

They went into the barn, and hauled their parcels with a bit of stringto the top of the haymow.

After that, there were no more rats for a long time at Tabitha
Twitchit's.

As for Farmer Potatoes, he has been driven nearly distracted. There arerats, and rats, and rats in his barn! They eat up the chicken food, andsteal the oats and bran, and make holes in the meal bags.

And they are all descended from Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Whiskers—childrenand grand-children and great great grand-children.

There is no end to them!

Moppet and Mittens have grown up into very good rat-catchers.

They go out rat-catching in the village, and they find plenty ofemployment. They charge so much a dozen, and earn their living verycomfortably.

They hang up the rats' tails in a row or the barn door, to show how manythey have caught—dozens and dozens of them.

But Tom Kitten has always been afraid of a rat; he never durst faceanything that is bigger than—

A Mouse.

THE END

THE TALE OF MR. TOD

I HAVE made many books about well-behaved people. Now, for a change, Iam going to make a story about two disagreeable people, called TommyBrock and Mr. Tod. Nobody could call Mr. Tod "nice." The rabbits couldnot bear him; they could smell him half a mile off. He was of awandering habit and he had foxey whiskers; they never knew where hewould be next.

One day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice, causing terror tothe family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a pollardwillow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats.

In winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earthamongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.

He had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.

The houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved OUT; becausesometimes Tommy Brock moved IN; (without asking leave).

Tommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; hegrinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate waspnests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight, diggingthings up.

His clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he alwayswent to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, wasgenerally Mr. Tod's.

Now Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only verylittle young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce. Hewas friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the wickedotters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.

Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshineoutside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.

He lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, whohad a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family thatafternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.

The little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyesand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallowburrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth—old Mr.Bouncer had forgotten them.

He sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who waspassing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used fordigging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the scarcityof pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them. And the ottershad cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in winter—"I have nothad a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living on pig-nuts. I shallhave to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!" said Tommy Brock.

It was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy
Brock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.

So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, totaste a slice of seed-cake and "a glass of my daughter Flopsy's cowslipwine." Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with alacrity.

Then old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbageleaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin morethan ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed andlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.

And Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of thecabbage smoke……….

When Flopsy and Benjamin came back—old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brockand all the young rabbit-babies had disappeared!

Mr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into therabbit hole. But the smell of badger was undeniable; and there wereround heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy wrung herears, and slapped him.

Benjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.

There was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-markand gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he hadrooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he had dug quite a deep holefor dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed theway. Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger's heavy stepsshowed plainly in the mud.

The path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared;there were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths—but the smellthat made Benjamin stop, was not the smell of flowers!

Mr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.There was not only a foxey flavour in proof of it—there was smokecoming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.

Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring; his whiskers twitched. Inside the stickhouse somebody dropped a plate, and said something. Benjamin stamped hisfoot, and bolted.

He never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. ApparentlyTommy Brock had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, therewere again the marks of badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caughton a briar.

Benjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another moletrap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It wasgetting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoythe evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busilyhunting for dandelions.—"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!"shouted Benjamin Bunny.

The blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears—

"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat
Ferret?"

"No, no, no! He's bagged my family—Tommy Brock—in a sack—have youseen him?"

"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?"

"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?
Please tell me quick!"

"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since…. he said they were caterpillars; Idid think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars."

"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?"

"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a moletrap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning."Benjamin did so.

"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for hisyears;" said Peter reflectively, "but there are two hopefulcircumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has hadrefreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.""Which way?" "Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well whichway. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.Tod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because heoffered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would bepassing." (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live onthe hill).

Peter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who wasall of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb thehill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed tohave put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.

"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What anasty person!" said Peter.

The sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half wayup, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grownlittle rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.

Cottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whetherher husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twicewhile she watched him.

He had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up withlaughing.—"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!"said Benjamin Bunny.

They climbed up and up;—"He was at home; I saw his black ears peepingout of the hole." "They live too near the rocks to quarrel with theirneighbours. Come on Cousin Benjamin!"

When they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they wentcautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath acrag—Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steepbank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,listening and peeping.

This house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumble-downpig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.

The setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but thekitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as therabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.

Benjamin sighed with relief.

But there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made himshudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, anda large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.

At the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,a tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair—in short,preparations for one person's supper.

No person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was emptyand silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened theirnoses against the window, and stared into the dusk.

Then they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. Itwas damp and smelly, and over-grown with thorns and briars.

The rabbits shivered in their shoes.

"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see themagain!" sighed Benjamin.

They crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like thekitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;the cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks uponthe window-sill.

The room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;but they could hear a noise—a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And astheir eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived thatsomebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.—"Hehas gone to bed in his boots," whispered Peter.

Benjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.

Tommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.
Nothing could be seen of the young family.

The sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were manyunpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;rabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was ashocking place, and very dark.

They went back to the front of the house, and tried in every way to movethe bolt of the kitchen window. They tried to push up a rusty nailbetween the window sashes; but it was of no use, especially without alight.

They sat side by side outside the window, whispering and listening.

In half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear andcold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.But alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!

The moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made apath of brightness across the dirty floor.

The light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen fireplace—alittle iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that old-fashioned sortthat used to be heated with faggots of wood.

And presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed thatwhenever they shook the window—the little door opposite shook inanswer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!

Benjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy
Brock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.

But there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They couldnot open the window; and although the young family was alive—the littlerabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were notold enough to crawl.

After much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. Theybegan to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that theymight be able to work between the large stones under the house; thekitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it wasmade of earth or flags.

They dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account ofstones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.Benjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worndown; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out thatit was morning—sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise downbelow in the woods.

Benjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from hisears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shonewarmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of whitemist, with golden tops of trees showing through.

Again from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry ofa jay—followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!

Then those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the mostfoolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their shortnew tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod'skitchen floor.

Mr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst oftempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his ownfault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that hadbelonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had beenvery bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and ithad contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had anunsatisfactory night.

As usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First hetried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left adead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leavings but his own.

He made his way up the hill; his temper was not improved by noticingunmistakable marks of badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonlyas Tommy Brock.

Mr. Tod slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed; he guessed whereTommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird whichfollowed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,warning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox wascoming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head—Mr.Tod snapped at it, and barked.

He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. Hesniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Todhad his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in thelock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the doorcautiously and went in.

The sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Todfurious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and hisknife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that hehad left folded up in the dresser—all set out for supper (orbreakfast)—without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.

There was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunatelyoverpowered all smell of rabbit.

But what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise—a deep slow regularsnoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.

He peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then heturned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled andhis coat-collar stood on end with rage.

For the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into thehouse, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he venturedfurther in—right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, hescratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside—he did notlike the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.

He was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.
He snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.

Mr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in hiswalking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thoughtbetter of it, and took them away.

When he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lyinga little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was anincurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; hewas simply too lazy and comfortable to move.

Mr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. Hestood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to thesnores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.

Mr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. Itcreaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened oneeye—shut it hastily. The snores continued.

Mr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bedwas between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened thewindow a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes lineon to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,remained in his hand.

Tommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him fora minute; then he left the room again.

Tommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. Therewas a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.

Mr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of thehouse. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had anyidea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.

His foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and
Benjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy
Brock's work.

He took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, andthen tied the rope to a tree.

Tommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He waspuzzled.

Mr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, andstaggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.

Tommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.

Mr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope withthe hook—hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almostapoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.

Mr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legswere dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.

He reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head ofthe tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.

(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the housebeing unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with ablanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down uponhim attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!

It seemed as though nothing would waken him—not even the flapping ropeacross the bed.

Mr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up againwith the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, danglingover the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,worked by a string, through the window.

But naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandywhiskered)—he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level ofthe hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.

The snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hindlegs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.

Mr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. Afterconsiderable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.The empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling overthe head of Tommy Brock.

Surely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down andup on the chair.

As he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched amilk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pailgot fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a dropsplashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and nevermoved,—except one eye.

At last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full ofwater; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and acrossthe window sill to the tree outside.

"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep inthat bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort," said Mr. Tod.

Mr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He wentout of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard hisfootsteps over the tunnel.

He ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order tolet fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock—

"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise," said Mr. Tod.

The moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.Tod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pailof water instead of himself, and left the room also—grinning immensely.

He went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; forthe moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.

When Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain haddragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged tognaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twentyminutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that itnearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.

Inside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of apail rolling over and over.

But no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listenedattentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was drippingfrom the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.

In the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattenedSOMETHING—much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanketand it was NOT SNORING ANY LONGER.

There was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, dropdrip of water trickling from the mattress.

Mr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.

Then he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at thewindow; but the bundle never moved.

Yes—there was no doubt about it—it had turned out even better than hehad planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him dead!

"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I willbring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun," said Mr. Tod.

"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun tobleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must bethoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with ahot-water bottle."

"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and sodaand scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove thesmell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur."

He hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen—"First Iwill arrange the hole—then I will drag out that person in the blanket…"

He opened the door….

Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea fromMr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself andgrinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.

Then Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.Tod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle allover the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floorwould give way at each crash of falling furniture.

They crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks andbushes, listening anxiously.

Inside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the ovenwoke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.

Everything was upset except the kitchen table.

And everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchenfender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.

The chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,and there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.

The vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;the kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar ofraspberry Jam.

And the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.

When the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened tobe uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at thedoor.

Then the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over thebank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be anylove lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.

As soon as the coast was clear Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny came outof the bushes—

"Now for it! Run in, Cousin Benjamin! Run in and get them while I watchat the door."

But Benjamin was frightened—

"Oh; oh! they are coming back!"

"No they are not."

"Yes they are!"

"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stonequarry."

