Part 9

“20 lettuce leaf dollar bills and 46 carrot cents,” replied poor Uncle Lucky. “You’ll have to trust me till I go home. I’m a little short of change to-day.”

“All right, but let me go through your pockets,” growled the old fox, pushing his paw inside the old rabbit’s coat. Pretty soon he took out a leather wallet.

“Ha, ha!” laughed that wicked beast, “maybe I’ll find a Liberty Bond.” But he didn’t. No, siree! He found only a cigar coupon, two transfers and a picture of Little Jack Rabbit in pretty colors.

“Fudge and oh, dear!” growled Danny Fox. “Take back your wallet. Where are the lettuce leaf dollar bills?”

“In my inside vest pocket,” answered the old gentleman rabbit. But in taking them out Danny Fox tickled dear Uncle Lucky almost to pieces!

“Ha, ha!” went the old fox. “You’re a ticklish bunny rabbit. Goodness me, but you’re tickle-ish!”

“Tee hee! tee hee!” giggled poor Uncle Lucky, squirming this way and that way, until all of a sudden off went his old wedding stovepipe hat!

By this time, however, Danny Fox had the 10 lettuce leaf dollar bills in his paw, and was just going to take the 23 carrot cents when just like that, quick as a wink, and maybe quicker, a rope fell over his head, yanking him backwards.

“Wow, wow, g-r-r-r-r!” coughed and choked the old robber, as the rope grew tighter and tighter. Pretty soon his eyes almost popped out of his head.

“You wicked old beast!” shouted a friendly voice, and the next minute the Cowboy in Uncle Lucky’s Circus ran out from behind the trees.

“What shall I do with this old fox?” he asked, picking up the old stovepipe hat.

“Anything you wish,” replied Uncle Lucky. “Why not take him to the circus and lock him up in a cage? He can be one of the wild animals the children like to look at.”

“To be sure,” said the Cowboy. “Come along,” and he gave a tug to the rope.

“Drop my money before you say good-by, Mr. Danny Fox!” cried anxious Uncle Lucky.

“Oh, let me go, I beg of you, I’ll die in a circus tent. Oh, leave me here in the forest dear Where I never pay any rent,”

begged Danny Fox, as the Cowboy dragged him off to the Circus in Turnip City.

“Don’t listen to him,” cautioned Uncle Lucky, who couldn’t forget how he would have been robbed had the Cowboy not come along just in the nick of time.

“I’ll pay no attention to the old robber,” answered the Cowboy, and in a few minutes he was out of sight.

“Well, that’s a relief,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, picking up the 10 lettuce leaf dollar bills. “I’m glad to get back my money. But, goodness me! I’ll be late for supper,” and hopping into the Luckymobile, he hurried home to Little Miss Mousie.

BUNNY TALE 18

OLD HOOTY TOOTY OWL

“When everything is going wrong Just hum a merry little song. Yes, hum it over twice again, You’ll find a rainbow through the rain.

And soon the sky will turn a blue, The rooster sing a cockle-doo, And Bobbie Redvest from his tree A song of joy that is to be,”

sang Lady Love, the little rabbit’s pretty mother, as her bunny boy hopped into the kitchen.

“How do you remember all your songs?” he asked.

“I just make them up,” replied Lady Love, with a smile:

“Happiness is in the heart, Singing all the day. Nothing’s dull when one is glad— Work seems just like play.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the little bunny boy, “I think you could write wonderful fairy stories.”

“Maybe!” answered Lady Love, with a wistful smile, as she ironed her little son’s blouse, “but I’ve only time to dream them. Perhaps some day we’ll find time, you and I, to fill a book with songs of our little white bungalow.”

Just then a knock came at the kitchen door. There stood the Yellow Dog Tramp, his old straw hat over one ear and a little tin can in his hand—I beg your pardon, I mean paw.

“Won’t you fill my old tin cup with coffee till it’s brimming up?” asked the good old Bow-Wow in poetry. You see, he had lived in the woods where the birds sing and the leaves rustle and had turned into a dog poet without knowing it.

“Come right in and you shall see A lady bunny make turnip tea. We have no coffee, but you won’t care If I give you tea and a chocolate éclair,”

answered Lady Love.

“No, indeed!” answered the Yellow Dog Tramp. “I’m not particular,” and carefully wiping his feet on the door-mat, he trotted into the spotless little kitchen.

“My, but you look pretty in your blue apron,” he remarked, as the lady bunny put on the kettle.

“Mother always looks pretty,” agreed Little Jack Rabbit. “She just can’t help it.”

