Part 9

“Yes, that’s just what we’ll do,” answered another voice, and then Neddie tiptoed to the window, and looking out he saw two bad old lions that had run away from a circus. They were coming to get Neddie and Beckie.

“Oh, what shall I do?” thought Neddie.

“Those lions can easily break into our house. And if I call out to papa and mamma now the lions will hear me and they’ll jump in through the window and get me before I have a chance to run.

“Oh, what can I do? How can I scare those lions away?”

Just then Neddie heard a tiny mousie run up and down on the piano keys, making a little tinkling sound. This made the little bear boy think of something.

“I have it!” he whispered to himself in the darkness. “I’ll go in to the piano, and I’ll play the loudest bang-bang tune I know. Maybe the lions will think it’s thunder and lightning and guns shooting off, and they may be afraid and run away!”

So Neddie stole into the piano room and, all of a sudden, he banged his paws down on the loud keys as hard as he could. Then he played on the tinkle-tinkle keys, and again on the thunder notes. The lions, who were just going to break into the cave-house, heard the noise. They had never heard music in the dark night before, and they thought it was thunder and lightning.

“Oh! wow!” cried one lion, “we’re going to be caught in a storm! Come on home to our cave!”

“I’m with you!” growled the other lion, shivering, and away they ran, as frightened as could be, because Neddie remembered enough of his music lesson to make a thunder sound that he had practiced several times.

“And I’m never going to make a fuss about practice again,” he said. “Music is a good thing, after all. It scares lions away.”

Of course everybody in the cave-house woke up when Neddie played the piano, and when he told his papa and mamma why he did it, to drive away the lions, they said he had done just right.

Then everything got quiet, and Neddie finished his sleep in bed. And nothing more happened. So, pretty soon, if the trolley car doesn’t run off the track and bunk into the dishpan and make a big dent in it, I’ll tell you about Neddie and Beckie going to a party.

STORY XXIV NEDDIE AND BECKIE AT A PARTY

One day, when Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little boy and girl bear, came home from school, where they had said their lessons, each one getting a good mark for not whispering—one day, as they ran in the house to get a honey cake, they saw two little white envelopes lying on the dining-room table.

“Hello!” exclaimed Neddie, looking at them. “Here’s some post-office mail mamma has forgotten to open.”

“I’ll take it to her,” spoke Beckie, as she put her school books on the sideboard; “I think she’s in the kitchen. And while I’m out there I’ll get the honey cakes.”

“Good!” cried Neddie, as he wiggled his little tail. “And while you are about it, get as many honey cakes as you can, Beckie.”

“I will,” answered the little bear girl. Bears are very fond of sweet cakes, you know, especially if they have honey in them.

But when Beckie took up the tiny envelopes she gave a little squeal of surprise, just like a baby piggie under a gate, and she said:

“Why, Neddie! These are for us—they are letters, with our names on!”

“Are they?” asked Neddie. “Sure enough!” he cried as he looked. “I wonder who can be writing to us?”

“The best way would be to open them and find out,” suggested Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear, as she came up from down cellar, where she had gone to keep the apples from getting lonesome. Oh, Aunt Piffy was the kindest old lady bear you ever heard of. She was even kind to the apples and potatoes, and all things like that.

“Open your letters,” she said to Neddie and Beckie, “and then you can tell whom they’re from.”

Beckie began to tear open her envelope, but Neddie, after looking at his for a moment, said:

“Oh, ho! I know. This is a joke of Uncle Wigwag’s! I’m not going to let him fool us!”

Uncle Wigwag, you know, was an old gentleman bear who was always playing tricks, or jokes, on Neddie and Beckie, and sometimes on Aunt Piffy, too.

Just then in came Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear gentleman.

“Has anybody seen my cake of ice?” he cried. “I can’t find it. Some one must have my cake of ice!”

You see, being a white Polar bear, from the North Pole, Mr. Whitewash always used to sit on a cake of ice to keep cool, and he often mislaid it, or couldn’t find it, just as Grandma CluckCluck, the old lady hen, used to lose her glasses.

“Where is my cake of ice?” asked Mr. Whitewash, as he looked all around the bear cave-house.