Still Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him—

"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so thathe won't miss them."

Decidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!

At home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.

After quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed asleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncercould no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;but he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. Theday passed heavily.

Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded witha chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hidden the tobacco. She hadbeen having a complete turn out and spring-cleaning, to relieve herfeelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind his chair, waswondering anxiously what she would do next.

In Mr. Tod's kitchen, amongst the wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked hisway to the oven nervously, through a thick cloud of dust. He opened theoven door, felt inside, and found something warm and wriggling. Helifted it out carefully, and rejoined Peter Rabbit.

"I've got them! Can we get away? Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?"

Peter pricked his ears; distant sounds of fighting still echoed in thewood.

Five minutes afterwards two breathless rabbits came scuttering away downBull Banks, half carrying half dragging a sack between them, bumpettybump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbithole.

Great was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter andBenjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit-babieswere rather tumbled and very hungry; they were fed and put to bed. Theysoon recovered.

A long new pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to
Mr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity; but he accepted.

Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven, and they all had dinner. Then Peter andBenjamin told their story—but they had not waited long enough to beable to tell the end of the battle between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.

THE END

THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE

for THE REAL LITTLE LUCIE OF NEWLANDS

ONCE upon a time there was a little girl called Lucie, who lived at afarm called Little-town. She was a good little girl—only she was alwayslosing her pocket-handkerchiefs!

One day little Lucie came into the farm-yard crying—oh, she did cry so!"I've lost my pocket-handkin! Three handkins and a pinny! Have YOU seenthem, Tabby Kitten?"

THE Kitten went on washing her white paws; so Lucie asked a speckledhen—

"Sally Henny-penny, has YOU found three pocket-handkins?"

But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking—

"I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!"

AND then Lucie asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig.

Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucie with his bright black eye, and heflew over a stile and away.

Lucie climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behindLittle-town—a hill that goes up—up—into the clouds as though it hadno top!

And a great way up the hillside she thought she saw some white thingsspread upon the grass.

LUCIE scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her;she ran along a steep path-way—up and up—until Little-town was rightaway down below—she could have dropped a pebble down the chimney!

PRESENTLY she came to a spring, bubbling out from the hill-side.

Some one had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water—but thewater was already running over, for the can was no bigger than anegg-cup! And where the sand upon the path was wet—there were foot-marksof a VERY small person.

Lucie ran on, and on.

THE path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, andthere were clothes-props cut from bracken stems, with lines of plaitedrushes, and a heap of tiny clothes pins—but no pocket-handkerchiefs!

But there was something else—a door! straight into the hill; and insideit some one was singing—

    "Lily-white and clean, oh!
    With little frills between, oh!
    Smooth and hot—red rusty spot
    Never here be seen, oh!"

LUCIE, knocked—once—twice, and interrupted the song. A littlefrightened voice called out "Who's that?"

Lucie opened the door: and what do you think there was inside thehill?—a nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams—justlike any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucie'shead nearly touched it; and the pots and pans were small, and so waseverything there.

THERE was a nice hot singey smell; and at the table, with an iron in herhand stood a very stout short person staring anxiously at Lucie.

Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron over herstriped petticoat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle,and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle; and underneath her cap—where Luciehad yellow curls—that little person had PRICKLES!

"WHO are you?" said Lucie. "Have you seen my pocket-handkins?"

The little person made a bob-curtsey—"Oh, yes, if you please'm; my nameis Mrs. Tiggy-winkle; oh, yes if you please'm, I'm an excellentclear-starcher!" And she took something out of a clothes-basket, andspread it on the ironing-blanket.

"WHAT'S that thing?" said Lucie—"that's not my pocket-handkin?"

"Oh no, if you please'm; that's a little scarlet waist-coat belonging to
Cock Robin!"

And she ironed it and folded it, and put it on one side.

THEN she took something else off a clothes-horse—"That isn't my pinny?"said Lucie.

"Oh no, if you please'm; that's a damask table-cloth belonging to JennyWren; look how it's stained with currant wine! It's very bad to wash!"said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE'S nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, and her eyeswent twinkle, twinkle; and she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

"THERE'S one of my pocket-handkins!" cried Lucie—"and there's mypinny!"

Mrs. Tiggy-winkle ironed it, and goffered it, and shook out the frills.

"Oh that IS lovely!" said Lucie.

"AND what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?"

"Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny-penny—look howshe's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard! She'll very soongo barefoot!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

"WHY, there's another handkersniff—but it isn't mine; it's red?"

"Oh no, if you please'm; that one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit; and it DIDso smell of onions! I've had to wash it separately, I can't get out thesmell."

"There's another one of mine," said Lucie.

"WHAT are those funny little white things?"

"That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten; I only have to ironthem; she washes them herself."

"There's my last pocket-handkin!" said Lucie.

"AND what are you dipping into the basin of starch?"

"They're little dicky shirt-fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse—mostterrible particular!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. "Now I've finished myironing; I'm going to air some clothes."

"WHAT are these dear soft fluffy things?" said Lucie.

"Oh those are wooly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelghyl."

"Will their jackets take off?" asked Lucy.

"Oh yes, if you please'm; look at the sheep-mark on the shoulder. Andhere's one marked for Gatesgarth, and three that come from Little-town.They're ALWAYS marked at washing!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

AND she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes—small brown coats ofmice; and one velvety black mole-skin waist-coat; and a red tail-coatwith no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin; and a very much shrunk bluejacket belonging to Peter Rabbit; and a petticoat, not marked, that hadgone lost in the washing—and at last the basket was empty!

THEN Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea—a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie.They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another.Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, andvery very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and hercap, there were HAIR-PINS sticking wrong end out; so that Lucie didn'tlike to sit too near her.

WHEN they had finished tea, they tied up the clothes in bundles; andLucie's pocket-handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny, andfastened with a silver safety-pin.

And then they made up the fire with turf, and came out and locked thedoor, and hid the key under the door-sill.

THEN away down the hill trotted Lucie and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle with thebundles of clothes!

All the way down the path little animals came out of the fern to meetthem; the very first that they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny!

AND she gave them their nice clean clothes; and all the little animalsand birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

SO that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile, there wasnothing left to carry except Lucie's one little bundle.

LUCIE scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand; and then sheturned to say "Good-night," and to thank the washer-woman—But what aVERY odd thing! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle had not waited either for thanks orfor the washing bill!

She was running running running up the hill—and where was her whitefrilled cap? and her shawl? and her gown—and her petticoat?

AND how small she had grown—and how brown—and covered with PRICKLES!

Why! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle was nothing but a HEDGEHOG.

* * *

(Now some people say that little Lucie had been asleep upon thestile—but then how could she have found three clean pocket-handkins anda pinny, pinned with a silver safety-pin?

And besides—Ihave seen that door into the back of the hill called
Cat Bells—and besides Iam very well acquainted with dear Mrs.
Tiggy-winkle!)

THE TALE OF GINGER & PICKLES

ONCE upon a time there was a village shop. The name over the window was
"Ginger and Pickles."

It was a little small shop just the right size for Dolls—Lucinda and
Jane Doll-cook always bought their groceries at Ginger and Pickles.

The counter inside was a convenient height for rabbits. Ginger and
Pickles sold red spotty pocket-handkerchiefs at a penny three farthings.

They also sold sugar, and snuff and galoshes.

In fact, although it was such a small shop it sold nearly everything—except a few things that you want in a hurry—like bootlaces,hair-pins and mutton chops.

Ginger and Pickles were the people who kept the shop. Ginger was ayellow tom-cat, and Pickles was a terrier.

The rabbits were always a little bit afraid of Pickles.

The shop was also patronized by mice—only the mice were rather afraidof Ginger.

Ginger usually requested Pickles to serve them, because he said it madehis mouth water.

"I cannot bear," said he, "to see them going out at the door carryingtheir little parcels."

"I have the same feeling about rats," replied Pickles, "but it wouldnever do to eat our own customers; they would leave us and go to TabithaTwitchit's."

"On the contrary, they would go nowhere," replied Ginger gloomily.

(Tabitha Twitchit kept the only other shop in the village. She did notgive credit.)

Ginger and Pickles gave unlimited credit.

Now the meaning of "credit" is this—when a customer buys a bar of soap,instead of the customer pulling out a purse and paying for it—she saysshe will pay another time.

And Pickles makes a low bow and says, "With pleasure, madam," and it iswritten down in a book.

The customers come again and again, and buy quantities, in spite ofbeing afraid of Ginger and Pickles.

But there is no money in what is called the "till."

The customers came in crowds every day and bought quantities, especiallythe toffee customers. But there was always no money; they never paid foras much as a pennyworth of peppermints.

But the sales were enormous, ten times as large as Tabitha Twitchit's.

As there was always no money, Ginger and Pickles were obliged to eattheir own goods.

Pickles ate biscuits and Ginger ate a dried haddock.

They ate them by candle-light after the shop was closed.

When it came to Jan. 1st there was still no money, and Pickles wasunable to buy a dog licence.

"It is very unpleasant, I am afraid of the police," said Pickles.

"It is your own fault for being a terrier; Ido not require a licence,and neither does Kep, the Collie dog."

"It is very uncomfortable, I am afraid I shall be summoned. I have triedin vain to get a licence upon credit at the Post Office;" said Pickles."The place is full of policemen. I met one as I was coming home."

"Let us send in the bill again to Samuel Whiskers, Ginger, he owes 22/9for bacon."

"I do not believe that he intends to pay at all," replied Ginger.

"And I feel sure that Anna Maria pockets things—Where are all the creamcrackers?" "You have eaten them yourself," replied Ginger.

Ginger and Pickles retired into the back parlour.

They did accounts. They added up sums and sums, and sums.