“That’s because she’s always doing something for somebody,” replied the Yellow Dog Tramp. “I remember my mother was just like her, but that was long ago before I left the farm to become a hobo dog.” I guess the Yellow Dog Tramp was right. All mothers are pretty to boys and girls who love them.

“Well, I must be going back to the woods. It’s growing late,” said the old dog, after finishing three éclairs and emptying five tea-cups. “Thank you,” and away he ran.

“Cousin Cottontail has invited us over this evening,” said Lady Love, as she put away the dishes. “She has a new radio set. We’ll go over in time to hear the Jack Rabbit Man tell his stories.”

“Ha, ha!” cried the little bunny, “that will be fine!” and with a skip and a jump he hopped out on the porch where the little canary lived in her gold cage.

“Hello! Little Rabbit,” she twittered. “What makes you so happy?”

“Didn’t you hear what mother just said?” he asked, twinkling his pretty pink nose.

“No, what did she say?” answered the pretty yellow bird.

“That we are invited over to Cousin Cottontail’s to listen to David Cory’s bunny stories.”

Just then out hopped Lady Love and without waiting to tie her bonnet string, hurried after her bunny boy who was already half way to the little gate in the brambles.

But, oh, dear me, and oh, dear all of you little boys and girls! no sooner had these two dear bunnies reached the Old Rail Fence, about fifteen hops and maybe two skips from the Old Bramble Patch, than they heard somebody or something go “Toot, toot, toot!”

“Look out, mother!” cried the little bunny, and with a skiptoe sideways they both hopped into a hollow stump. Wasn’t it lucky that there was a hollow stump close by? Well, I just guess yes three times.

“Who was it?” asked Lady Love, in a whisper.

“Old Hooty Tooty Owl, maybe,” answered the little bunny.

Then they both listened to hear again that disagreeable noise, but all was still in the Shady Forest, so still that one could hardly hear Billy Breeze among the treetops.

“Dear me, I’m afraid to hop out,” whispered the little lady bunny rabbit mother.

“I’m not,” answered the brave little bunny, and out he hopped. But, oh, dear me! I wish he had been more cautious and not so foolishly brave, although I like brave little rabbit boys just the same, but bravery and foolhardiness are two very different things, oh, my yes, indeed.

All of a sudden, just like that, quick as the wind that blows off your hat, Old Hooty Tooty Owl grabbed up the little rabbit and pushed him through the window of his big Tree House.

“I’ll eat you when you’ve grown nice and fat,” tooted that wicked night bird.

“Oh, please let me go home to mother! It will take me a long time to grow big and fat. Maybe I’ll grow thin, instead. Yes, I’ll grow thinner and thinner until by and by I’ll be as thin as a pin,” sobbed the frightened bunny boy.

“Stuff and nonsense!” answered the old owl, “I’ll feed you on lollypops and ice cream cones.”

Just then a great pounding and hammering shook the big tree.

“I wonder who that can be?” thought the bad owl, peeping out of the window.

“Oh, I hope it’s mother with the brave Policeman Dog,” cried the poor frightened little bunny boy.

“Keep quiet,” whispered Hooty Tooty Owl, with a scowl. “If you make any noise I’ll twist off your head.”

Dear, oh, dear! that is a dreadful thing to hear from a big owl when you’re only a little bunny boy rabbit.

All of a sudden the pounding sounded again, only louder than before.

“Oh, I hope it’s mother,” thought the little rabbit, as he cowered and shivered in the corner of the wicked old owl’s sitting room. “Oh, I hope mother knows where I am.”

The next minute there came a tremendous crash—the Old Tree House shook from top to bottom.

“Rats and mice!” exclaimed the wicked owl. “Somebody means business. I guess I’ll look out of the attic window,” and the old feathered robber climbed up to the garret of his tree house, ’way up near the topmost branches, and peeped down.

At the foot of the tree stood poor Little Lady Love, the bunny boy’s mother, and the brave Policeman Dog.

Once again and then five times more this kind Protector of the Law knocked on the door with his great big club. Oh, my! how he did knock! What a thundering hub-a-dub-dub! Crash! smash! went the oak panel, and in fell the door with a bang!!!

“Where are you, my little bunny boy?” cried Lady Love.

“Where are you, Little Jack Rabbit?” shouted the Policeman Dog.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” answered the brave little bunny boy, “just as soon as I untie the rope.”

“Oh, hurry please,” cried Lady Love to the Policeman Dog, “my little boy is tied fast upstairs.”

