Part 6

“What is it?” she asked as she looked to see if her doll, Sarah Janet Picklefeather, was nicely covered up in the puppy dog’s basket, so she wouldn’t get cold while Beckie was at school.

“We’ll just play a trick on Uncle Wigwag,” went on Neddie. “He plays so many on us that it’s about time we played one on him.”

“Oh, yes, let’s do it!” cried Beckie, clapping her little paws. “But it won’t be a mean or an unkind trick, will it, Neddie? For Uncle Wigwag is very good to us, and gives us lollypops, even if he does play a joke on us now and then.”

“Oh, no, it won’t be a bad trick,” said Neddie, laughing. “Only a funny one.”

So the two little bear children went on to school, talking on the way of the joke they would play on Uncle Wigwag. In fact, Neddie was thinking so much about this that he did not pay enough attention to his lessons, and when the teacher asked him: “Why does a cow eat grass?” Neddie answered: “Because it’s a joke!”

You see, he was thinking of the one he and Beckie were going to play. But the teacher didn’t know that, so she made Neddie go down to the foot of the class for not answering correctly.

Well, when school was out, Neddie and Beckie hurried off by themselves to play the joke on Uncle Wigwag.

“Have you thought of what to do yet?” asked Beckie.

“Yes,” said Neddie, “you know it was cold last night, and the little puddle of water near our cave-house is frozen over. It’s as slippery as glass. Now we’ll cover the puddle over with some sawdust, so you can’t see the ice. Then we’ll make believe write a letter to Uncle Wigwag and we’ll put it on the top of the sawdust in the middle of the frozen puddle.

“He’ll run out to get the letter, when we tell him there is one for him, and he’ll slip on the ice and go down ‘ko-bunk!’”

“Oh, but won’t he get hurt?” asked Beckie, anxious-like.

“No, for his fur is so thick now that he won’t feel the fall,” said Neddie. “Come on, we’ll play the joke on him.”

So the two little bear children got some sawdust, and, when no one was looking, they sprinkled it on the ice so the slippery stuff could not be seen.

Then they made believe write a letter to Uncle Wigwag, and, putting it in a large envelope, with his name on the outside, they put this right in the middle of the frozen puddle, tossing it there so they themselves would not have to walk on the ice and maybe fall down.

“Now, we’ll hide behind this tree,” said Neddie, “and watch for Uncle Wigwag to fall down.” They had left word with Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, to tell Uncle Wigwag, as soon as he came in, that there was a letter for him on the sawdust. Mr. Whitewash, not knowing anything of the joke Neddie was playing, said he would tell Uncle Wigwag of the letter.

Well, after a while, when Neddie and Beckie had been hiding behind the tree for some time, out came Uncle Wigwag.

“Now, watch!” whispered Neddie. “See him tumble when he gets on the ice!”

But, instead of going over and picking up the letter, Uncle Wigwag put a box down on the ground, near the path by which Neddie and Beckie went to school, and then the old gentleman bear himself went and hid behind a tree.

“Oh, what do you know about that!” whispered Neddie. “He is playing a joke on us, just as I said he would. There’s nothing in that box but a piece of brick, or maybe a lot of stones. Uncle Wigwag expects we’ll pick it up, thinking it’s candy, and when we open it he’ll cry ‘April fool!’ even if it isn’t the month to play those jokes.”

“I believe that’s what he is doing,” said Beckie, laughing.

“Well, we’ll just not be fooled,” went on Neddie. “We’ll leave the make-believe box of candy alone, and wait until we see Uncle Wigwag go out on the ice after his letter and fall down.”

So the two little bear children, laughing to themselves at the joke they were playing on their fun-loving uncle, waited behind the tree. Uncle Wigwag waited behind his tree, too.

Pretty soon, along came Tommie Kat, the kitten boy. He saw the white box on the path, and cried:

“Oh, joy! I guess this is something good!”

“Watch him get fooled!” whispered Neddie. But lo and behold! Tommie opened the box and there it was filled with the nicest kind of candy! There wasn’t a stone or brick in it.

“Oh, yum-yum!” cried Tommie, as he ate the sweet stuff.

“Oh, dear!” cried Beckie. “It _was_ candy, after all. What kind of a joke do you call that?”

“I—I don’t know,” answered Neddie, rubbing his nose with his paw. “I guess Uncle Wigwag played a different one this time.”

“Then we oughtn’t to play a mean joke on him, as long as he played such a nice candy joke on us,” said the little bear girl.

