Part 1

UNCLE WIGGILY'S STORY BOOK

+By+

HOWARD R. GARIS

AUTHOR OF

Uncle Wiggily's Airship; Uncle Wiggily's Automobile; Uncle Wiggily on the Farm; Uncle Wiggily's Travels

+Platt & Munk+, _Publishers_

NEW YORK

_UNCLE WIGGILY'S STORY BOOK_

Copyright MCMXXI and MCMXXXIX

+By+

+Platt & Munk+

CONTENTS

STORY

I. +Uncle Wiggily's Toothache+

II. +Uncle Wiggily and the Freckled Girl+

III. +Uncle Wiggily and the Mud Puddle+

IV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Bad Boy+

V. +Uncle Wiggily and the Good Boy+

VI. +Uncle Wiggily's Valentine+

VII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Bad Dog+

VIII. +Uncle Wiggily and Puss in Boots+

IX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Lost Boy+

X. +Uncle Wiggily and Stubby Toes+

XI. +Uncle Wiggily's Christmas+

XII. +Uncle Wiggily's Fourth of July+

XIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Skates+

XIV. +Uncle Wiggily Goes Coasting+

XV. +Uncle Wiggily's Picnic+

XVI. +Uncle Wiggily's Rain Storm+

XVII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Mumps+

XVIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Measles+

XIX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Chicken-Pox+

XX. +Uncle Wiggily's Hallowe'en+

XXI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Poor Dog+

XXII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Rich Cat+

XXIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Horse+

XXIV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Cow+

XXV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Camping Boys+

XXVI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Birthday Cake+

XXVII. +Uncle Wiggily and the New Year's Horn+

XXVIII. +Uncle Wiggily's Thanksgiving+

XXIX. +Uncle Wiggily at the Circus+

XXX. +Uncle Wiggily and the Lion+

XXXI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Tiger+

XXXII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Elephant+

XXXIII. +Uncle Wiggily and the Camel+

XXXIV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Wild Rabbit+

XXXV. +Uncle Wiggily and the Tame Squirrel+

XXXVI. +Uncle Wiggily and the Wolf+

UNCLE WIGGILY'S GREETING

+Dear Children+:

This is a quite different book from any others you may have read about me. In this volume I have some adventures with real children, like yourselves, as well as with my animal friends.

These stories tell of the joyous, funny, exciting and everyday adventures that happen to you girls and boys. There is the story about a toothache, which you may read, or have read to you, when you want to forget the pain. There is a story of a good boy and a freckled girl. And there is a story about a bad boy, but not everyone is allowed to read that.

There is a story for nearly every occasion in the life of a little boy or girl; about the joys of Christmas, of a birthday; about different animals, about getting lost, and one about falling in a mud puddle. And there are stories about having the measles and mumps, and getting over them.

I hope you will like this book as well as you seem to have cared for the other volumes about me. And you will find some beautiful pictures in this book.

Now, as Nurse Jane is calling me, I shall have to hop along. But I hope you will enjoy these stories.

Your friend, +Uncle Wiggily Longears+.

Uncle Wiggily's Story Book

STORY I

UNCLE WIGGILY'S TOOTHACHE

Once upon a time there was a boy who had the toothache. It was not a very large tooth that pained him, and, really, it was quite surprising how such a very large ache got into such a small tooth. At least that is what the boy thought.

"But I'm not going to the dentist and let him pull it!" cried the boy, holding his hand over his mouth. "And I'm not going to let anybody in this house pull it, either! So there!" He ran and hid himself in a corner. Girls aren't that way when they have the toothache--only boys.

"Perhaps the tooth will not need pulling," said Mother, as she looked at the boy and saw how much pain he had.

"That's so!" exclaimed Grandma, who was trying to think of some way in which to help the boy. "Maybe the dentist can make a little hole in your tooth, Sonny, and fill the hole with cement, as the man filled the hole in our sidewalk, and then all your pain will stop."

"No, I'm not going to the dentist! I'm not going, I tell you!" cried Sonny. And I think he stamped his foot on the floor, the least little bit. It may have been that he saw a tack sticking up, and wanted to hammer it down with his shoe. But I am afraid it was a stamp of his foot; and afterward that boy was sorry.

