Part 1

_BEDTIME STORIES_

NEDDIE AND BECKIE STUBTAIL (TWO NICE BEARS)

BY HOWARD R. GARIS

AUTHOR OF “SAMMIE AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL,” “JOHNNIE AND BILLIE BUSHYTAIL,” “CHARLIE AND ARABELLA CHICK,” “THE SMITH BOYS,” “THE ISLAND BOYS,” ETC.

Illustrated by LOUIS WISA

A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS · · NEW YORK

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

These stories appeared originally in the Evening News, of Newark, N. J., and are reproduced in book form by the kind permission of the publishers of that paper, to whom the author extends his thanks.

CONTENTS

STORY PAGE I. NEDDIE AND BECKIE IN TROUBLE 9

II. BECKIE AND THE BUNS 17

III. NEDDIE AND THE BEES’ NEST 25

IV. BECKIE AND THE GRAPES 33

V. NEDDIE AND THE TRAINED BEAR 41

VI. THE STUBTAILS RUN AWAY 49

VII. NEDDIE AND BECKIE CLIMB A POLE 57

VIII. NEDDIE DOES A TRICK 65

IX. THE STUBTAILS’ THANKSGIVING 73

X. NEDDIE AND THE ELEPHANT 81

XI. BECKIE AND THE MONKEY 89

XII. NEDDIE AND BECKIE GO HOME 97

XIII. NEDDIE AND FUZZY WUZZYTAIL 104

XIV. BECKIE MAKES A DOLL’S DRESS 111

XV. NEDDIE’S JOKE ON UNCLE WIGWAG 119

XVI. MR. WHITEWASH AND THE STOVEPIPE 127

XVII. PAPA STUBTAIL IN A TRAP 135

XVIII. MAMMA STUBTAIL’S HONEY CAKES 143

XIX. NEDDIE AND THE KINDLING WOOD 151

XX. BECKIE’S COUGH MEDICINE 159

XXI. NEDDIE AND THE TOOTING HORN 167

XXII. BECKIE AND THE ORGAN MAN 175

XXIII. NEDDIE PLAYS THE PIANO 183

XXIV. NEDDIE AND BECKIE AT A PARTY 191

XXV. NEDDIE IN A SNOWBANK 199

XXVI. HELPING UNCLE WIGWAG 207

XXVII. BECKIE AND HER WAX DOLL 215

XXVIII. NEDDIE AND THE LEMON PIE 223

XXIX. BECKIE AND THE COLD BIRDIE 231

XXX. NEDDIE HELPS SANTA CLAUS 239

XXXI. NEDDIE AND BECKIE IN THE CHIMNEY 246

Neddie and Beckie Stubtail

STORY I NEDDIE AND BECKIE IN TROUBLE

So many different kinds of stories as I have told you! My goodness me, sakes alive, and some molasses popcorn! I should think you would get tired of them.

But I hope you do not, and, as everyone likes something new once in a while, I thought I would make up some new stories for you. I have been telling you about rabbits and squirrels and ducks and chickens. How would you like to hear now about some little bear children? Not bad, savage bears, you know, but nice, kind, gentle, tame ones who always minded the papa and mamma bears, went to bed when they were told, and all that.

Of course, I could tell you some stories about bad, growly and scratchy bears if I wanted to, but I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.

Now, then, for some bear stories.

Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, there lived in a house, called a cave, in the side of a hill, a family of bears. Their cave-house was not far from where Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dogs, had their kennel, and the bear cave was only a short distance away from where Joie and Tommie and Kittie Kat lived.

There were seven bears in the family, five grown-up ones and two children. There was a chap named Neddie, who was as nice a boy bear as you would want to meet. And there was a little girl bear named Beckie, and she was as cute as a soap bubble, if not cuter.

Then there were the papa and mamma bears. And their last name was Stubtail, for bears, you know, have only a little, short stubby tail—hardly a tail at all, to tell the truth. But still it is more of a tail than Buddy and Brighteyes, the guinea pig children, have.

Also living with this same Stubtail family of bears was an old gentleman bear named Uncle Wigwag, and the reason he was called that was because he was always playing tricks, or telling jokes, and when he laughed, after he had fooled anybody, he would wig and wag his head from side to side.

Also there was Aunt Piffy, who was so fat that she used to puff and pant as she came upstairs, and lastly there was a real old bear gentleman named Mr. Whitewash. He was called that because he was all white—he was a polar bear from the North Pole, and he always wanted to sit on a cake of ice.