“Oh, my goodness me sakes alive and some horseradish-mustard!” cried Aunt Piffy. “I think I put your cake of ice under the stove, to have it out of the way while I swept, and by this time——”

“Yes, by this time it must be all melted!” cried Mr. Whitewash, as he rushed out to the kitchen. And, as luck would have it, just then, through the door, came Mrs. Stubtail, the mamma bear, and in her hand she had a plate of honey cakes, that she had just baked. Of course Mr. Whitewash rushed right into her, but he didn’t mean to. Down went Mrs. Stubtail, down went the honey cakes—down went Mr. Whitewash, and such a mix-up you never saw in all your life!

But no one was hurt, I’m glad to say, though some of the honey cakes were broken. But that did not hurt them, and Neddie and Beckie picked them up and their mamma let them eat the pieces.

Then Mr. Whitewash managed to find his cake of ice under the stove. It was not quite all melted, but nearly. However, there was enough left for him to sit on and keep cool, until the ice man came with another cake.

Then when everything was quiet Neddie took up his envelope again, and said:

“Look, Mr. Whitewash, Uncle Wigwag is trying to play another joke on us.”

“No, I do not think so,” answered the white Polar bear gentleman. “He has not been in the house in some time. He and Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, are playing a game of hop butterscotch on the duck pond. I think your letters are no joke.”

“Then I’m going to open mine!” exclaimed Beckie, and when she had done so and had read the writing inside, she called out:

“Oh, Neddie! It’s an invitation to a party! Kittie Kat, the little pussy girl, is giving a party and she’s asked me to come to it. Is yours an invitation, too?”

“Why, yes, it is,” said Neddie slowly. “I guess I’ll go.”

“Go? Of course we’ll go!” cried Beckie. “I wonder what dress I’ll wear?”

“Oh, that’s just the way with girls!” cried Neddie. “As soon as they hear of a party they begin thinking of dress.”

“Pooh! I guess you boys are just as fussy about wearing a new necktie!” said Beckie, as she waggled her little stubby tail.

Well, to make a long story short, Neddie and Beckie got ready to go to the party Kittie Kat was to give. It took place three nights after the invitations came out, and Neddie and Beckie, the little bear children, each one dressed very nicely, went on and on through the woods and over the fields to the Kat home. It was not very far, and there was a bright moon shining in the sky, so they were not afraid.

And I just wish you could have been to the party, which Kittie Kat gave for all her animal children friends. No, on second thought, perhaps, it is just as well you were not there. The animal children wouldn’t know you, and they might have been frightened. But some day I’ll take you around myself to call on them, and after that they won’t mind you.

Anyhow, everybody whom Beckie and Neddie knew seemed to be at Kittie’s party. Her brothers, Tommy and Joie Kat, waited on the door and let in the guests as they came. Sammie and Susie Littletail, the rabbit children, were there, and Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys, and Lulu and Alice and Jimmie Wibblewobble, the ducks, and oh! everybody.

And such fun as they had! They played all sorts of games, such as little bear in the corner, hide the potato, lose the piano and find the molasses. And whoever found the molasses could have some of the sweet stuff on a spoon. Neddie and Beckie liked this game the best of all.

Then there was another game. Kittie Kat brought in an empty barrel, and in the bottom she put a box of candy.

“Now,” said Kittie, “whoever can reach over in and down and get that box of candy may have it. But, mind you, you’ve got to get it with your paws, you can’t use a stick or a hook to pull it up.”

Now the barrel was quite a deep one, and though all the animal boys and girls tried, they could not reach down and get the box of candy.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Beckie, “this is just the kind of a trick Uncle Wigwag would play!”

“Well, it’s only in fun,” said Kittie Kat, with a laugh, “and when you’ve all tried and can’t do it, I’ll turn the barrel upside down, the candy will drop out and we’ll all have some.”

“Wait! I haven’t finished yet!” called Neddie Stubtail. “I think I can claw up that candy!”

So he leaned over the edge of the barrel and stretched his paw down in for the candy. At first he could not get hold of the box. Farther and farther he leaned over the edge, and his hind paws came up off the floor.

“Look out, Neddie! You’ll fall in!” cried Beckie.

And that is just what Neddie did. All of a sudden into the barrel he went, head over paws and everything. “Ker-bunko!” went Neddie.

Everybody laughed when he went down inside the barrel, and when he bobbed up again, holding the candy in his paws, the animal children laughed more than ever. For Neddie was all covered over with white. He looked just like Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear gentleman, only smaller.