"Samuel Whiskers has run up a bill as long as his tail; he has had anounce and three-quarters of snuff since October."

"What is seven pounds of butter at 1/3, and a stick of sealing wax andfour matches?"

"Send in all the bills again to everybody 'with compts'" replied Ginger.

After a time they heard a noise in the shop, as if something had beenpushed in at the door. They came out of the back parlour. There was anenvelope lying on the counter, and a policeman writing in a note-book!

Pickles nearly had a fit, he barked and he barked and made littlerushes.

"Bite him, Pickles! bite him!" spluttered Ginger behind a sugar-barrel,"he's only a German doll!"

The policeman went on writing in his notebook; twice he put his pencilin his mouth, and once he dipped it in the treacle.

Pickles barked till he was hoarse. But still the policeman took nonotice. He had bead eyes, and his helmet was sewed on with stitches.

At length on his last little rush—Pickles found that the shop wasempty. The policeman had disappeared.

But the envelope remained.

"Do you think that he has gone to fetch a real live policeman? I amafraid it is a summons," said Pickles.

"No," replied Ginger, who had opened the envelope, "it is the rates andtaxes, L 3 19 11 3/4."

"This is the last straw," said Pickles, "let us close the shop."

They put up the shutters, and left. But they have not removed from theneighbourhood. In fact some people wish they had gone further.

Ginger is living in the warren. I do not know what occupation hepursues; he looks stout and comfortable.

Pickles is at present a gamekeeper.

The closing of the shop caused great inconvenience. Tabitha Twitchitimmediately raised the price of everything a half-penny; and shecontinued to refuse to give credit.

Of course there are the trades-men's carts—the butcher, the fishman and
Timothy Baker.

But a person cannot live on "seed wigs" and sponge-cake andbutter-buns—not even when the sponge-cake is as good as Timothy's!

After a time Mr. John Dormouse and his daughter began to sellpeppermints and candles.

But they did not keep "self-fitting sixes"; and it takes five mice tocarry one seven inch candle.

Besides—the candles which they sell behave very strangely in warmweather.

And Miss Dormouse refused to take back the ends when they were broughtback to her with complaints.

And when Mr. John Dormouse was complained to, he stayed in bed, andwould say nothing but "very snug;" which is not the way to carry on aretail business.

So everybody was pleased when Sally Henny Penny sent out a printedposter to say that she was going to re-open the shop—"Henny's OpeningSale! Grand co-operative Jumble! Penny's penny prices! Come buy, cometry, come buy!"

The poster really was most 'ticing.

There was a rush upon the opening day. The shop was crammed withcustomers, and there were crowds of mice upon the biscuit canisters.

Sally Henny Penny gets rather flustered when she tries to count outchange, and she insists on being paid cash; but she is quite harmless.

And she has laid in a remarkable assortment of bargains.

There is something to please everybody.

THE END

THE STORY OF MISS MOPPET

THIS is a Pussy called Miss Moppet, she thinks she has heard a mouse!

THIS is the Mouse peeping out behind the cupboard, and making fun of
Miss Moppet. He is not afraid of a kitten.

THIS is Miss Moppet jumping just too late; she misses the Mouse and hitsher own head.

SHE thinks it is a very hard cupboard!

THE Mouse watches Miss Moppet from the top of the cupboard.

MISS MOPPET ties up her head in a duster, and sits before the fire.

THE Mouse thinks she is looking very ill. He comes sliding down thebell-pull.

MISS MOPPET looks worse and worse. The Mouse comes a little nearer.

MISS MOPPET holds her poor head in her paws, and looks at him through ahole in the duster. The Mouse comes VERY close.

AND then all of a sudden—Miss Moppet jumps upon the Mouse!

AND because the Mouse has teased Miss Moppet—Miss Moppet thinks shewill tease the Mouse; which is not at all nice of Miss Moppet.

SHE ties him up in the duster, and tosses it about like a ball.

BUT she forgot about that hole in the duster; and when she untiedit—there was no Mouse!

HE has wriggled out and run away; and he is dancing a jig on the top ofthe cupboard!

THE END

THE TALE OF MR. JEREMY FISHER

FOR STEPHANIE FROM COUSIN B.

ONCE upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher; he lived ina little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond.

THE water was all slippy-sloppy in the larder and in the back passage.

But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet; nobody ever scolded him, andhe never caught a cold!

HE was quite pleased when he looked out and saw large drops of rain,splashing in the pond—

"I WILL get some worms and go fishing and catch a dish of minnows for mydinner," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "If I catch more than five fish, I willinvite my friends Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise and Sir Isaac Newton.The Alderman, however, eats salad."

MR. JEREMY put on a macintosh, and a pair of shiny goloshes; he took hisrod and basket, and set off with enormous hops to the place where hekept his boat.

THE boat was round and green, and very like the other lily-leaves. Itwas tied to a water-plant in the middle of the pond.

MR. JEREMY took a reed pole, and pushed the boat out into open water. "Iknow a good place for minnows," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

MR. JEREMY stuck his pole into the mud and fastened his boat to it.

Then he settled himself cross-legged and arranged his fishing tackle. Hehad the dearest little red float. His rod was a tough stalk of grass,his line was a fine long white horse-hair, and he tied a littlewriggling worm at the end.

THE rain trickled down his back, and for nearly an hour he stared at thefloat.

"This is getting tiresome, I think I should like some lunch," said Mr.
Jeremy Fisher.

HE punted back again amongst the water-plants, and took some lunch outof his basket.

"I will eat a butterfly sandwich, and wait till the shower is over,"said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

A GREAT big water-beetle came up underneath the lily leaf and tweakedthe toe of one of his goloshes.

Mr. Jeremy crossed his legs up shorter, out of reach, and went on eatinghis sandwich.

ONCE or twice something moved about with a rustle and a splash amongstthe rushes at the side of the pond.

"I trust that is not a rat," said Mr. Jeremy Fisher; "I think I hadbetter get away from here."

MR. JEREMY shoved the boat out again a little way, and dropped in thebait. There was a bite almost directly; the float gave a tremendousbobbit!

"A minnow! a minnow! I have him by the nose!" cried Mr. Jeremy Fisher,jerking up his rod.

BUT what a horrible surprise! Instead of a smooth fat minnow, Mr. Jeremylanded little Jack Sharp the stickleback, covered with spines!

THE stickleback floundered about the boat, pricking and snapping untilhe was quite out of breath. Then he jumped back into the water.

AND a shoal of other little fishes put their heads out, and laughed at
Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

AND while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the edge of his boat—suckinghis sore fingers and peering down into the water—a MUCH worse thinghappened; a really FRIGHTFUL thing it would have been, if Mr. Jeremy hadnot been wearing a macintosh!

A GREAT big enormous trout came up—ker-pflop-p-p-p! with a splash—andit seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"—and then it turned anddived down to the bottom of the pond!

BUT the trout was so displeased with the taste of the macintosh, that inless than half a minute it spat him out again; and the only thing itswallowed was Mr. Jeremy's goloshes.

MR. JEREMY bounced up to the surface of the water, like a cork and thebubbles out of a soda water bottle; and he swam with all his might tothe edge of the pond.

HE scrambled out on the first bank he came to, and he hopped home acrossthe meadow with his macintosh all in tatters.

"WHAT a mercy that was not a pike!" said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "I have lostmy rod and basket; but it does not much matter, for I am sure I shouldnever have dared to go fishing again!"

HE put some sticking plaster on his fingers, and his friends both cameto dinner. He could not offer them fish, but he had something else inhis larder.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON wore his black and gold waistcoat,

AND Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise brought a salad with him in a stringbag.

AND instead of a nice dish of minnows—they had a roasted grasshopperwith lady-bird sauce; which frogs consider a beautiful treat; but Ithink it must have been nasty!

THE END

THE TALE OF TIMMY TIPTOES

FOR MANY UNKNOWN LITTLE FRIENDS, INCLUDING MONICA

ONCE upon a time there was a little fat comfortable grey squirrel,called Timmy Tiptoes. He had a nest thatched with leaves in the top of atall tree; and he had a little squirrel wife called Goody.

TIMMY TIPTOES sat out, enjoying the breeze; he whisked his tail andchuckled—"Little wife Goody, the nuts are ripe; we must lay up a storefor winter and spring." Goody Tiptoes was busy pushing moss under thethatch—"The nest is so snug, we shall be sound asleep all winter.""Then we shall wake up all the thinner, when there is nothing to eat inspring-time," replied prudent Timothy.

WHEN Timmy and Goody Tiptoes came to the nut thicket, they found othersquirrels were there already.

Timmy took off his jacket and hung it on a twig; they worked awayquietly by themselves.

EVERY day they made several journeys and picked quantities of nuts. Theycarried them away in bags, and stored them in several hollow stumps nearthe tree where they had built their nest.

WHEN these stumps were full, they began to empty the bags into a holehigh up a tree, that had belonged to a wood-pecker; the nuts rattleddown—down—down inside.

"How shall you ever get them out again? It is like a money-box!" said
Goody.

"I shall be much thinner before spring-time, my love," said Timmy
Tiptoes, peeping into the hole.

THEY did collect quantities—because they did not lose them! Squirrelswho bury their nuts in the ground lose more than half, because theycannot remember the place.

The most forgetful squirrel in the wood was called Silvertail. He beganto dig, and he could not remember. And then he dug again and found somenuts that did not belong to him; and there was a fight. And othersquirrels began to dig,—the whole wood was in commotion!

UNFORTUNATELY, just at this time a flock of little birds flew by, frombush to bush, searching for green caterpillars and spiders. There wereseveral sorts of little birds, twittering different songs.

The first one sang—"Who's bin digging-up MY nuts? Who's-been-digging-up
MY nuts?"

And another sang—"Little bita bread and-NO-cheese! Little bit-a-breadan'-NO-cheese!"