So these bears lived together in the cave in the side of the hill, and they did many things, about which I shall have the pleasure of telling you. Neddie and Beckie did the most things to tell about, but, of course, sometimes the other bear folks did things also.

One day when Neddie and Beckie had come home from their school, Mrs. Stubtail, the bear lady, said to her children:

“Neddie—Beckie, I wish you would walk a little way through the woods, and meet your papa when he comes home from his work in the bed factory.” You see Mr. Stubtail worked at making mattresses for beds. With his long sharp claws he would make the inside of the mattresses all fluffy and soft so, no matter how wide awake you were, you always fell asleep when you stretched out on one of the beds the bear gentleman made.

“Why do you want us to meet papa?” asked Neddie.

“I want you to tell him to stop at the store on his way home and bring some honey,” said Mrs. Stubtail. “We are going to have hot cornmeal biscuits and honey for supper.”

“Oh, joy!” cried Beckie, clapping her paws together. Then she waltzed around on her hind paws and she and Neddie hurried off down the road to meet their papa.

As they were going along they heard a voice calling to them:

“Oh, ho! Children, wait a minute! Here comes your Uncle Wiggily with some ice cream cones for you!”

“Oh, let’s wait for our uncle, the rabbit gentleman,” said Neddie.

So he and Beckie waited, and they heard a rustling in the bushes and their mouths were just getting ready for the ice cream cones when out popped Uncle Wigwag, the joking old bear.

“Ha! Ha!” he cried, laughing and wigging and wagging his head. “That’s the time I fooled you!”

Neddie and Beckie were so disappointed that they did not know what to say. Uncle Wigwag was laughing at his joke, but when he saw how badly the bear children felt he said:

“Never mind. I’ll give you each a penny and you can buy yourself some ice cream cones.”

So he did, and then Beckie and Neddie were happy, and they went on to meet their papa, while Uncle Wigwag looked around for some one else on whom he could play a joke.

“We ought to meet papa soon now,” said Neddie, as he looked under an old stump to see if he could find any crabapples growing there.

“A little farther on and we’ll see him,” spoke Beckie.

They went on a little more, and all of a sudden Neddie saw a large hollow log lying on the ground. It was just like a stovepipe, only bigger and it had a hole all the way through it.

“Ha! I’m going to crawl through that hollow log!” cried Neddie.

“Better not,” warned Beckie. “Maybe something in it might catch you.”

“Pooh! I’m not afraid!” cried Neddie. “Anyhow, I can look all the way through. There’s not a thing in it.”

So he started to crawl through the hollow log, but my goodness me, sakes alive and some onion pancakes! Neddie had not gone very far before he found the hole in the log getting smaller.

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to crawl through to the other end,” thought the little boy bear. Then he tried to back out, but he could not—he was stuck fast inside the hollow log.

“Oh, help! Help!” cried Neddie, wiggling and trying to get out. But he was tightly held. He could hardly move.

“What’s the matter?” asked Beckie from where she stood outside the hollow log.

“I’m stuck! I can’t get out!” cried Neddie, and his voice sounded as if it were down cellar.

“Wait! I’ll get a long stick and poke you out, just like you poke out a bean that gets stuck in your putty-blower,” said Beckie. So she got a long stick, and poked it in through the hollow log. All at once the stick came up against something soft.

“What’s that?” asked Beckie, surprised like.

“Stop! Ouch! It’s me!” yelled Neddie. “Stop it! You’re tickling my back.”

“But I want to get you out,” said Beckie, poking in the stick again.

“You can’t do it that way,” said her brother. “I guess you’ll have to crawl in after me and pull me out.”

“All right,” said Beckie kindly, “I will.” So she climbed through the log from the same end where her brother had gone in. “I’m coming,” called Beckie. Then she grunted, all of a sudden.

“What’s the matter?” asked Neddie, anxious-like.

“I’m stuck, too,” answered Beckie. “Either I am too fat, or this log is too small. I can’t move either way, and I can’t help you.”

“Oh, dear!” cried Neddie. So there the two little bear children were in trouble inside the hollow log. They wiggled and squirmed and did everything they could think of to get out, but it was of no use. They were stuck fast.

I don’t know how long they might have had to stay, nor what might have happened to them, had not their papa come along just then from the bed factory. The bear gentleman heard cries coming from the hollow log, and, listening a moment, he knew they were made by his children, Beckie and Neddie.