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Neddie. “We’ll tell him not to go get that letter.”

But, before they could do this, Tommie Kat saw the white envelope out on the sawdust-covered ice puddle.

“Oh, joy!” he cried again. “Maybe that’s more candy!” And, before either Beckie or Neddie could call to him, Tommie rushed out to get the make-believe letter. And as soon as he got on the ice, which he couldn’t see because of the sawdust on top, down he went ker-bunko! his feet sliding out from under him, and the candy scattering all over.

“Oh, dear!” cried Tommie Kat. “I’m all sawdust! And the nice candy! Oh, dear! It’s all lost!”

Neddie and Beckie rushed out from behind their tree.

“We didn’t mean that you should fall, Tommie,” said Neddie, as he helped the little kitten boy to stand up. “That was for a joke on Uncle Wigwag.”

“Well, I don’t call it a very nice joke,” said Tommie, rubbing his nose. “But, anyhow, I did find some candy. Help me pick it up.”

“I guess that was for us,” said Beckie. “It was one of Uncle Wigwag’s jokes!”

As the bear children and the kitten boy were picking up the scattered sweet stuff, out came Uncle Wigwag from behind his tree.

“Ha! Ha!” he cried to Neddie. “I guess I fooled you after all, didn’t I? And so you were going to fool me, too, eh? But Tommie got my joke instead. Oh, dear!” and he laughed so hard that he got the hiccoughs, and Aunt Piffy had to rush out of the cave-house to pat him on the back.

And then, all of a sudden, the bad bear, in whose nose Beckie had stuck the needle when she was making her doll’s dress, came rushing up, growling and wanting to bite some one. But Neddie Stubtail, brave little chap that he was, threw a hard lollypop at the bad bear, hitting him on his sore nose, making him cry, “Wow!” and run away off in the woods where he belonged.

Then the rest of the candy was picked up, and Beckie and Neddie said they were sorry they had tried to play the ice trick on Uncle Wigwag, and everything was all right.

And on the next page, if the penholder doesn’t let the ink bottle fall out of the window and make a black mark on the sidewalk, I’ll tell you about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe.

STORY XVI MR. WHITEWASH AND THE STOVE PIPE

“Oh, dear!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Where’s all that smoke coming from?”

“Oh, ker-choo! Wuzz! Fuzz!”

“Snicker-snacker-snookum!”

Every one seemed shouting at once.

There was great excitement in the cave-house, where the Stubtail family of bears lived. Neddie and Beckie, the two little bear children, had jumped out of bed and were choking and sneezing in the hall.

“Why, the house is filled with smoke!” cried out Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear, and she puffed so hard because her breath nearly got away from her, that she almost slid downstairs.

“Is the house on fire?” asked Papa Stubtail, as he looked around for a pail of water.

“Maybe this is one of Uncle Wigwag’s tricks,” said Beckie, as she wiped the tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t exactly crying, you understand, but you know smoke always makes tears come into your eyes.

“No, no! There’s no fire!” called Mamma Stubtail, from down in the kitchen. “I was getting breakfast when the stovepipe suddenly fell down. I guess you’ll have to come and fix it, Hiram,” she called to Mr. Stubtail. His first name was Hiram, you see.

“Let me do it,” said Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, and before any one else could hurry down to the kitchen Mr. Whitewash had slid down the stairs, and soon he had the stovepipe in place again, and the stove cooked things without smoking, and Mrs. Stubtail finished getting breakfast.

But that wasn’t all about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe. Just you wait until you get to the end of the story and you’ll see.

Soon breakfast was over, and Beckie and Neddie had started for school. Then Mr. Stubtail went to work, and Uncle Wigwag went over to call on Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, to talk about Christmas and Santa Claus.

That left Mr. Whitewash home with Mrs. Stubtail, who was washing the breakfast dishes.

“How did the stovepipe happen to come down?” asked Mr. Whitewash, curious-like.

“I guess it’s getting old and couldn’t stand up much longer,” answered the lady bear. “The first I knew it had tumbled over and the smoke poured out.”

“Yes, there was lots of smoke,” said Mr. Whitewash. “We all were frightened. I must take a look at that pipe,” which he did, putting on his glasses so he could see better.

“Ha!” he cried, after a bit. “I thought so. That stove needs a new pipe. I’ll go after it and fix it before the children come home. Then we won’t have any more trouble when you get up to get the breakfast, Mrs. Stubtail.”