THE squirrels followed and listened. The first little bird flew into thebush where Timmy and Goody Tiptoes were quietly tying up their bags, andit sang—"Who's-bin digging-up MY nuts? Who's been digging-up MY-nuts?"

Timmy Tiptoes went on with his work without replying; indeed, the littlebird did not expect an answer. It was only singing its natural song, andit meant nothing at all.

BUT when the other squirrels heard that song, they rushed upon TimmyTiptoes and cuffed and scratched him, and upset his bag of nuts. Theinnocent little bird which had caused all the mischief, flew away in afright!

Timmy rolled over and over, and then turned tail and fled towards hisnest, followed by a crowd of squirrels shouting—"Who's-been digging-upMY-nuts?"

THEY caught him and dragged him up the very same tree, where there wasthe little round hole, and they pushed him in. The hole was much toosmall for Timmy Tiptoes' figure. They squeezed him dreadfully, it was awonder they did not break his ribs. "We will leave him here till heconfesses," said Silvertail Squirrel, and he shouted into the hole—

"Who's-been-digging-up MY-nuts?"

TIMMY TIPTOES made no reply; he had tumbled down inside the tree, uponhalf a peck of nuts belonging to himself. He lay quite stunned andstill.

GOODY TIPTOES picked up the nut bags and went home. She made a cup oftea for Timmy; but he didn't come and didn't come.

Goody Tiptoes passed a lonely and unhappy night. Next morning sheventured back to the nut-bushes to look for him; but the other unkindsquirrels drove her away.

She wandered all over the wood, calling—

"Timmy Tiptoes! Timmy Tiptoes! Oh, where is Timmy Tiptoes?"

IN the meantime Timmy Tiptoes came to his senses. He found himselftucked up in a little moss bed, very much in the dark, feeling sore; itseemed to be under ground. Timmy coughed and groaned, because his ribshurted him. There was a chirpy noise, and a small striped Chipmunkappeared with a night light, and hoped he felt better?

It was most kind to Timmy Tiptoes; it lent him its nightcap; and thehouse was full of provisions.

THE Chipmunk explained that it had rained nuts through the top of thetree—"Besides, I found a few buried!" It laughed and chuckled when itheard Timmy's story. While Timmy was confined to bed, it 'ticed him toeat quantities—"But how shall I ever get out through that hole unless Ithin myself? My wife will be anxious!" "Just another nut—or two nuts;let me crack them for you," said the Chipmunk. Timmy Tiptoes grew fatterand fatter!

NOW Goody Tiptoes had set to work again by herself. She did not put anymore nuts into the woodpecker's hole, because she had always doubted howthey could be got out again. She hid them under a tree root; theyrattled down, down, down. Once when Goody emptied an extra big bagful,there was a decided squeak; and next time Goody brought another bagful,a little striped Chipmunk scrambled out in a hurry.

"IT is getting perfectly full-up down-stairs; the sitting-room is full,and they are rolling along the passage; and my husband, Chippy Hackee,has run away and left me. What is the explanation of these showers ofnuts?"

"I am sure I beg your pardon; I did not not know that anybody livedhere," said Mrs. Goody Tiptoes; "but where is Chippy Hackee? My husband,Timmy Tiptoes, has run away too." "I know where Chippy is; a little birdtold me," said Mrs. Chippy Hackee.

SHE led the way to the woodpecker's tree, and they listened at the hole.

Down below there was a noise of nut crackers, and a fat squirrel voiceand a thin squirrel voice were singing together—

    "My little old man and I fell out,
    How shall we bring this matter about?
    Bring it about as well as you can,
    And get you gone, you little old man!"

"You could squeeze in, through that little round hole," said Goody
Tiptoes. "Yes, I could," said the Chipmunk, "but my husband, Chippy
Hackee, bites!"

Down below there was a noise of cracking nuts and nibbling; and then thefat squirrel voice and the thin squirrel voice sang—

    "For the diddlum day
    Day diddle dum di!
    Day diddle diddle dum day!"

THEN Goody peeped in at the hole, and called down—"Timmy Tiptoes! Ohfie, Timmy Tiptoes!" And Timmy replied, "Is that you, Goody Tiptoes?Why, certainly!"

He came up and kissed Goody through the hole; but he was so fat that hecould not get out.

Chippy Hackee was not too fat, but he did not want to come; he stayeddown below and chuckled.

AND so it went on for a fortnight; till a big wind blew off the top ofthe tree, and opened up the hole and let in the rain.

Then Timmy Tiptoes came out, and went home with an umbrella.

BUT Chippy Hackee continued to camp out for another week, although itwas uncomfortable.

AT last a large bear came walking through the wood. Perhaps he also waslooking for nuts; he seemed to be sniffing around.

CHIPPY HACKEE went home in a hurry!

AND when Chippy Hackee got home, he found he had caught a cold in hishead; and he was more uncomfortable still.

And now Timmy and Goody Tiptoes keep their nut-store fastened up with alittle padlock.

AND whenever that little bird sees the Chipmunks, hesings—"Who's-been-digging-up MY-nuts? Who's been digging-up MY-nuts?"But nobody ever answers!

THE END

THE PIE AND THE PATTY-PAN

    Pussy-cat sits by the fire—how should she be fair?
    In walks the little dog—says "Pussy are you there?
    How do you do mistress Pussy? Mistress Pussy, how do you do?"
    "I thank you kindly, little dog, I fare as well as you!"
                                       Old Rhyme.

ONCE upon a time there was a Pussy-cat called Ribby, who invited alittle dog called Duchess to tea.

"Come in good time, my dear Duchess," said Ribby's letter, "and we willhave something so very nice. I am baking it in a pie-dish—a pie-dishwith a pink rim. You never tasted anything so good! And YOU shall eat itall! Iwill eat muffins, my dear Duchess!" wrote Ribby.

Duchess read the letter and wrote an answer:—"I will come with muchpleasure at a quarter past four. But it is very strange. Iwas justgoing to invite you to come here, to supper, my dear Ribby, to eatsomething MOST DELICIOUS."

"I will come very punctually, my dear Ribby," wrote Duchess; and then atthe end she added—"I hope it isn't mouse?"

And then she thought that did not look quite polite; so she scratchedout "isn't mouse" and changed it to "I hope it will be fine," and shegave her letter to the postman.

But she thought a great deal about Ribby's pie, and she read Ribby'sletter over and over again.

"I am dreadfully afraid it WILL be mouse!" said Duchess to herself—"Ireally couldn't, COULDN'T eat mouse pie. And I shall have to eat it,because it is a party. And MY pie was going to be veal and ham. A pinkand white pie-dish! and so is mine; just like Ribby's dishes; they wereboth bought at Tabitha Twitchit's."

Duchess went into her larder and took the pie off a shelf and looked atit.

"It is all ready to put into the oven. Such lovely pie-crust; and I putin a little tin patty-pan to hold up the crust; and I made a hole in themiddle with a fork to let out the steam—Oh I do wish I could eat my ownpie, instead of a pie made of mouse!"

Duchess considered and considered and read Ribby' s letter again—

"A pink and white pie-dish-and YOU shall eat it all. 'You' meansme—then Ribby is not going to even taste the pie herself? A pink andwhite pie-dish! Ribby is sure to go out to buy the muffins….. Oh whata good idea! Why shouldn't I rush along and put my pie into Ribby's ovenwhen Ribby isn't there?"

Duchess was quite delighted with her own cleverness!

Ribby in the meantime had received Duchess's answer, and as soon as shewas sure that the little dog would come—she popped HER pie into theoven. There were two ovens, one above the other; some other knobs andhandles were only ornamental and not intended to open. Ribby put the pieinto the lower oven; the door was very stiff.

"The top oven bakes too quickly," said Ribby to herself. "It is a pie ofthe most delicate and tender mouse minced up with bacon. And I havetaken out all the bones; because Duchess did nearly choke herself with afish-bone last time I gave a party. She eats a little fast—rather bigmouthfuls. But a most genteel and elegant little dog infinitely superiorcompany to Cousin Tabitha Twitchit."

Ribby put on some coal and swept up the hearth. Then she went out with acan to the well, for water to fill up the kettle.

Then she began to set the room in order, for it was the sitting-room aswell as the kitchen. She shook the mats out at the front-door and putthem straight; the hearth-rug was a rabbit-skin. She dusted the clockand the ornaments on the mantelpiece, and she polished and rubbed thetables and chairs.

Then she spread a very clean white table-cloth, and set out her bestchina tea-set, which she took out of a wall-cupboard near the fireplace.The tea-cups were white with a pattern of pink roses; and thedinner-plates were white and blue.

When Ribby had laid the table she took a jug and a blue and white dish,and went out down the field to the farm, to fetch milk and butter.

When she came back, she peeped into the bottom oven; the pie looked verycomfortable.

Ribby put on her shawl and bonnet and went out again with a basket, tothe village shop to buy a packet of tea, a pound of lump sugar, and apot of marmalade.

And just at the same time, Duchess came out of HER house, at the otherend of the village.

Ribby met Duchess half-way own the street, also carrying a basket,covered with a cloth. They only bowed to one another; they did notspeak, because they were going to have a party.

As soon as Duchess had got round the corner out of sight—she simplyran! Straight away to Ribby's house!

Ribby went into the shop and bought what she required, and came out,after a pleasant gossip with Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

Cousin Tabitha was disdainful afterwards in conversation—

"A little DOG indeed! Just as if there were no CATS in Sawrey! And a PIEfor afternoon tea! The very idea!" said Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

Ribby went on to Timothy Baker's and bought the muffins. Then she wenthome.

There seemed to be a sort of scuffling noise in the back passage, as shewas coming in at the front door.

"I trust that is not that Pie: the spoons are locked up, however," said
Ribby.