“Ah ha!” cried Mr. Stubtail. “They are in the hollow log! I’ll soon get them out.”

Then, with his strong claws, Mr. Stubtail made a big hole in the side of the log, taking care not to scratch Beckie or Neddie. Soon the hole was large enough for the two bear children to come out about the middle of the side of the log. And, oh! how glad they were.

“I’ll never go in a hollow log again!” cried Beckie.

“Nor I,” added Neddie. Then they told their papa about their mamma wanting honey, and he took them by the paws and led them to the store where honey was sold and bought some. Next they all went home to supper, and Uncle Wigwag said it was a good joke on Beckie and Neddie to get stuck in the hollow log. Perhaps it was, but the bear children did not think so. But they liked the honey, anyhow.

So in the next story, if the jumping-jack doesn’t fall off his stick down into the cake dish, and get all covered with frosting so he looks like a candy doll, I’ll tell you about Beckie and the buns.

STORY II BECKIE AND THE BUNS

The next day, after Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little bear children, had been caught in the hollow log, and their papa had to claw them out, they didn’t go to school. It was not because they were not well enough, for, after all, being stuck inside a hollow log doesn’t hurt a bear child very much. You see they have a lot of soft, fluffy fur on them.

No, that wasn’t the reason Beckie and Neddie didn’t go to school. And it wasn’t because it was Saturday, either. No, it was because there was no school on account of the teacher bear having a toothache. And when a bear has the toothache he really can’t do anything. He has to go to the dentist right away.

It was so with the teacher bear.

On the outside of the school house door the bear teacher hung a white piece of birch bark, on which was printed:

NO SCHOOL TO-DAY. I’VE GOT THE TOOTHACHE.

“Oh, goodie!” cried Neddie when he read it, and he felt so happy that he tried to wag his little short tail, only he couldn’t.

“Why, Neddie, I’m s’prised at you!” exclaimed Tommie Kat, who, with his brother and sister, Joie and Kittie, had also come to school.

“Oh, I’m not glad ’cause teacher’s got the toothache,” said Neddie Stubtail quickly, “it’s just because there’s no school.”

“Oh, then so’m I glad,” said Kittie Kat, purring softly.

So all the animal children went home on account of the school being closed, and when Mrs. Stubtail saw Beckie and Neddie coming up to the cave-house, she exclaimed:

“Why, what does this mean?” The little bears told their mamma, and Aunt Piffy, who had just come up from down cellar, said:

“Well, if there is no (puff) school, I can (puff) hear your (puff) lessons!” You see she puffed because she was all out of breath.

“Oh, no, thank you,” said Neddie quickly, “we’ll have to-day’s lessons to-morrow, so we don’t have to study any now.”

Then he went out to have some fun: and one of the things he did was to watch his uncle Wigwag and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, building a new room onto the cave-house. It was a room made from a big hollow log—not the same one that Neddie and Beckie had been caught in, however, but another one. Mrs. Stubtail wanted her cave-house made larger so Uncle Wigwag suggested adding on a hollow log for a sitting-room.

So that’s what he and Mr. Whitewash were doing, and Neddie helped them by getting in their way every now and then, so they wouldn’t work too fast and get all tired out. Finally Uncle Wigwag said:

“Neddie, I wish you’d go to the store and get me some red paint to color this log green.” And, never thinking it was a joke, off Neddie ran.

Pretty soon after that his mamma wanted him to go to the store to get her a yeast cake, so she could make bread. But, as Neddie was not in sight, Beckie went.

On her way home with the yeast cake in her paws Beckie had to go past a house where some other bears lived. Now these bears were not nice and good. In fact they were bad, and because they were bad, and because the Stubtail family was a family of good bears the bad bears did not like them.

Why, would you believe it? Often those bad bears would take rabbit and squirrel and guinea pig children off to their dens and keep them there for ever and ever so long, just to be mean, you know. But none of the Stubtails, or Mr. Whitewash, or Uncle Wigwag, or Aunt Piffy would do anything like that. Maybe Uncle Wigwag would play a joke, or do something funny, but nothing that was real mean.

And once Mr. Whitewash met a little boy kitten in the woods—Joie Kat I think it was. And Joie was wiggling and squirming and twisting this way and that.

“What’s the matter, Joie?” asked Mr. Whitewash. “Have you the measles?”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Joie, “my back itches me terribly, and I can’t reach the place to scratch it. Oh, dear!”