“Oh, Neddie, what happened to you,” asked Beckie, in surprise.

“I know!” exclaimed Kittie Kat. “That barrel had flour in it, and I didn’t dust it all out. The white flour is all over Neddie’s fur.”

And so it was, but no one minded.

“I don’t care. I got the candy anyhow,” said Neddie as he jumped out of the barrel. Then he gave all the animal children some of the sweet stuff, and when a few more games were played it was time to go home.

Neddie and Beckie went through the forest, and when they were almost at the bear cave, Beckie said:

“Some one is following us through the woods. Maybe it’s a bad lion.”

“Bur-r-r-r-r! I hope not!” cried Neddie. He turned around to look, and there it was, a bad circus lion. But an instant later the lion roared out:

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Whitewash, I didn’t know it was you!” and then the lion ran away. You see he looked at the white flour still on Neddie’s fur, and the bad lion thought he saw the big, strong Polar bear gentleman, while it was really only little Neddie. Then the bear children ran safely home.

So you see it was a good thing Neddie fell into the flour barrel and got all white after all, as it scared away the bad lion. And next, if the horsie doesn’t jump out of his picture frame on the wall, and run over my typewriter with the pony cart, I’ll tell you about Neddie in the snowbank.

STORY XXV NEDDIE IN A SNOWBANK

“Mamma,” said Neddie Stubtail, the little boy bear, as he got up from the supper table one evening, “may I go over to Sammie Littletail’s house to-night?”

“What for?” asked Mrs. Stubtail.

“Oh, we’re going to play with his magic lantern,” answered Neddie. “We’re going to show some funny pictures. All the boys are going to be there.”

“Oh, I wish I could go,” cried Beckie, the little girl bear, as she looked to see if her green hair ribbon had turned pink. But it had not, I am sorry to say.

“Pooh! You wouldn’t want to be the only girl there,” spoke Neddie.

“Oh, yes, I would,” exclaimed Beckie. “I like boys better than I do girls,” and she wasn’t at all bashful-like as she said that. Some girls are that way, you know.

“Well, maybe I’ll take you some other night,” said Neddie. “But may I go over this evening, mamma?”

“Well, I guess so,” answered the lady bear, slowly. “But first you must study your school lessons.”

“Oh, I’ll do that,” cried Neddie eagerly. “I’ll learn my reading lesson and my number work. I haven’t got much. I’ve just got to find out how many apples a man would have left if he bought two peaches for five cents and sold a bushel of potatoes for thirteen musk melons.”

“What a funny thing to want to know,” laughed Beckie. “Who asked you that question?”

“I don’t know,” replied Neddie. “It’s in the book, that’s all I know, and I’ve got to find the answer for myself. I’m not sure, but I think it’s a dozen honey cakes. Now please don’t bother me any more, Beckie, for I’m going to study.”

“Oh, I won’t bother you,” said the little girl bear. “I’ve got to study my own lessons. And after that I’m going to make a sky-blue-pink dress for my new doll, Lillian Cheesecake Clothes-basket.”

Neddie hurried with his studying so that he might go over to the house of Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, and see the magic lantern show.

A magic lantern, you know, is something like a moving picture show, only different. I guess you’ve seen one, so I don’t need to tell you about it.

Well, Neddie finished his home school-work, and I guess he did as you boys and girls may often have done—he skipped the hard parts and only took the easy questions, such as how to spell dog, and cat, and rat, and apple, and cake.

Then Neddie put on his hat and coat, and started to go over to Sammie Littletail’s house. It was not a great way there through the woods. The moon was shining brightly, just as it was the night before, when Neddie and Beckie went to Kittie Kat’s party, and Neddie fell into the flour barrel, as I had the pleasure of telling you in the story before this one.

When Neddie got to Sammie Littletail’s house he saw many of his little animal boy friends there, and Sammie was all ready to start the magic lantern show.

And, oh! what a nice show it was! A white sheet was tacked on the wall, and on that the pictures were shown. There was one picture of some little dogs in a country called Germany, walking around on their hind legs and eating pie with a spoon. Then there was another picture of a cow blowing her horns to make a nice tune so the grasshoppers could dance.