But there was nobody there. Ribby opened the bottom oven door with somedifficulty, and turned the pie. There began to be a pleasing smell ofbaked mouse!

Duchess in the meantime, had slipped out at the back door.

"It is a very odd thing that Ribby's pie was NOT in the oven when I putmine in! And I can t find it anywhere; I have looked all over the house.I put MY pie into a nice hot oven at the top. I could not turn any ofthe other handles; I think that they are all shams," said Duchess, "butI wish I could have removed the pie made of mouse! I cannot think whatshe has done with it? I heard Ribby coming and I had to run out by theback door!"

Duchess went home and brushed her beautiful black coat; and then shepicked a bunch of flowers in her garden as a present for Ribby; andpassed the time until the clock struck four.

Ribby—having assured herself by careful search that there was really noone hiding in the cupboard or in the larder—went upstairs to change herdress.

She put on a lilac silk gown, for the party, and an embroidered muslinapron and tippet.

"It is very strange," said Ribby, "I did not THINK I left that drawerpulled out; has somebody been trying on my mittens?"

She came downstairs again, and made the tea, and put the teapot on thehob. She peeped again into the BOTTOM oven, the pie had become a lovelybrown, and it was steaming hot.

She sat down before the fire to wait for the little dog. "I am glad Iused the BOTTOM oven," said Ribby, "the top one would certainly havebeen very much too hot. I wonder why that cupboard door was open? Canthere really have been some one in the house?"

Very punctually at four o'clock, Duchess started to go to the party. Sheran so fast through the village that she was too early, and she had towait a little while in the lane that leads down to Ribby's house.

"I wonder if Ribby has taken MY pie out of the oven yet?" said Duchess,"and whatever can have become of the other pie made of mouse?"

At a quarter past four to the minute, there came a most genteel littletap-tappity. "Is Mrs. Ribston at home?" inquired Duchess in the porch.

"Come in! and how do you do, my dear Duchess?" cried Ribby. "I hope Isee you well?"

"Quite well, I thank you, and how do YOU do, my dear Ribby?" said
Duchess. "I've brought you some flowers; what a delicious smell of pie!"

"Oh, what lovely flowers! Yes, it is mouse and bacon!"

"Do not talk about food, my dear Ribby," said Duchess; "what a lovelywhite tea-cloth!…. Is it done to a turn? Is it still in the oven?"

"I think it wants another five minutes," said Ribby. "Just a shadelonger; I will pour out the tea, while we wait. Do you take sugar, mydear Duchess?"

"Oh yes, please! my dear Ribby; and may I have a lump upon my nose?"

"With pleasure, my dear Duchess; how beautifully you beg! Oh, howsweetly pretty!"

Duchess sat up with the sugar on her nose and sniffed—

"How good that pie smells! I do love veal and ham—I mean to say mouseand bacon——"

She dropped the sugar in confusion, and had to go hunting under thetea-table, so did not see which oven Ribby opened in order to get outthe pie.

Ribby set the pie upon the table; there was a very savoury smell.

Duchess came out from under the table-cloth munching sugar, and sat upon a chair.

"I will first cut the pie for you; I am going to have muffin andmarmalade," said Ribby.

"Do you really prefer muffin? Mind the patty-pan!"

"I beg your pardon?" said Ribby.

"May I pass you the marmalade?" said Duchess hurriedly.

The pie proved extremely toothsome, and the muffins light and hot. Theydisappeared rapidly, especially the pie!

"I think"—(thought the Duchess to herself)—"I THINK it would be wiserif I helped myself to pie; though Ribby did not seem to notice anythingwhen she was cutting it. What very small fine pieces it has cooked into!I did not remember that I had minced it up so fine; I suppose this is aquicker oven than my own."

"How fast Duchess is eating!" thought Ribby to herself, as she butteredher fifth muffin.

The pie-dish was emptying rapidly! Duchess had had four helps already,and was fumbling with the spoon.

"A little more bacon, my dear Duchess?" said Ribby.

"Thank you, my dear Ribby; I was only feeling for the patty-pan."

"The patty-pan? my dear Duchess?"

"The patty-pan that held up the pie-crust," said Duchess, blushing underher black coat.

"Oh, I didn't put one in, my dear Duchess," said Ribby; "I don't thinkthat it is necessary in pies made of mouse."

Duchess fumbled with the spoon—"I can't find it!" she said anxiously.

"There isn't a patty-pan," said Ribby, looking perplexed.

"Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby; where can it have gone to?" said Duchess.

"There most certainly is not one, my dear Duchess. I disapprove of tinarticles in puddings and pies. It is most undesirable—(especially whenpeople swallow in lumps!)" she added in a lower voice.

Duchess looked very much alarmed, and continued to scoop the inside ofthe pie-dish.

"My Great-aunt Squintina (grandmother of Cousin Tabitha Twitchit)—diedof a thimble in a Christmas plum-pudding. Inever put any article ofmetal in MY puddings or pies."

Duchess looked aghast, and tilted up the pie-dish.

"I have only four patty-pans, and they are all in the cupboard."

Duchess set up a howl.

"I shall die! I shall die! I have swallowed a patty-pan! Oh, my dear
Ribby, I do feel so ill!"

"It is impossible, my dear Duchess; there was not a patty-pan."

Duchess moaned and whined and rocked herself about.

"Oh I feel so dreadful. I have swallowed a patty-pan!"

"There was NOTHING in the pie," said Ribby severely.

"Yes there WAS, my dear Ribby, I am sure I have swallowed it!"

"Let me prop you up with a pillow, my dear Duchess; where do you thinkyou feel it?"

"Oh I do feel so ill ALL OVER me, my dear Ribby; I have swallowed alarge tin patty-pan with a sharp scalloped edge!"

"Shall I run for the doctor? I will just lock up the spoons!"

"Oh yes, yes! fetch Dr. Maggotty, my dear Ribby: he is a Pie himself, hewill certainly understand."

Ribby settled Duchess in an armchair before the fire, and went out andhurried to the village to look for the doctor.

She found him at the smithy.

He was occupied in putting rusty nails into a bottle of ink, which hehad obtained at the post office.

"Gammon? ha! HA!" said he, with his head on one side.

Ribby explained that her guest had swallowed a patty-pan.

"Spinach? ha! HA!" said he, and accompanied her with alacrity.

He hopped so fast that Ribby—had to run. It was most conspicuous. Allthe village could see that Ribby was fetching the doctor.

"I KNEW they would over-eat themselves!" said Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

But while Ribby had been hunting for the doctor—a curious thing hadhappened to Duchess, who had been left by herself, sitting before thefire, sighing and groaning and feeling very unhappy.

"How COULD I have swallowed it! such a large thing as a patty-pan!"

She got up and went to the table, and felt inside the pie-dish againwith a spoon.

"No; there is no patty-pan, and I put one in; and nobody has eaten pieexcept me, so I must have swallowed it!"

She sat down again, and stared mournfully at the grate. The firecrackled and danced, and something sizz-z-zled!

Duchess started! She opened the door of the TOP oven;—out came a richsteamy flavour of veal and ham, and there stood a fine brown pie,—andthrough a hole in the top of the pie-crust there was a glimpse of alittle tin patty-pan!

Duchess drew a long breath—

"Then I must have been eating MOUSE!… NO wonder I feel ill…. Butperhaps I should feel worse if I had really swallowed a patty-pan!"Duchess reflected—"What a very awkward thing to have to explain toRibby! I think I will put my pie in the back-yard and say nothing aboutit. When I go home, I will run round and take it away." She put itoutside the back-door, and sat down again by the fire, and shut hereyes; when Ribby arrived with the doctor, she seemed fast asleep.

"Gammon, ha, HA?" said the doctor.

"I am feeling very much better," said Duchess, waking up with a jump.

"I am truly glad to hear it!" He has brought you a pill, my dear
Duchess!"

"I think I should feel QUITE well if he only felt my pulse," saidDuchess, backing away from the magpie, who sidled up with something inhis beak.

"It is only a bread pill, you had much better take it; drink a littlemilk, my dear Duchess!"

"Gammon? Gammon?" said the doctor, while Duchess coughed and choked.

"Don't say that again!" said Ribby, losing her temper—"Here, take thisbread and jam, and get out into the yard!"

"Gammon and spinach! ha ha HA!" shouted Dr. Maggotty triumphantlyoutside the back door.

"I am feeling very much better, my dear Ribby," said Duchess. "Do younot think that I had better go home before it gets dark?"

"Perhaps it might be wise, my dear Duchess. I will lend you a nice warmshawl, and you shall take my arm."

"I would not trouble you for worlds; I feel wonderfully better. One pillof Dr. Maggotty——"

"Indeed it is most admirable, if it has cured you of a patty-pan! I willcall directly after breakfast to ask how you have slept."

Ribby and Duchess said good-bye affectionately, and Duchess startedhome. Half-way up the lane she stopped and looked back; Ribby had gonein and shut her door. Duchess slipped through the fence, and ran roundto the back of Ribby's house, and peeped into the yard.

Upon the roof of the pig-stye sat Dr. Maggotty and three jackdaws. Thejackdaws were eating pie-crust, and the magpie was drinking gravy out ofa patty-pan.

"Gammon, ha, HA!" he shouted when he saw Duchess's little black nosepeeping round the corner.

Duchess ran home feeling uncommonly silly!

When Ribby came out for a pailful of water to wash up the tea-things,she found a pink and white pie-dish lying smashed in the middle of theyard. The patty-pan was under the pump, where Dr Maggotty hadconsiderately left it.

Ribby stared with amazement—"Did you ever see the like! so there really
WAS a patty-pan?…. But my patty-pans are all in the kitchen cupboard.
Well I never did!…. Next time I want to give a party—I will invite
Cousin Tabitha Twitchit!"