Up the rickety stairway three steps at a jump went the brave dog and the little bunny’s mother. Pretty soon they came to a dark room, in the farthest corner of which cowered the poor little rabbit boy bunny prisoner.

“You untie the rope!” shouted the Policeman Dog, “I want to catch Old Hooty Tooty,” and up the attic stairs he leaped, only this time he made four steps at a jump.

“My poor little bunny,” cried Lady Love, as she loosened the last knot and clasped him in her arms.

All of a sudden there sounded a dreadful squawk and away flew old Hooty Tooty, tipsy topsy, this way and that way.

“I tickled him with my club,” laughed the Policeman Dog. “Now I’ll see you safe home, although I guess he won’t bother little rabbits for a long time.”

BUNNY TALE 19

LITTLE DEEDS OF KINDNESS

Now let’s see what Uncle Lucky is doing this lovely October weather, when the leaves are red and the pumpkins yellow as sunflowers. My goodness! what a dreadful time the old gentleman bunny had to keep on his old stovepipe hat these windy autumn days. No matter how tight he tied his blue silk polkadot handkerchief over the top and under his chin every once in a while Billy Breeze knocked it off and rolled it along the roadside.

“Well, it’s Autumn again and the leaves are all over the front lawn. I must telephone the old Red Rooster to come over and rake them up,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, hopping up to the telephone to call up

“Chickentown, oh, yes, oh, yes, Ring Happy Bells, Sue and Bess!”

“Who is it?” asked a cock-a-doodley voice.

“Mr. Red Rooster, I want you to rake The leaves from off my front lawn. I’ll give you some money and plenty of honey. Did you say that your watch was in pawn?

Well, never mind that, for I have a watch Which will tell you when five o’clock’s here. So come up to-morrow and don’t stop to borrow, I’ll pay you two dollars a year,”

answered funny Uncle Lucky, winking at Little Miss Mousie.

“All right,” agreed the Old Red Rooster. “I’ll be there to-morrow at six.” But whether he or Uncle Lucky hung up the receiver first I don’t know, for I never thought to ask the telephone girl.

“I just hate to have my place look disorderly,” sighed the dear old gentleman rabbit. “I’m glad that old rooster will be here to-morrow, although it makes me angry when he leans on his rake for hours at a time to watch the automobiles go by.”

“Let’s go out to the barn to see the pigeons,” suggested his tiny mouse housekeeper, curious to peep into the little house which Uncle Lucky had built on the roof of his old barn.

“I’ll take some corn along,” he said, filling his old wedding stovepipe hat up to the brim;

“Come, little pigeons, eat up the corn, I haven’t had time to buy rye, And you mustn’t care that the store on the square Has only a fresh apple pie,”

sang dear Uncle Lucky. By and by he hopped back into the house for his afternoon nap.

Bright and early the next morning, before Mr. Merry Sun had taken off his cloudy nightcap, the Old Red Rooster knocked on the kitchen door.

“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! Please open the door when I take off my hat!”

he sang, after rapping for the umpty ’leventh time. Dear me! Uncle Lucky was a sound sleeper. I guess he only woke up when his alarm clock tickled him.

“Wait a minute,” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit, poking his head out of the window. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he exclaimed, spying the old red rooster. “You’ll find the rake in the barn. Start right in to clean up the lawn. I’ll be out in a minute or three as soon as Miss Mousie has made the coffee.”

By and by when the Old Red Rooster had raked up a pile of leaves almost as high as the spur on his right leg, he sat down to rest. All of a sudden who should come limping along on three legs but Danny Fox.

“Oh, ho!” laughed the Old Red Rooster, although he never would have so much as smiled had Danny Fox been walking on four legs, let me tell you. Oh, my no!

“What’s that?” asked Danny Fox, angrily.

“Oh, ho!” repeated the Old Red Rooster, with a loud crow;

“Oh, Danny Fox has but three legs, He he, ha ha, ho ho! He walks as fast as a Messenger Boy And maybe twice as slow. He’d not catch me if I were tied To an old green apple tree. He he, ha ha, ho ho, ho ho, Ha ha, ha ha, he he!”

Dear me! Wasn’t that old fox angry.

“Nobody likes you, Danny Fox, You’re wicked and cruel and sly. You rob the henhouse every time When there is nobody nigh. You chase the little rabbits and hares, And fill them full of terrible scares. Oh, nobody loves you, Danny Fox, As you sneak around in your woolen socks.”