“That will be very kind of you,” said the lady bear.

So off Mr. Whitewash went to get the stovepipe. And very nice he looked, too, walking along through the woods and over the fields, with his white fur all combed out like a French poodle’s when he’s had his bath. Mr. Whitewash was snow-white—and when he walked along sometimes his friends took him for a snowman, and threw snowballs at him. But Mr. Whitewash never minded that.

Well, he got to the stovepipe store all right, but the cow gentleman, who kept it, said:

“I am very sorry, Mr. Whitewash, but we are all out of stovepipe this morning. I expect some in at the end of the week.”

“But I cannot wait that long,” said the white polar bear gentleman. “Our old pipe may fall down any day, and fill the house with smoke again. Then the fire engines will come out and squirt water in our cave, and there’ll be a terrible time. I must have some stovepipe.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the cow gentleman. “I sold some pipe to Grandfather Goosey Gander, the duck gentleman, the other day, and after he used it awhile he said he wanted a different kind.

“So he took down that I had sold him, and got some different kind. The old pipe is out in his back yard now, and I think he would give it to you.”

“It will do no harm to ask, anyhow,” said Mr. Whitewash.

Over he went to the house of Grandfather Goosey Gander, and there, surely enough, was the pipe.

“Certainly you may have it,” said the duck gentleman. “I am glad to give it to you. But be careful, for it is full of black soot, and it may get on your white coat.”

“Oh, I can wrap it up in a paper,” said Mr. Whitewash, which he did. Then, taking care not to get the stovepipe, though it was wrapped up, against his snow-white fur, off Mr. Whitewash started for the cave-house, where he lived with the Stubtail family.

Did you ever put up a stovepipe? No, I guess you did not. Well, it is not easy work, as Mr. Whitewash soon found. Either the pipe he got from Grandfather Goosey Gander was too large to fit in the chimney hole or else the chimney hole was too small to let the pipe slide in. Anyhow, Mr. Whitewash tried and tried again, and once more, but the pipe would not fit.

“I guess I’ll have to get on a stepladder,” said the polar gentleman, breathing hard.

“Oh, how black your paws are!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat lady bear.

“Yes, it comes off the stovepipe,” said Mr. Whitewash. “Please bring the stepladder.”

So Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail went for the ladder, but in bringing it through the kitchen door it slipped and caught on Mrs. Stubtail’s paws, so that she fell down, and so did the fat lady; and Aunt Piffy lost her breath.

Aunt Piffy could hardly get her breath back again, either, but she caught it just as it was slipping out of the door and then she was all right again—at least for a while.

“Now I guess I’ll fix this pipe!” cried Mr. Whitewash, as he stood upon the ladder. Carefully he shoved the stovepipe into the chimney hole, but still it stuck.

“It must go in!” cried the polar bear gentleman, “or else we can’t have a fire in the stove to cook dinner.”

Then he gave a big push on the pipe. But something slipped. Part of what slipped was the stepladder and the other part of what slipped was Mr. Whitewash and the third part of it was the stovepipe.

Down they fell in a heap together on the floor.

“Oh!” screamed Aunt Piffy.

“Oh, me! Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Stubtail. “Shall I get the doctor?”

Mr. Whitewash didn’t say anything for a little while, and then he remarked:

“Please get me a dusting brush!”

And he certainly needed it, for the soot from the stovepipe had scattered all over him, and instead of being a pure white bear, he was speckled black and white now, like those dogs which always run along under a carriage.

But when Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail tried to brush the black soot off Mr. Whitewash, they found they were only making it worse. The brush scattered the black all over him instead of leaving it only in spots.

“I guess you had better not try,” said Mr. Whitewash. “I’ll take a bath after I get this pipe up.”

“Can you get it up?” asked Mrs. Stubtail.

“Of course I can,” said Mr. Whitewash.

So up on the stepladder the polar bear gentleman got again, and he tried to fix the stovepipe. He almost had it in the chimney hole, and he was just getting ready to holler “Hurray!” when, all of a sudden, there was a growling noise at the back door, and Mrs. Stubtail screamed:

“Oh, a lion! Here’s a lion coming after us!” and she and Aunt Piffy ran in the parlor and hid under the sofa.

“Bur-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion. “I’m a bad chap from the circus; and I’ve come after Beckie and Neddie!”