THE END

THE TALE OF JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK A FARMYARD TALE FOR RALPH AND BETSY

WHAT a funny sight it is to see a brood of ducklings with a hen!—Listen to the story of Jemima Puddle-duck, who was annoyed because thefarmer's wife would not let her hatch her own eggs.

HER sister-in-law, Mrs. Rebeccah Puddle-duck, was perfectly willing toleave the hatching to some one else—"I have not the patience to sit ona nest for twenty-eight days; and no more have you, Jemima. You wouldlet them go cold; you know you would!"

"I wish to hatch my own eggs; I will hatch them all by myself," quacked
Jemima Puddle-duck.

SHE tried to hide her eggs; but they were always found and carried off.

Jemima Puddle-duck became quite desperate. She determined to make a nestright away from the farm.

SHE set off on a fine spring afternoon along the cart-road that leadsover the hill.

She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.

WHEN she reached the top of the hill, she saw a wood in the distance.

She thought that it looked a safe quiet spot.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK was not much in the habit of flying. She ran downhilla few yards flapping her shawl, and then she jumped off into the air.

SHE flew beautifully when she had got a good start.

She skimmed along over the tree-tops until she saw an open place in themiddle of the wood, where the trees and brushwood had been cleared.

JEMIMA alighted rather heavily, and began to waddle about in search of aconvenient dry nesting-place. She rather fancied a tree-stump amongstsome tall fox-gloves.

But—seated upon the stump, she was startled to find an elegantlydressed gentleman reading a newspaper.

He had black prick ears and sandy coloured whiskers.

"Quack?" said Jemima Puddle-duck, with her head and her bonnet on oneside—"Quack?"

THE gentleman raised his eyes above his newspaper and looked curiouslyat Jemima—

"Madam, have you lost your way?" said he. He had a long bushy tail whichhe was sitting upon, as the stump was somewhat damp.

Jemima thought him mighty civil and handsome. She explained that she hadnot lost her way, but that she was trying to find a convenient drynesting-place.

"AH! is that so? indeed!" said the gentleman with sandy whiskers,looking curiously at Jemima. He folded up the newspaper, and put it inhis coat-tail pocket.

Jemima complained of the superfluous hen.

"Indeed! how interesting! I wish I could meet with that fowl. I wouldteach it to mind its own business!"

"BUT as to a nest—there is no difficulty: I have a sackful of feathersin my wood-shed. No, my dear madam, you will be in nobody's way. You maysit there as long as you like," said the bushy long-tailed gentleman.

He led the way to a very retired, dismal-looking house amongst thefox-gloves.

It was built of faggots and turf, and there were two broken pails, oneon top of another, by way of a chimney.

"THIS is my summer residence; you would not find my earth—my winterhouse—so convenient," said the hospitable gentleman.

There was a tumble-down shed at the back of the house, made of oldsoap-boxes. The gentleman opened the door, and showed Jemima in.

THE shed was almost quite full of feathers—it was almost suffocating;but it was comfortable and very soft.

Jemima Puddle-duck was rather surprised to find such a vast quantity offeathers. But it was very comfortable; and she made a nest without anytrouble at all.

WHEN she came out, the sandy whiskered gentleman was sitting on a logreading the newspaper—at least he had it spread out, but he was lookingover the top of it.

He was so polite, that he seemed almost sorry to let Jemima go home forthe night. He promised to take great care of her nest until she cameback again next day.

He said he loved eggs and ducklings; he should be proud to see a finenestful in his wood-shed.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK came every afternoon; she laid nine eggs in the nest.They were greeny white and very large. The foxy gentleman admired themimmensely. He used to turn them over and count them when Jemima was notthere.

At last Jemima told him that she intended to begin to sit next day—"andI will bring a bag of corn with me, so that I need never leave my nestuntil the eggs are hatched. They might catch cold," said theconscientious Jemima.

"MADAM, I beg you not to trouble yourself with a bag; I will provideoats. But before you commence your tedious sitting, I intend to give youa treat. Let us have a dinner-party all to ourselves!

"May I ask you to bring up some herbs from the farm-garden to make asavoury omelette? Sage and thyme, and mint and two onions, and someparsley. I will provide lard for the stuff-lard for the omelette," saidthe hospitable gentleman with sandy whiskers.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK was a simpleton: not even the mention of sage andonions made her suspicious.

She went round the farm-garden, nibbling off snippets of all thedifferent sorts of herbs that are used for stuffing roast duck.

AND she waddled into the kitchen, and got two onions out of a basket.

The collie-dog Kep met her coming out, "What are you doing with thoseonions? Where do you go every afternoon by yourself, JemimaPuddle-duck?"

Jemima was rather in awe of the collie; she told him the whole story.

The collie listened, with his wise head on one side; he grinned when shedescribed the polite gentleman with sandy whiskers.

HE asked several questions about the wood, and about the exact positionof the house and shed.

Then he went out, and trotted down the village. He went to look for twofox-hound puppies who were out at walk with the butcher.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK went up the cart-road for the last time, on a sunnyafternoon. She was rather burdened with bunches of herbs and two onionsin a bag.

She flew over the wood, and alighted opposite the house of the bushylong-tailed gentleman.

HE was sitting on a log; he sniffed the air, and kept glancing uneasilyround the wood. When Jemima alighted he quite jumped.

"Come into the house as soon as you have looked at your eggs. Give methe herbs for the omelette. Be sharp!"

He was rather abrupt. Jemima Puddle-duck had never heard him speak likethat.

She felt surprised, and uncomfortable.

WHILE she was inside she heard pattering feet round the back of theshed. Some one with a black nose sniffed at the bottom of the door, andthen locked it.

Jemima became much alarmed.

A MOMENT afterwards there were most awful noises—barking, baying,growls and howls, squealing and groans.

And nothing more was ever seen of that foxy-whiskered gentleman.

PRESENTLY Kep opened the door of the shed, and let out Jemima
Puddle-duck.

Unfortunately the puppies rushed in and gobbled up all the eggs beforehe could stop them.

He had a bite on his ear and both the puppies were limping.

JEMIMA PUDDLE-DUCK was escorted home in tears on account of those eggs.

SHE laid some more in June, and she was permitted to keep them herself:but only four of them hatched.

Jemima Puddle-duck said that it was because of her nerves; but she hadalways been a bad sitter.

THE END

THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

FOR CECILY AND CHARLIE, A TALE OF THE CHRISTMAS PIG.

THE TALE OF PIGLING BLAND

ONCE upon a time there was an old pig called Aunt Pettitoes. She hadeight of a family: four little girl pigs, called Cross-patch, Suck-suck,Yock-yock and Spot;

and four little boy pigs, called Alexander, Pigling Bland, Chin-chin andStumpy. Stumpy had had an accident to his tail.

The eight little pigs had very fine appetites. "Yus, yus, yus! they eatand indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt Pettitoes, looking at her family withpride. Suddenly there were fearful squeals; Alexander had squeezedinside the hoops of the pig trough and stuck.

Aunt Pettitoes and I dragged him out by the hind legs.

Chin-chin was already in disgrace; it was washing day, and he had eatena piece of soap. And presently in a basket of clean clothes, we foundanother dirty little pig. "Tchut, tut, tut! whichever is this?" gruntedAunt Pettitoes.

Now all the pig family are pink, or pink with black spots, but this pigchild was smutty black all over; when it had been popped into a tub, itproved to be Yock-yock.

I went into the garden; there I found Cross-patch and Suck-suck rootingup carrots. I whipped them myself and led them out by the ears.Cross-patch tried to bite me.

"Aunt Pettitoes, Aunt Pettitoes! you are a worthy person, but yourfamily is not well brought up. Every one of them has been in mischiefexcept Spot and Pigling Bland."

"Yus, yus!" sighed Aunt Pettitoes. "And they drink bucketfuls of milk; Ishall have to get another cow! Good little Spot shall stay at home to dothe housework; but the others must go. Four little boy pigs and fourlittle girl pigs are too many altogether." "Yus, yus, yus," said AuntPettitoes, "there will be more to eat without them."

So Chin-chin and Suck-suck went away in a wheel-barrow, and Stumpy,
Yock-yock and Cross-patch rode away in a cart.

And the other two little boy pigs, Pigling Bland and Alexander, went tomarket. We brushed their coats, we curled their tails and washed theirlittle faces, and wished them good-bye in the yard.

Aunt Pettitoes wiped her eyes with a large pocket handkerchief, then shewiped Pigling Bland's nose and shed tears; then she wiped Alexander'snose and shed tears; then she passed the handkerchief to Spot. AuntPettitoes sighed and grunted, and addressed those little pigs asfollows:

"Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Take yourbrother Alexander by the hand. Mind your Sunday clothes, and remember toblow your nose"—

(Aunt Pettitoes passed round the handkerchief again)—"beware of traps,hen roosts, bacon and eggs; always walk upon your hind legs." PiglingBland, who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, atear trickled down his cheek.

Aunt Pettitoes turned to the other—"Now son Alexander take thehand"—"Wee, wee, wee!" giggled Alexander—"take the hand of yourbrother Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Mind—" "Wee, wee, wee!"interrupted Alexander again. "You put me out," said Aunt Pettitoes.

"Observe sign-posts and milestones; do not gobble herring bones—" "Andremember," said I impressively, "if you once cross the county boundaryyou cannot come back.

Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licences permitting twopigs to go to market in Lancashire. Attend, Alexander. I have had no endof trouble in getting these papers from the policeman."

Pigling Bland listened gravely; Alexander was hopelessly volatile.

I pinned the papers, for safety, inside their waistcoat pockets;

Aunt Pettitoes gave to each a little bundle, and eight conversationpeppermints with appropriate moral sentiments in screws of paper. Thenthey started.