“What’s all this noise about?” asked Uncle Lucky, looking out of the window. But when he saw Danny Fox he closed it mighty quick, let me tell you.

Dear me, I was dreadfully afraid as Uncle Lucky closed the window that Danny Fox would catch the Old Red Rooster. But he didn’t. No, siree and a no, sireeman! His foot was too sore, so he limped away, saying with an angry snarl, “You just wait. Some day you’ll pay for the fun you’ve had with me,” which made the Old Red Rooster grow so pale with fear that when Uncle Lucky peeked out for the third time he thought a strange white rooster in his front yard was raking up the fallen leaves.

No sooner was Danny Fox out of sight than Uncle Lucky hopped down to breakfast.

“Maybe you’d better tell the Old Red Rooster to saw the wood. We’ll soon need an open fire in the sitting room,” said dear Uncle Lucky to Little Miss Mousie.

“Goodness me, this is a dull saw!” sighed the lazy old fowl, looking up at the old gentleman bunny’s pretty mouse housekeeper.

All of a sudden there came a loud knocking. Laying aside the morning paper and carefully placing his spectacles on the table, the old gentleman bunny slipped his feet into a pair of old carpet slippers and opened the door. Who do you suppose was standing on the little porch? Why, Little Jack Rabbit, of course. He had come all the way from the Old Bramble Patch to see his dear kind Uncle Lucky, who had given him a gold watch and chain you remember some three hundred and umpty-’leven stories ago in one of the Little Jack Rabbit Books.

“Glad to see you,” cried the old gentleman bunny and leading his little nephew into the parlor, he invited him to sit down in front of the fire which was blazing merrily on the hearth this cold October day.

“Oh, the wind will soon be whistling Around the kitchen door, And little drafts of chilliness Across the wooden floor Will almost take my slippers off And maybe bring the hopping cough,”

said the old gentleman rabbit. But he didn’t realize he was talking in poetry. Oh, my no. If he had I guess my typewriter would have pinned a red rose on the old gentleman’s coat.

“Well, what shall we do?” asked Little Jack Rabbit, being a restless little bunny who could never sit still in the same place at the same time for even a little while.

“We can take a ride in the Luckymobile,” answered Uncle Lucky.

“All right, let’s go,” laughed the little bunny, hopping out to the garage, while the old gentleman rabbit pulled on his boots and tied his blue silk polkadot handkerchief under his chin and over the top of his old wedding stovepipe hat so that it wouldn’t blow off when Billy Breeze blew.

Well, pretty soon, as they rolled along in the Luckymobile as fast as a comet, or maybe faster, for that Luckymobile could go when Uncle Lucky was in it. Oh, yes, ah, yes; they saw Danny Fox creeping along the Old Rail Fence.

“Oh, dear!” cried the little rabbit, “that old robber fox has stolen a chicken from the good kind farmer.”

“Well, we can’t help that,” answered Uncle Lucky. “Foxes must live as well as other people, only it’s too bad they can’t eat nuts like squirrels, or cabbages like rabbits.”

Then all of a sudden the little rabbit had a bright idea. Taking out his Policeman’s whistle, he blew on it with all his might. And, would you believe it! that crafty old fox thought the Policeman Dog was coming and dropped the chicken.

“My, you’re a clever little chap,” laughed Uncle Lucky, when all of a sudden, three little grasshoppers in a field close by began to sing:

“Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall we do Now that sweet summer time is through. We chirped and hopped all through the day And spent our time in happy play.

But now the autumn winds are cold, The little lambs are in the fold, With woolen overcoats so warm To keep them safe from chill and storm.”

“Hop into my Luckymobile,” invited Uncle Lucky. “We’ll take you home to Lady Love. You can live in the kitchen woodbox all winter and when Spring comes you may hop out and dance on the grass.”

Well, it didn’t take those three shivering grasshoppers long to jump into the Luckymobile, nor to reach the dear Old Bramble Patch.

“Lady Love! Lady Love!” shouted Uncle Lucky, hopping up the winding path through the bushes.

“What is it?” asked the pretty lady bunny, opening the kitchen door. How she laughed when she saw them all, Uncle Lucky, Little Jack Rabbit and the three Little Grasshoppers. But when the old gentleman rabbit had explained how shivery cold the grasshoppers were, and how he had brought them for a visit, the dear little bunny lady invited them into the kitchen to warm themselves by the stove. After poking the fire, she put on the kettle and set the table with apple pie and lollypops.

“Three grasshoppers sat down to eat, Heigh-ho and two pink gumdrops! They had apple pie and grains of wheat, Heigh-ho and three lollypops.