After that Sammie showed a picture of a big lion, roaring in his loudest voice, and, so as to make it seem more like a lion, Neddie, the little bear boy, growled as loudly as he could, stooping down under the table to hide himself.

And when that picture was shown, and when Neddie growled, Jilly Longtail, the little mousie boy, was so scared that he cried right out loud:

“I want to go home! I want to go home!”

Of course, every one laughed at him, but for all that poor little Jilly was quite frightened.

“Why, it’s only a picture,” said Neddie, as he crawled out from under the table, where he had been trying to roar like a lion. “Don’t cry, Jilly,” and he wiped away the tears of the little mousie boy on his soft fur.

Well, after that more pictures were shown, and then Mrs. Littletail, the rabbit lady, brought out some nice sweet cakes for the animal boys, and Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl, who was a sister to Sammie, as I guess you know, helped her mamma pass the cakes around to every one.

Well, everybody had a good time, and when it came the hour for the boys to go home, which was quite early, Sammie looked out of the window and exclaimed:

“Why, it’s snowing hard!”

“Snowing lard, did you say?” asked Neddie.

“No, not lard, and not butter either,” answered Sammie, with a laugh. “I said it was snowing hard—h-a-r-d—not soft, you know.”

“Oh, now I see!” cried Neddie. “Well, I’m glad it’s snowing, for we can have some fun, making snow men, and building forts and sliding down hill.”

“I’m glad, too!” exclaimed Tommie Kat, the kitten boy, “for it will soon be Christmas, and I always like snow at Christmas.”

Everybody else at the magic lantern show said the same thing, and soon they had started for their homes, because it kept snowing harder all the while, and they did not want to get snowed in.

Neddie Stubtail, the little bear boy, hurried along, kicking his paws through the snow, and thinking what fun he would have with his sister Beckie on their way to school next morning.

“I’ll get out my sled and pull Beckie,” thought Neddie. He would do this, you see, because Beckie could not come to the magic lantern show.

Well, Neddie was walking along, and he was putting out his tongue and letting the snowflakes melt on it, sort of tickling himself like, when, all of a sudden, Neddie heard a roaring sound, and a voice cried:

“Ah, ha! Now I’ve got you. You shan’t fool me this time by covering yourself with flour and making believe you’re a Polar bear. I’m after you!” And out from behind a snowbank rushed the bad old circus lion who had chased Neddie and Beckie the night before, when they were on their way home from the Kat party.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Neddie. “I guess I’d better run!” And run he did, through the snow, as fast as he could. But the lion ran, too, and he was almost catching up to Neddie, when, all at once, the little bear came to the edge of a hill.

He came to it so suddenly that he couldn’t stop himself, and the first thing the little bear knew he slid over the top of the hill. Down he fell, right into the middle of a big bank of snow, on the other side.

Now a snowbank isn’t hard like the iron bank in which you put your pennies, and so Neddie wasn’t hurt the least mite, I’m glad to say. Gracious, if he had fallen on a hard iron bank, I don’t know what might have happened. I guess maybe he’d have broken his toothache anyhow. I’m not saying for sure, but maybe.

Anyhow, Neddie fell “ker-flop!” into the soft snow, and the fluffy flakes closed up over his head, not leaving any hole to show where he had gone in. So that when the bad lion came to the edge of the hill and looked down, expecting to see the little bear boy, he couldn’t see him at all, at all. For Neddie was hidden by the kind snowbank.

“My, that’s rather queer,” said the lion, sort of roaring to himself and scratching his nose with his tail. “Very strange to be sure! I’m positive that bear boy is around here somewhere. I’ll just call and make him come out.”

So the lion called:

“Hey, you, Neddie Stubtail! Come out of where ever you are and let me bite you!”

But, of course, Neddie was too smart for that. He just stayed hiding under the snowbank, and finally the bad lion went away through the storm, growling to himself and wondering what had happened to Neddie.

But Neddie stayed in the snowbank for some time, and then finally the little bear chap began wondering how he was ever going to get out to go home. For the snowbank was very big.

And then a funny thing happened. Neddie’s warm breath melted a hole in the snowbank and the little bear boy could look out just as if he were looking through a window in a snow house. And in the shining moonlight, for it had stopped snowing, he saw, a little way off, the very cave in which he lived. Then he scratched hard with his paws and breathed hard with his warm breath and soon he was out of the snowbank. A little later he was safe in his own house. And oh my! how glad his mamma was to see him!