Pigling Bland and Alexander trotted along steadily for a mile; at leastPigling Bland did. Alexander made the road half as long again byskipping from side to side. He danced about and pinched his brother,singing—

    "This pig went to market, this pig
         stayed at home,
    "This pig had a bit of meat—

let's see what they have given US for dinner, Pigling?"

Pigling Bland and Alexander sat down and untied their bundles. Alexandergobbled up his dinner in no time; he had already eaten all his ownpeppermints. "Give me one of yours, please, Pigling."

"But I wish to preserve them for emergencies," said Pigling Blanddoubtfully. Alexander went into squeals of laughter. Then he prickedPigling with the pin that had fastened his pig paper; and when Piglingslapped him he dropped the pin, and tried to take Pigling's pin, and thepapers got mixed up. Pigling Bland reproved Alexander.

But presently they made it up again, and trotted away together,singing—

    "Tom, Tom, the piper's son, stole a pig
         and away he ran!
    "But all the tune that he could play,
         was 'Over the hills and far away!'"

"What's that, young sirs? Stole a pig? Where are your licences?" saidthe policeman. They had nearly run against him round a corner. PiglingBland pulled out his paper; Alexander, after fumbling, handed oversomething scrumply—

"To 2 1/2 oz. conversation sweeties at three farthings"—"What's this?This ain't a licence." Alexander's nose lengthened visibly, he had lostit. "I had one, indeed I had, Mr. Policeman!"

"It's not likely they let you start without. I am passing the farm. Youmay walk with me." "Can I come back too?" inquired Pigling Bland. "I seeno reason, young sir; your paper is all right." Pigling Bland did notlike going on alone, and it was beginning to rain. But it is unwise toargue with the police; he gave his brother a peppermint, and watched himout of sight.

To conclude the adventures of Alexander—the policeman sauntered up tothe house about tea time, followed by a damp subdued little pig. Idisposed of Alexander in the neighbourhood; he did fairly well when hehad settled down.

Pigling Bland went on alone dejectedly; he came to cross-roads and asign-post—"To Market Town, 5 miles," "Over the Hills, 4 miles," "ToPettitoes Farm, 3 miles."

Pigling Bland was shocked, there was little hope of sleeping in MarketTown, and to-morrow was the hiring fair; it was deplorable to think howmuch time had been wasted by the frivolity of Alexander.

He glanced wistfully along the road towards the hills, and then set offwalking obediently the other way, buttoning up his coat against therain. He had never wanted to go; and the idea of standing all by himselfin a crowded market, to be stared at, pushed, and hired by some bigstrange farmer was very disagreeable—

"I wish I could have a little garden and grow potatoes," said Pigling
Bland.

He put his cold hand in his pocket and felt his paper, he put his otherhand in his other pocket and felt another paper—Alexander's! Piglingsquealed; then ran back frantically, hoping to overtake Alexander andthe policeman.

He took a wrong turn—several wrong turns, and was quite lost.

It grew dark, the wind whistled, the trees creaked and groaned.

Pigling Bland became frightened and cried "Wee, wee, wee! I can't findmy way home!"

After an hour's wandering he got out of the wood; the moon shone throughthe clouds, and Pigling Bland saw a country that was new to him.

The road crossed a moor; below was a wide valley with a river twinklingin the moonlight, and beyond, in misty distance, lay the hills.

He saw a small wooden hut, made his way to it, and crept inside—"I amafraid it IS a hen house, but what can I do?" said Pigling Bland, wetand cold and quite tired out.

"Bacon and eggs, bacon and eggs!" clucked a hen on a perch.

"Trap, trap, trap! cackle, cackle, cackle!" scolded the disturbedcockerel. "To market, to market! jiggetty jig!" clucked a broody whitehen roosting next to him. Pigling Bland, much alarmed, determined toleave at daybreak. In the meantime, he and the hens fell asleep.

In less than an hour they were all awakened. The owner, Mr. Peter ThomasPiperson, came with a lantern and a hamper to catch six fowls to take tomarket in the morning.

He grabbed the white hen roosting next to the cock; then his eye fellupon Pigling Bland, squeezed up in a corner. He made a singularremark—"Hallo, here's another!"—seized Pigling by the scruff of theneck, and dropped him into the hamper. Then he dropped in five moredirty, kicking, cackling hens upon the top of Pigling Bland.

The hamper containing six fowls and a young pig was no light weight; itwas taken down hill, unsteadily, with jerks. Pigling, although nearlyscratched to pieces, contrived to hide the papers and peppermints insidehis clothes.

At last the hamper was bumped down upon a kitchen floor, the lid wasopened, and Pigling was lifted out. He looked up, blinking, and saw anoffensively ugly elderly man, grinning from ear to ear.

"This one's come of himself, whatever," said Mr. Piperson, turningPigling's pockets inside out. He pushed the hamper into a corner, threwa sack over it to keep the hens quiet, put a pot on the fire, andunlaced his boots.

Pigling Bland drew forward a coppy stool, and sat on the edge of it,shyly warming his hands. Mr. Piperson pulled off a boot and threw itagainst the wainscot at the further end of the kitchen. There was asmothered noise—"Shut up!" said Mr. Piperson. Pigling Bland warmed hishands, and eyed him.

Mr. Piperson pulled off the other boot and flung it after the first,there was again a curious noise—"Be quiet, will ye?" said Mr. Piperson.Pigling Bland sat on the very edge of the coppy stool.

Mr. Piperson fetched meal from a chest and made porridge. It seemed toPigling that something at the further end of the kitchen was taking asuppressed interest in the cooking, but he was too hungry to be troubledby noises.

Mr. Piperson poured out three platefuls: for himself, for Pigling, and athird—after glaring at Pigling—he put away with much scuffling, andlocked up. Pigling Bland ate his supper discreetly.

After supper Mr. Piperson consulted an almanac, and felt Pigling's ribs;it was too late in the season for curing bacon, and he grudged his meal.Besides, the hens had seen this pig.

He looked at the small remains of a flitch, and then looked undecidedlyat Pigling. "You may sleep on the rug," said Mr. Peter Thomas Piperson.

Pigling Bland slept like a top. In the morning Mr. Piperson made moreporridge; the weather was warmer. He looked to see how much meal wasleft in the chest, and seemed dissatisfied—"You'll likely be moving onagain?" said he to Pigling Bland.

Before Pigling could reply, a neighbour, who was giving Mr. Piperson andthe hens a lift, whistled from the gate. Mr. Piperson hurried out withthe hamper, enjoining Pigling to shut the door behind him and not meddlewith nought; or "I'll come back and skin ye!" said Mr. Piperson.

It crossed Pigling's mind that if HE had asked for a lift, too, he mightstill have been in time for market.

But he distrusted Peter Thomas.

After finishing breakfast at his leisure, Pigling had a look round thecottage; everything was locked up. He found some potato peelings in abucket in the back kitchen. Pigling ate the peel, and washed up theporridge plates in the bucket. He sang while he worked—

    "Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
         He called up all the girls and boys—
    "And they all ran to hear him play
         "'Over the hills and far away!'"

Suddenly a little smothered voice chimed in—

    "Over the hills and a great way off,
         The wind shall blow my top knot off!"

Pigling Bland put down a plate which he was wiping, and listened.

After a long pause, Pigling went on tip-toe and peeped round the doorinto the front kitchen. There was nobody there.

After another pause, Pigling approached the door of the locked cupboard,and snuffed at the key-hole. It was quite quiet.

After another long pause, Pigling pushed a peppermint under the door. Itwas sucked in immediately.

In the course of the day Pigling pushed in all the remaining sixpeppermints.

When Mr. Piperson returned, he found Pigling sitting before the fire; hehad brushed up the hearth and put on the pot to boil; the meal was notget-at-able.

Mr. Piperson was very affable; he slapped Pigling on the back, made lotsof porridge and forgot to lock the meal chest. He did lock the cupboarddoor; but without properly shutting it. He went to bed early, and toldPigling upon no account to disturb him next day before twelve o'clock.

Pigling Bland sat by the fire, eating his supper.

All at once at his elbow, a little voice spoke—"My name is Pig-wig.
Make me more porridge, please!" Pigling Bland jumped, and looked round.

A perfectly lovely little black Berkshire pig stood smiling beside him.She had twinkly little screwed up eyes, a double chin, and a shortturned up nose.

She pointed at Pigling's plate; he hastily gave it to her, and fled tothe meal chest. "How did you come here?" asked Pigling Bland.

"Stolen," replied Pig-wig, with her mouth full. Pigling helped himselfto meal without scruple. "What for?" "Bacon, hams," replied Pig-wigcheerfully. "Why on earth don't you run away?" exclaimed the horrifiedPigling.

"I shall after supper," said Pig-wig decidedly.

Pigling Bland made more porridge and watched her shyly.

She finished a second plate, got up, and looked about her, as though shewere going to start.

"You can't go in the dark," said Pigling Bland.

Pig-wig looked anxious.

"Do you know your way by daylight?"

"I know we can see this little white house from the hills across theriver. Which way are YOU going, Mr. Pig?"

"To market—I have two pig papers. I might take you to the bridge; ifyou have no objection," said Pigling much confused and sitting on theedge of his coppy stool. Pig-wig's gratitude was such and she asked somany questions that it became embarrassing to Pigling Bland.

He was obliged to shut his eyes and pretend to sleep. She became quiet,and there was a smell of peppermint.

"I thought you had eaten them," said Pigling, waking suddenly.

"Only the corners," replied Pig-wig, studying the sentiments with muchinterest by the firelight.

"I wish you wouldn't; he might smell them through the ceiling," said thealarmed Pigling.

Pig-wig put back the sticky peppermints into her pocket; "Singsomething," she demanded.

"I am sorry … I have tooth-ache," said Pigling much dismayed.