And what did they have to drink, Well, let me stop to think. Ice cream soda and turnip tea And then they were as happy as happy could be,”

sang the pretty Canary Bird.

And that’s how the Three Little Grasshoppers first came to spend the winter in Lady Love’s bungalow.

BUNNY TALE 20

VALENTINES

“The rose is red, the violet blue. Oh, how I love a rabbit stew, I love it most as well as you,”

wrote sly Old Danny Fox on the Valentine he sent to the big fat hen at the Farmyard. She was so pleased the next morning, thinking that Cocky Doodle had sent it, that she called him over to her nest to show him the nice white egg she had laid on St. Valentine’s Day. Of course he didn’t know she thought he had sent the valentine, so off he went to the Three-in-One Cent Store to buy her one, all covered with lace and gold hearts.

As he passed Uncle Lucky’s white house on the corner of Lettuce Avenue and Carrot Street he heard the old gentleman rabbit calling from the window to the Yellow Dog Tramp, who took care of the Luckymobile in the winter time:

“Come here, you good old yellow dog, And see my valentine. It makes me feel quite young again Although I’m fifty-nine.”

“Who sent it?” asked the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“Goodness gracious meebus! How do I know?” answered excited Uncle Lucky. “You never know who sends a valentine.”

All of a sudden the telephone bell rang.

“Hello, who’s this?” asked the old gentleman rabbit.

“It’s me, Little Jack Rabbit. Did you get your valentine?”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the old gentleman rabbit, and the next minute he shouted through the window: “Little Jack Rabbit sent it.”

“I wish I were back in old Vermont, Safe from worry and harm, But it’s many a day since I went away From my home on the dear old farm,”

answered the Yellow Dog Tramp sadly, wiping his eyes as he trotted into the garage to polish the Luckymobile.

Pretty soon dear Uncle Lucky hopped out of the front door and down the road to Rabbitville, where he bought a valentine at the Three-in-One Cent Store for his little rabbit nephew. Then quickly hopping over to the Old Bramble Patch, for it was getting late and Mr. Merry Sun would soon be in bed in the purple west, the dear old gentleman rabbit tip-toed up to the front door of the little bunny’s house and dropped the valentine on the mat. Then, ringing the bell three times and a half, he quickly hid behind the rain barrel.

“Hurrah! Somebody’s sent me a valentine,” shouted Little Jack Rabbit, looking all around to see who had left it. But no one was in sight, except Charlie Chickadee picking dried berries off a bush.

“Did you leave this valentine?” asked the little bunny.

“No,” chuckled Charlie Chickadee, “but I know who did,” cocking his head on one side and winking his eye nearest the rain barrel.

“Who did it, then?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.

“If I should tell you I much fear That Mr. Lefthindfoot would hear And hop around the big rain barrel To end my pretty little carol,”

answered Charlie Chickadee. And away flew that naughty little bird, and none too soon, to dodge a snow ball that Uncle Lucky threw at him from behind the rain barrel. But it didn’t hit him, oh, my no! But it hit Old Danny Fox who was peeping through the brambles. Yes, siree, that’s what it did!

“Ha, ha! I’m glad Charlie Chickadee made me angry,” chuckled dear Uncle Lucky, and the next moment he laughed so hard that one of the pearl buttons on his pink waistcoat flew off and hit the end of the old fox’s tail as he hurried away. Wasn’t that wonderful? Well, I just guess it was. But perhaps you don’t know that Uncle Lucky was a good shot and had once pitched on the Rabbitville baseball team.

“I’m glad to be home in time for lunch,” said the old gentleman rabbit, as he opened his kitchen door. “I’m as hungry as two bears and three wildcats.”

“Home again, home again, Where it’s nice and warm. Home’s the nicest place to be When it’s going to storm. Let the lightning flash and dart, Let the thunder roar; What care we when safe at home And bolted is the door?”

sang his tiny mouse housekeeper.

“You are right, Little Miss Mousie,” answered dear Uncle Lucky, “but how do you know it’s going to rain?”

“Because,” answered the little mouse, “I heard Willie Wind say just now to the Weathercock: ‘I’m going to bring up a big black rain cloud, so put on your mackintosh and rubbers.’”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the old gentleman rabbit. “If the Weathercock puts on a mackintosh I’ll put on my bathing suit,” and funny old Uncle Lucky hopped into the sitting room to read the _Bunnyville Bugle_ while Little Miss Mousie set the table.

“Let me in,” all of a sudden cried a little voice at the window pane.