Now, there’s nothing worse than to have an itchy place in your back and not be able to scratch it. Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, knew that, so with his claws he gently scratched Joie’s back for him and tickled the little kitten boy very much.

But if Joie had met one of the bad bears, why, my goodness me, and some peanut butter on your cracker! The bad bear would, just as soon as not, have taken Joie off to his den and made him pull chestnuts out of the fire for the other bears to eat. That’s what it is to be a bad bear!

And that was the cave-house in the woods which Beckie had to go past on her way home from the store with the yeast cake. But she was not afraid, even of the bad bears.

However, one of the bad bears, looking out of a window in his cave-house, saw her coming and he said to his brothers:

“Ha! There’s that goody-goody little Stubtail girl! I’m going to get her in here and pull her hair!”

“How are you going to do it?” asked another bear.

“I’ll show you!” spoke the first one.

So he went to the cupboard and got a lot of sweet buns. Bears, you know, love buns almost more than anything else. If ever you see some tame bears in a cage or in a park give them a few buns, and see how they enjoy them. That is, if the keeper lets you, not otherwise.

So this bad bear, who wanted to pull Beckie’s hair, just because she was good, threw a bun out of his window. It fell close to the little bear girl, who looked at it in surprise.

“Ha!” she exclaimed, “that is strange! I wonder if it is raining buns from the sky?” She looked up, but she could see none falling from the clouds, and because the bad bear who had thrown the bun was hiding behind the window curtains Beckie could not see him, either.

“Well, I’ll eat it,” the little animal said, and she did, for it was a good bun, even if a bad bear did throw it.

“Ha!” said one of the bad bears to his brother, “I don’t see how you’re going to get her in here to pull her hair just by tossing buns at her.”

“You just watch,” said the first bad bear.

Then he threw another bun, when Beckie wasn’t looking, and this one he did not toss quite so far. It fell nearer to the cave-house of the bad bears.

“Oh joy!” cried Beckie, seeing the second bun, “someone is very good to me to-day!”

Ah! If she had only known.

“See!” exclaimed one bad bear to the other, “that’s how I’m going to get Beckie in here! Every bun she picks up will bring her closer and closer to us, and soon I can jump out and grab her!”

Oh, wasn’t he the bad old bear!

Well, Beckie ate the second bun, and then came a third one, sailing through the air.

“Why, it surely is raining buns!” cried Beckie in delight. “I mustn’t eat them all. I’ll save some to take home to Neddie.”

So she began to put the buns in her pocket, and she never noticed that each one she picked up brought her nearer and nearer and nearer to the cave of the bad bears.

The last bun was almost on their doorstep, and, just as Beckie reached over for it, the bad bear jumped out and grabbed her.

“Oh dear!” cried poor Beckie Stubtail.

But the bad bears did not get a chance to take her into their house. Just as they were going to do it along came Mr. Whitewash, the kind polar bear. He was looking for Neddie to tell him Uncle Wigwag was only joking about the red paint to make a log green. And then Mr. Whitewash saw the bad bear grab Beckie who had picked up the buns.

And what do you think Mr. Whitewash did?

Why, the big, brave white polar bear went right up to the bad black bear and he cuffed him on the ears with his broad paws, and pushed him back inside his own house, and then he tickled that furry creature in the ribs until the bad bear had to laugh whether he wanted to or not, and then Mr. Whitewash just grabbed Beckie up under his paw and hurried away home with her. And, oh, how angry the bad bears were, because they could pull no one’s hair.

“Beckie, you must be very careful about going near that bear house again,” said her mamma when she heard the story.

“I will, but, anyhow, I got the buns,” said Beckie, as she gave Neddie some.

So that’s all now, if you please, but the next story will be about Neddie and the bees’ nest—that is, if the nutmeg grater doesn’t scratch the piano and make it cry when the rubber doll tries to play a song on it.

STORY III NEDDIE AND THE BEES’ NEST

One day, when Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little boy and girl bears, started for school, Uncle Wigwag, the funny old bear gentleman who, with Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, was building a sitting-room on to the cave-house out of a hollow tree log, said:

“Neddie, when you come back from your lessons this afternoon I shall have something for you to do.”

“All right,” answered Neddie politely, as he stood up on his hind legs and reached for a bunch of grapes growing on a vine in the woods. “All right, Uncle Wigwag. Do you want me to go after some blue paint to color a board pink?” and Neddie laughed.