"Then I will sing," replied Pig-wig. "You will not mind if I say iddytidditty? I have forgotten some of the words."

Pigling Bland made no objection; he sat with his eyes half shut, andwatched her.

She wagged her head and rocked about, clapping time and singing in asweet little grunty voice—

    "A funny old mother pig lived in a
         stye, and three little piggies had she;
    "(Ti idditty idditty) umph, umph,
         umph! and the little pigs said, wee, wee!"

She sang successfully through three or four verses, only at every verseher head nodded a little lower, and her little twinkly eyes closed up.

    "Those three little piggies grew peaky
         and lean, and lean they might very
         well be;
    "For somehow they couldn't say umph,
         umph, umph! and they wouldn't
         say wee, wee, wee!
    "For somehow they couldn't say—

Pig-wig's head bobbed lower and lower, until she rolled over, a littleround ball, fast asleep on the hearth-rug.

Pigling Bland, on tip-toe, covered her up with an antimacassar.

He was afraid to go to sleep himself; for the rest of the night he satlistening to the chirping of the crickets and to the snores of Mr.Piperson overhead.

Early in the morning, between dark and daylight, Pigling tied up hislittle bundle and woke up Pig-wig. She was excited and half-frightened."But it's dark! How can we find our way?"

"The cock has crowed; we must start before the hens come out; they mightshout to Mr. Piperson."

Pig-wig sat down again, and commenced to cry.

"Come away Pig-wig; we can see when we get used to it. Come! I can hearthem clucking!"

Pigling had never said shuh! to a hen in his life, being peaceable; alsohe remembered the hamper.

He opened the house door quietly and shut it after them. There was nogarden; the neighbourhood of Mr. Piperson's was all scratched up byfowls. They slipped away hand in hand across an untidy field to theroad.

The sun rose while they were crossing the moor, a dazzle of light overthe tops of the hills. The sunshine crept down the slopes into thepeaceful green valleys, where little white cottages nestled in gardensand orchards.

"That's Westmorland," said Pig-wig. She dropped Pigling's hand andcommenced to dance, singing—

         "Tom, Tom, the piper's son, stole a pig
              and away he ran!

    "But all the tune that he could play,
              was 'Over the hills and far away!'"

"Come, Pig-wig, we must get to the bridge before folks are stirring."
"Why do you want to go to market, Pigling?" inquired Pig-wig presently.
"I don't want; I want to grow potatoes." "Have a peppermint?" said
Pig-wig. Pigling Bland refused quite crossly. "Does your poor toothy
hurt?" inquired Pig-wig. Pigling Bland grunted.

Pig-wig ate the peppermint herself and followed the opposite side of theroad. "Pig-wig! keep under the wall, there's a man ploughing." Pig-wigcrossed over, they hurried down hill towards the county boundary.

Suddenly Pigling stopped; he heard wheels.

Slowly jogging up the road below them came a tradesman's cart. The reinsflapped on the horse's back, the grocer was reading a newspaper.

"Take that peppermint out of your mouth, Pig-wig, we may have to run.
Don't say one word. Leave it to me. And in sight of the bridge!" said
poor Pigling, nearly crying. He began to walk frightfully lame, holding
Pig-wig's arm.

The grocer, intent upon his news-paper, might have passed them, if hishorse had not shied and snorted. He pulled the cart crossways, and helddown his whip. "Hallo! Where are YOU going to?"—Pigling Bland stared athim vacantly.

"Are you deaf? Are you going to market?" Pigling nodded slowly.

"I thought as much. It was yesterday. Show me your licence?"

Pigling stared at the off hind shoe of the grocer's horse which hadpicked up a stone.

The grocer flicked his whip—"Papers? Pig licence?" Pigling fumbled inall his pockets, and handed up the papers. The grocer read them, butstill seemed dissatisfied. "This here pig is a young lady; is her nameAlexander?" Pig-wig opened her mouth and shut it again; Pigling coughedasthmatically.

The grocer ran his finger down the advertisement column of hisnewspaper—"Lost, stolen or strayed, 10s. reward." He lookedsuspiciously at Pig-wig. Then he stood up in the trap, and whistled forthe ploughman.

"You wait here while I drive on and speak to him," said the grocer,gathering up the reins. He knew that pigs are slippery; but surely, sucha VERY lame pig could never run!

"Not yet, Pig-wig, he will look back." The grocer did so; he saw the twopigs stock-still in the middle of the road. Then he looked over at hishorse's heels; it was lame also; the stone took some time to knock out,after he got to the ploughman.

"Now, Pig-wig, NOW!" said Pigling Bland.

Never did any pigs run as these pigs ran! They raced and squealed andpelted down the long white hill towards the bridge. Little fat Pig-wig'spetticoats fluttered, and her feet went pitter, patter, pitter, as shebounded and jumped.

They ran, and they ran, and they ran down the hill, and across a shortcut on level green turf at the bottom, between pebble beds and rushes.

They came to the river, they came to the bridge—they crossed it hand inhand—then over the hills and far away she danced with Pigling Bland!

THE END

THE TALE OF TWO BAD MICE

FOR W. M. L. W. THE LITTLE GIRL WHO HAD THE DOLL HOUSE

ONCE upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's house; it was redbrick with white windows, and it had real muslin curtains and a frontdoor and a chimney.

IT belonged to two Dolls called Lucinda and Jane; at least it belongedto Lucinda, but she never ordered meals.

Jane was the Cook; but she never did any cooking, because the dinner hadbeen bought ready-made, in a box full of shavings.

THERE were two red lobsters, and a ham, a fish, a pudding, and somepears and oranges.

They would not come off the plates, but they were extremely beautiful.

ONE morning Lucinda and Jane had gone out for a drive in the doll'sperambulator. There was no one in the nursery, and it was very quiet.Presently there was a little scuffling, scratching noise in a cornernear the fireplace, where there was a hole under the skirting-board.

Tom Thumb put out his head for a moment, and then popped it in again.

Tom Thumb was a mouse.

A MINUTE afterwards Hunca Munca, his wife, put her head out, too; andwhen she saw that there was no one in the nursery, she ventured out onthe oilcloth under the coal-box.

THE doll's house stood at the other side of the fireplace. Tom Thumb andHunca Munca went cautiously across the hearth-rug. They pushed the frontdoor—it was not fast.

TOM THUMB and Hunca Munca went up-stairs and peeped into thedining-room. Then they squeaked with joy!

Such a lovely dinner was laid out upon the table! There were tin spoons,and lead knives and forks, and two dolly-chairs—all SO convenient!

TOM THUMB set to work at once to carve the ham. It was a beautiful shinyyellow, streaked with red.

The knife crumpled up and hurt him; he put his finger in his mouth.

"It is not boiled enough; it is hard. You have a try, Hunca Munca."

HUNCA MUNCA stood up in her chair, and chopped at the ham with anotherlead knife.

"It's as hard as the hams at the cheesemonger's," said Hunca Munca.

THE ham broke off the plate with a jerk, and rolled under the table.

"Let it alone," said Tom Thumb; "give me some fish, Hunca Munca!"

HUNCA MUNCA tried every tin spoon in turn; the fish was glued to thedish.

Then Tom Thumb lost his temper. He put the ham in the middle of thefloor, and hit it with the tongs and with the shovel—bang, bang, smash,smash!

The ham flew all into pieces, for underneath the shiny paint it was madeof nothing but plaster!

THEN there was no end to the rage and disappointment of Tom Thumb andHunca Munca. They broke up the pudding, the lobsters, the pears, and theoranges.

As the fish would not come off the plate, they put it into the red-hotcrinkly paper fire in the kitchen; but it would not burn either.

TOM THUMB went up the kitchen chimney and looked out at the top—therewas no soot.

WHILE Tom Thumb was up the chimney, Hunca Munca had anotherdisappointment. She found some tiny canisters upon the dresser, labeled"Rice," "Coffee" "Sago"; but when she turned them upside down there wasnothing inside except red and blue beads.

THEN those mice set to work to do all the mischief theycould—especially Tom Thumb! He took Jane's clothes out of the chest ofdrawers in her bedroom, and he threw them out of the top-floor window.

But Hunca Munca had a frugal mind. After pulling half the feathers outof Lucinda's bolster, she remembered that she herself was in want of afeather-bed.

WITH Tom Thumb's assistance she carried the bolster down-stairs andacross the hearth-rug. It was difficult to squeeze the bolster into themouse-hole; but they managed it somehow.

THEN Hunca Munca went back and fetched a chair, a bookcase, a bird-cage,and several small odds and ends. The bookcase and the bird-cage refusedto go into the mouse-hole.

HUNCA MUNCA left them behind the coal-box, and went to fetch a cradle.

HUNCA MUNCA was just returning with another chair, when suddenly therewas a noise of talking outside upon the landing. The mice rushed back totheir hole, and the dolls came into the nursery.

WHAT a sight met the eyes of Jane and Lucinda!

Lucinda sat upon the upset kitchen stove and stared, and Jane leanedagainst the kitchen dresser and smiled; but neither of them made anyremark.

THE bookcase and the bird-cage were rescued from under the coal-box; but
Hunca Munca has got the cradle and some of Lucinda's clothes.

SHE also has some useful pots and pans, and several other things.

THE little girl that the doll's house belonged to said: "I will get adoll dressed like a policeman!"

BUT the nurse said: "I will set a mouse-trap!"

SO that is the story of the two Bad Mice. But they were not so very,very naughty after all, because Tom Thumb paid for everything he broke.

He found a crooked sixpence under the hearth-rug; and upon Christmas Evehe and Hunca Munca stuffed it into one of the stockings of Lucinda andJane.

AND very early every morning—before anybody is awake—Hunca Muncacomes with her dust-pan and her broom to sweep the Dollies' house!

THE END

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