Then he roared again, and so loudly that he made the stepladder tremble. This shook it so that Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, fell down again. This time the stovepipe landed right on top of his head, like the tall silk hat Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, wears. And the soot from the stovepipe scattered all over Mr. Whitewash some more until he was as black as a piece of coal.

“Get out of here!” called Mr. Whitewash to the bad lion, and the lion was so scared at seeing a white bear suddenly turn black, and wear a stovepipe for a hat, that he ran away as fast as he could, taking his tufted tail with him. So he didn’t get Neddie or Beckie after all, and a little later Mr. Whitewash got the pipe all nicely fixed.

Then he took a bath, for, oh! he was so black! But soon he was as nice and white again as a French poodle. So there was no more trouble with smoke in the Stubtail cave-house, and when Beckie and Neddie came home from school they made molasses taffy on the stove.

So that’s all I can tell you now, but on the page after this, in case our cat doesn’t try to walk the telephone wire and fall off into the rose bush, I’ll tell you about Papa Stubtail in a trap.

STORY XVII PAPA STUBTAIL IN A TRAP

Now to-night I’m going to tell you a story about something sad that happened to Hiram Stubtail, the papa bear. And I will not make it any sadder than I can help. But still I have to tell things exactly as they happened, or it would not be fair, and we must always try to be fair and honest in this world, no matter what happens. Even when we’re sad we must try.

But I will say this, though there is a sad part to the story, there is also a glad part. And the glad part I’ll put in last, so that when you go to bed you will dream about that. I always like to have pleasant dreams; don’t you?

Once I dreamed I found a lot of money and to make sure I’d have it when I awakened I put it under my pillow. But when I woke up the money was all gone. Dream money always does that, you know. It disappears.

And once I dreamed I found a lollypop, and when I put my hand under my pillow there it was—all sticky! My little girl had put it there to keep safe for the night. So that part of my dream came true.

But I started to tell you about Papa Stubtail’s trouble, and I guess you don’t want to hear about my troubles.

Anyhow, one Saturday, when there was no school, Beckie and Neddie Stubtail, the two little bear children, started off to the woods to see if they could have any fun. It was quite cold, and it seemed as if it were going to snow, but they did not mind that, for they had on their warm fur coats.

“I know what let’s do!” exclaimed Beckie. “Let’s go over and call on Uncle Wiggily. You know since he found his fortune he has lots of money, and he might give us some to get a popcorn ball with.”

“All right, I’ll go with you,” agreed Neddie. So they went to the house of the old gentleman rabbit. They found him at home, and he was glad to see them. And, surely enough, he gave each of the bear children a penny to buy a popcorn ball. Bears are very fond of those sweet things, you know.

Well, while Neddie and Beckie were enjoying the popcorn balls, their papa had started to come home from where he worked in the bed factory, making nice fuzzy mattresses, fluffing them up with his sharp claws, for little bears to sleep on.

“I will go home a little early to-day,” said Mr. Stubtail, to himself, “and take Neddie and Beckie to a football game. They will enjoy that.”

Well, as he was walking along, thinking how funny it was for Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, to put up a stovepipe and get all black—as Mr. Stubtail was thinking of this, I say—all of a sudden he heard some one crying:

“Help! Help! Oh, will no one help me?”

“Ha! Who can that be?” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail, looking all around, and thinking maybe it might be one of his own children, little Neddie or Beckie, in trouble.

But he could see no one, though the voice still cried out:

“Help! Oh, please help me!”

“I would help you if I could see you,” said Mr. Stubtail, looking up and down and sideways and even around the corner. Still he could see no one, and then the voice said:

“Here I am, right down by this board fence!”

Then Mr. Stubtail looked more closely, and he saw, crouched on the ground, at the bottom of a board fence, Jollie Longtail, the little boy mousie.

“Oh, there you are!” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail. “But why are you crying, Jollie, and why don’t you run away?”

“I can’t run away,” answered the mousie boy, “because my long tail is fast through a knot hole in the fence, and that is the reason I am crying.”

“Your tail fast through a knot hole in the fence?” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail. “Why, how did that happen?”

“Well, you see,” explained Jollie. “I was creeping along here, looking for a piece of cheese, when my tail slipped through the hole. And, before I knew it, another boy mousie named Snippy-Snoopy, who doesn’t like me, came along and tied a knot in my tail so I couldn’t pull it back through the hole again. And here I am held fast. Will you please untie the knot in my tail? I can’t reach it.”