But, anyhow, his tooth kept on aching, and it was the kind called "jumping," for it was worse at one time than another. Sometimes the boy thought the pain jumped from one side of his tongue to the other side, and again it seemed that it leaped away up to the roof of his mouth.

The toothache even seemed to turn somersaults and peppersaults, and once it appeared to jump over backward. But it never completely jumped away, which is what the boy wished it would do.

"You'd better let me take you to the dentist's," said his Mother. "He'll either fix the tooth so it won't ache any more, or he'll take it out, so a new tooth will grow in. And, really, the pain the dentist may cause will only be a little one, and it will be all over in a moment. While your tooth may ache all night."

"No, I'm not going to the dentist! I'm not going!" cried Sonny boy, and then again he acted just as if there were a tack in the carpet that needed hammering down with his foot.

Now it was about this time that Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, was hopping from his hollow stump bungalow in the woods to go look for an adventure. But, as yet, Uncle Wiggily knew nothing about the boy with the toothache. That came a little later.

"Are you going to be gone long?" asked Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, of the bunny gentleman.

"Only just long enough to have a nice adventure," answered Mr. Longears, and away he hopped on his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, with his pink, twinkling nose held in front of him like the headlight on a choo-choo train.

Now, as it happened, Uncle Wiggily's hollow stump bungalow was not far from the house where the Toothache Boy lived, though the boy had never seen the rabbit's home. He had often wandered in the woods, almost in front of the bunny's bungalow, but, not having the proper sort of eyes, the boy had never seen Uncle Wiggily. It needs very sharp eyes to see the creatures of the woods and fields, and to find the little houses in which they live.

At any rate the boy had never noticed Uncle Wiggily, though the bunny gentleman had often seen the boy. Many a time when you go through the woods the animal folk look out at and see you, when you never even know they are there.

And pretty soon Uncle Wiggily hopped right past the house where the Toothache Boy lived. And just then, for about the tenth time, Mother was saying:

"You had better let me take you to the dentist and have that toothache stopped, Sonny."

"No! No! I don't want to! I--I'm a--a--I guess it will stop itself," said the boy, hopeful like.

Uncle Wiggily, hiding in the bushes in front of the boy's house, sat up on his hind legs and twinkled his pink nose. By a strange and wonderful new power which he had, the bunny gentleman could hear and understand boy and girl talk, though he could not speak it himself. So it was no trouble at all for Uncle Wiggily to know what that boy was saying.

"He's afraid; that's what the boy is," said the bunny uncle to himself, leaning on his red, white and blue striped crutch. "He's afraid to go to the dentist and have that tooth filled, or pulled. Now that's very silly of him, for the dentist will not hurt him much, and will soon stop the ache. I wonder how I can make that boy believe this? His mother and grandmother can't seem to."

For Mr. Longears heard Mother and Grandma trying to get that Toothache Boy to let them take him to the dentist. But the boy only shook his head, and made believe hammer tacks in the carpet with his foot, and he held his hand over his mouth. But, all the while, the ache kept aching achier and achier and jumping, leaping, tumbling, twisting, turning and flip-flopping--almost like a clown in the circus.

"No! No! I'm not going to the dentist!" cried the boy.

Then Uncle Wiggily had an idea. He could look in through the window of the house and see the boy. In front of the window was a grassy place, near the edge of the wood, and close by was an old stump, shaped almost like the easy chair in a dentist's office.

"I know what I'll do," said Uncle Wiggily. "I'll make believe I have the toothache. I'll go get Dr. Possum and I'll sit down in this stump chair. Then I'll tell Dr. Possum to make believe pull out one of my teeth."

"I s'pose if Nurse Jane were here she might ask what good that would do?" thought Uncle Wiggily. "But I think it will do a lot of good. If that boy sees me, a rabbit gentleman, having a tooth pulled, which is what he will think he sees, it may make him brave enough to go to the dentist's. I'll try it."

Away hopped Uncle Wiggily to Dr. Possum's office.

"What's the matter? Rheumatism again?" asked the animal doctor.

"No, but I want you to come over and pull a tooth for me," said Uncle Wiggily, blinking one eye, and twinkling his pink nose surreptitious-like.