Uncle Wigwag laughed too, for you see he was always playing jokes on Neddie and Beckie, and he remembered when he had once sent the little bear boy for the wrong kind of paint.

“No,” answered the old gentleman bear, “nothing like that, Neddie; I just want to take you for a walk in the woods, and have you go see Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, with me. Uncle Wiggily is going to sell his automobile and buy a new car, so maybe he’ll give us his old one.”

“Oh, joy! I hope he does!” cried Neddie.

“So do I!” exclaimed Beckie.

Then she and her brother went to school and learned their lessons, such as how to make beds in hollow stumps, and how to scratch their letters on the white bark of a birch tree and how to keep out of dangerous traps, and all things like that.

And all the while Neddie was wondering whether or not Uncle Wiggily would give them his old automobile.

“If he does,” thought the little bear boy, “we can have lots of fun. It will be better than sliding down hill or eating ice cream cones.”

Well, after a while, school was out, and the blackboards could take a rest and the pieces of chalk could lie down on the back of the erasers and go to sleep. Out trooped the animal children.

“Come on, Neddie!” cried Joie Kat, the kitten boy. “Let’s have a game of tag!”

“Or run a race!” added Tommie Kat.

“No, I’ve got to go home,” said Neddie. “My uncle is going to take me with him.”

So he did not stop to play, but hurried on. Beckie, however, played with Kittie Kat and with Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl, and Alice and Lulu Wibblewobble, the duck girls.

“Well, here I am, Uncle Wigwag!” at last called Neddie, as he ran up to the old bear gentleman. “Come on!”

“Just a minute, Neddie. Sit down on this board while I saw it in two, will you? I want it for the front steps,” said Uncle Wigwag.

So Neddie, thinking nothing wrong, sat down on the board, which was placed between two stumps, resting on them. And no sooner had Neddie seated himself, than “Crack!” went the board, breaking right in the middle, and down Neddie went. But he wasn’t hurt, for Uncle Wigwag, when he played this trick, had placed a pile of soft leaves for Neddie to fall on. They were just like a cushion.

“Excuse my joke!” laughed Uncle Wigwag. You see he had nearly sawed the board in two before Neddie arrived, and when the little bear boy sat on it the pieces were just held together by a few shreds of wood. Of course, they easily broke with Neddie’s weight.

“Oh, that’s all right! I don’t mind!” laughed Neddie, brushing the dried leaves off his fur. “You must have your joke, I suppose, Uncle Wigwag.”

“Indeed I must,” answered the old gentleman bear. “But here is a penny for you to buy a lollypop, because you took my trick so good-naturedly.”

Then Uncle Wigwag, shaking his head, set off through the woods with Neddie to the house of Uncle Wiggily, the rabbit gentleman, to ask for the old auto.

“Hum! Let me see!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily, when Uncle Wigwag had asked him. “My old auto, eh? Well, I will think about it. Sit down, Mr. Wigwag, and I’ll consider it.”

“And may I go off and buy a lollypop?” asked Neddie, hoping that, by the time he came back, Uncle Wiggily would have given Uncle Wigwag the old auto.

“Yes, toddle off!” exclaimed Uncle Wigwag, so Neddie toddled off.

On and on he went through the woods, and pretty soon he came to a tree on the side of which he saw something sticky. A number of flies were buzzing around it, and at first Neddie thought it was flypaper. But when he went closer he smelled something sweet, and putting the tip of his paw on it, and then putting his paw to his mouth, Neddie found the sticky stuff on the tree was honey; just as you wet the tip of your finger when you want to see whether there is sugar or salt in the pepper dish.

“Ah, ha! Honey!” cried Neddie. “I just love honey! It is better than lollypops!”

He put his red tongue on the sticky stuff, and licked off all he could reach. Then he stretched up with his paws and got more. Finally he could reach up no farther.

But he looked up, and he saw a big black lump high in the tree, and Neddie said to himself:

“That must be where the most honey is. I’ll climb up and get some, and take some home to mamma and Beckie.”

Now, Neddie could climb a tree very well. All bears can, even little baby ones, for they have sharp claws for that very thing. So Neddie got ready to climb, and before doing so he sang this little song:

“Honey, honey in a tree, Some for you and some for me. Oh! how I do love sweet honey, I can get this without money!”

Then Neddie began to climb. Higher and higher he went in the tree, and as he went up he could smell the sweet honey more and more, and his mouth fairly watered for it.