“Oh course I will!” exclaimed the bear gentleman, and very gently, so as not to hurt Jollie, he untied the knot in the mousie boy’s tail, so Jollie could run along home.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he called to Mr. Stubtail, most politely. “And if ever I can do you a favor I will!”

Then Mr. Stubtail hurried on home, thinking how nice it would be to take Beckie and Neddie to the football game. And I guess Mr. Stubtail was in such a hurry that he did not notice where he was going for, all of a sudden, he stepped into a steel trap.

“Snap!” it went shut, catching him on the paw. And, oh! how it did hurt.

“My goodness me! Oh, dear! This is terrible!” cried Mr. Stubtail. “I am caught!”

He tried to pull his paw out but the more he pulled the worse it hurt, and he had to stop. Then he tried to lift up the trap in his other paw, thinking maybe he could carry it to the blacksmith shop and have it filed off. But the trap was fast to a tree by a big chain and Mr. Stubtail could not get it loose. There he was caught fast.

This is the sad part of the story. I’ll make it just as short as I can and get to the glad part.

Well, poor Mr. Stubtail stood there in the trap not knowing what to do. He thought he would never see his home again, or his wife, or Neddie, or Beckie, nor yet Mr. Whitewash and Aunt Piffy and Uncle Wigwag.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mr. Stubtail. “What ever shall I do? Soon the hunter who put this trap here will come along and get me. Then it will be all up with Papa Stubtail.”

But just then he heard a little rustling in the dried leaves, and a tiny voice asked:

“Can I help you, Mr. Stubtail?”

The bear gentleman looked down and saw Jollie Longtail, the mousie boy, whose tail he had untied a little while ago.

“Oh, Jollie, it’s you, is it?” asked Mr. Stubtail. “No, I’m afraid you can’t help me. You see, this trap and chain are made of iron, and though you have very sharp little teeth to gnaw through wood, you can’t gnaw iron.”

“No,” said Jollie, “I can’t do that, but maybe I could go and get help for you.”

“So you can!” cried Mr. Stubtail, trying not to let the little mousie boy see how much pain he was in. “The very thing, Jollie. Run home and get Mr. Whitewash and Uncle Wigwag, and any one else you can, to come and get me out of this trap before the hunter comes.”

Away ran the mousie boy as fast as he could go. But it was a long way to the cave-house—not very far for a bear gentleman, perhaps, who can take long steps, but quite a distance for a little mouse chap.

“But I’ll get there in time!” cried Jollie. “I must save Mr. Stubtail, for he saved me. I’ll get there!”

Faster and faster he ran on. Once a bad fox tried to grab Jollie, but the mousie hid under a log until the fox had passed on. Again a big horned owl bird, with staring eyes, swooped down on him but Jollie dodged under a stone and the bird stubbed its beak, and didn’t get the mouse.

Then Jollie reached the cave-house and told what had happened to Mr. Stubtail.

Mrs. Stubtail was so excited that she nearly fainted and fell into a tub of water when she heard the news.

Aunt Piffy lost her breath completely this time, and it was several seconds before Jollie could run after it for her and bring it back.

“What!” cried Neddie, for he and Beckie had come home. “My papa in a trap!”

“Yes, and he needs help quickly!” cried Jollie.

“Then I’ll go get my uncle and Mr. Whitewash!” said Neddie. Off he rushed to find Uncle Wigwag and the polar bear gentleman. They also got Uncle Wiggily, and Gup, the kind, strong horse, and as many other animal gentlemen as they could, and back they hurried to where Mr. Stubtail was in the trap.

Together, with the help of a kind circus elephant, they pulled the trap open and the bear gentleman was free. Then they all hurried away before the hunter man, with his gun and dogs, could get them. Mr. Stubtail limped a little and was lame for some time, but that is better than staying forever in a trap.

When he got home his wife was out of the tub of water, and she and Aunt Piffy made some nice salve for Mr. Stubtail’s sore foot. Then they had a lovely supper with honey ice cream, and everybody was happy and they couldn’t do enough for Jollie Longtail. And this is the glad part of the story.

So this shows you that you should always untie a knot in a mousie’s tail if you can, for you never can tell when a mousie might help you.

And no more to-night, if you please, but very soon, if the milkman’s horse doesn’t come up on our front stoop and take our doormat to wipe his feet on, I’ll tell you about Mamma Stubtail’s honey cakes.

STORY XVIII MAMMA STUBTAIL’S HONEY CAKES