So he had quite an adventure, which goes to show that you can never tell what will happen when a lion chases you. And on the next page, if the popcorn doesn’t go bang up against the ceiling and knock the gas light down cellar, I’ll tell you about Neddie and Beckie helping Uncle Wigwag.

STORY XXVI HELPING UNCLE WIGWAG

One day, when Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little bear children, came home from school, they saw in the dining-room Uncle Wigwag, the funny old gentleman bear, who was always playing jokes. And Uncle Wigwag was laughing and chuckling, and giggling to himself, bobbing up and down, and tickling himself on his ribs to make himself laugh all the harder. And then he’d sit down in a chair and hold his sides with his paws because they ached so from his jollity.

“Why, what in the world can be the matter with Uncle Wigwag?” asked Beckie, dropping her books, and hurrying toward him.

“Maybe he’s sick,” suggested Neddie. “I guess I’d better run for Dr. Possum.”

“Sick! He isn’t sick at all!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear. “He’s just up to some of his tricks. If you ever joke with me again that way,” she went on, looking at Uncle Wigwag sort of sharp-like, “if ever you do that again, I’ll never give you any maple sugar on your honey cakes.”

“Oh, what did he do? Tell us!” cried Neddie and Beckie, while Uncle Wigwag laughed harder than ever.

“Why he came home from the five-and-ten-cent store—I guess it must have been,” explained Aunt Piffy, “and he gave me a box to open. He asked me if I didn’t want a new side hair comb, and of course I did. Well, when I opened the box out popped a green snake. I was so scared that I ran down cellar and hid, and I nearly lost my breath, and could hardly find it again. Oh, dear!” and Aunt Piffy fanned herself with her apron, she was so warm.

“Well,” said Uncle Wigwag, and he stopped laughing long enough to talk. “I really didn’t say there was a side comb in the box, Aunt Piffy. Besides, it wasn’t really a snake, you know,” he said, turning to Neddie and Beckie. “It was only a snake made of paper, with a spring inside like a jack-in-the-box.”

“Oh, I know,” said Neddie. “Where is it? Let me take it, and I’ll play a joke on some of the fellows at school.”

“Take it!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy. “I don’t want to see it again. And mind you!” she said to Uncle Wigwag, shaking her paw at him, “if you joke with me any more—no maple sugar on your fried eggs for breakfast.”

“Oh, I’ll be good,” said the old bear gentleman.

But it was very hard for Uncle Wigwag to stop playing jokes. A little later that afternoon he gave Beckie what she thought was a candy egg, and when she tried to bite into it, thinking it was nice and sweet, the egg popped open, and a little chicken inside, made of paper and feathers, crowed just like a rooster, and Beckie nearly jumped out of her hair ribbon, she was so surprised.

“Ha! Ha!” laughed Uncle Wigwag. “That was a good joke!”

“I don’t think so,” said Beckie, sort of sorrowful-like.

“Don’t you? Well, maybe it wasn’t,” spoke Uncle Wigwag. “Anyhow, here’s a penny for you to buy some real candy.” Uncle Wigwag was always that way—first he’d play a joke on you and then he’d do you a kindness. He was quite nice after all.

And a little later Neddie was looking for a pencil to write down some of his home school-work on his paper pad.

“Here’s a good pencil,” said Uncle Wigwag, taking one from his pocket. Neddie didn’t think anything, and started to write with the pencil. But, as soon as he did so, it bounced out of his paw and jumped around on the floor. For inside it was a jumping-jack. It was a trick pencil, you know, and Uncle Wigwag had played another joke.

“Excuse me while I laugh,” said the old gentleman bear. And Neddie laughed, too, for he rather liked the trick pencil.

And then Uncle Wigwag played another trick. Oh, but he was full of them that day! wasn’t he? I guess he must have been roaming around two or three five-and-ten-cent stores to find those jokes.

The last trick Uncle Wigwag played was on Mr. Whitewash, the white Polar bear gentleman. Mr. Whitewash used to have a cup of tea every afternoon, while he sat down to read in the paper about whether it was going to be cold or hot the next day.

Mr. Whitewash used to sit on a cake of ice, you know, because he liked everything cold, except his tea, and he did not like warm weather at all.