"Pull a tooth! Why, your teeth are all right!" cried Dr. Possum.

"It's to give a little lesson to a boy," whispered the bunny, and then Dr. Possum blinked one eye, in understanding fashion.

A little later Uncle Wiggily sat himself down on the old stump that looked like a chair, and Dr. Possum stood over him.

"Open your mouth and show me which tooth it is that hurts," said Dr. Possum, just like a dentist.

"All right," answered Uncle Wiggily, and, from the corner of his left eye the bunny gentleman could see the Toothache Boy at the window looking out. The boy saw the rabbit and Dr. Possum at the old stump, and he saw Mr. Longears open his mouth and point with his paw to a tooth.

"Oh, Mother!" cried the boy, very much excited. "Look! There's a funny rabbit, all dressed up in a tall silk hat, having a tooth pulled. Grandma, look!"

"Well, I do declare!" murmured the old lady. "Isn't that perfectly wonderful! I didn't know that animals ever had the toothache!"

"Oh, I s'pose they do, once in a while," said the Toothache Boy's mother. "But see how brave that rabbit gentleman is! Not to mind having the animal dentist stop his ache! Just fancy!"

Neither Grandma nor Mother said anything to Sonny Boy. All three of them just stood at the window, and watched Uncle Wiggily and Dr. Possum. And, as they looked, Dr. Possum put a little shiny thing, like a buttonhook, in the bunny gentleman's mouth. He gave a sudden little pull and, a moment later, held up something which sparkled in the sun. It was only a bit of glass, which Uncle Wiggily had held in his paw ready for this part in the little play, but it looked like a tooth.

"Well, I declare!" laughed Grandma. "The bunny had his tooth pulled!"

"And he doesn't seem to mind it at all," added Mother.

Surely enough, Uncle Wiggily hopped off the make-believe dentist-stump, and with his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, began to dance a little jiggity-jig with Dr. Possum.

"This dance is to show that it doesn't hurt even to have a tooth pulled; much less to have one filled," said the bunny.

"I understand!" laughed Dr. Possum. And as he and Uncle Wiggily danced, they looked, out of the corners of their eyes, and saw the Toothache Boy standing at the window watching them.

"Well, I never, in all my born days, saw a sight like that!" exclaimed Grandma.

"Nor I," said Mother. "Isn't it wonderful!"

Sonny Boy took his hand down from his mouth.

"I--I guess, Mother," he said, as he saw Uncle Wiggily jump over his crutch in a most happy fashion, "I guess I'll go to the dentist, and have him stop my toothache!"

"Hurray!" softly cried Uncle Wiggily, who heard what the boy said. "This is just what I wanted to happen, Dr. Possum! Our little lesson is over. Now we may go!"

Away hopped the bunny, to tell Nurse Jane about the strange adventure, and Dr. Possum, with his bag of powders and pills on his tail, where he always carried it, shuffled back to his office.

Sonny Boy went to the dentist's, and soon his tooth was fixed so it would not ache again. He hardly felt at all what the dentist did to him.

"I--I didn't know how easy it was 'till I saw the rabbit have his tooth pulled," said the boy to the dentist.

"Hum," said the dentist, noncommittal-like, "some rabbits are very funny!"

And if the puppy dog doesn't waggle his tail so hard that he knocks over the milk bottle when it's trying to slide down the doormat, I shall have the pleasure, next, of telling you the story of Uncle Wiggily and the freckled girl.

STORY II

UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE FRECKLED GIRL

Uncle Wiggily was hopping through the woods one summer day, when, as he happened to stop to get a drink of some water that the rain-clouds had dropped in the cup of a Jack-in-the-pulpit flower, the bunny gentleman heard a girl saying:

"Oh, I wish I could get them off! I wish I could scrub them off with sandpaper, or something like that! I've tried lemon juice and vinegar, but they won't go. And oh, they make me so homely!"

Uncle Wiggily stopped suddenly and rubbed the end of his pink, twinkling nose with the brim of his tall, silk hat.

"This is very queer," said the bunny uncle to himself. "I wonder what is it she has tried to take off with lemon juice? She seems very unhappy, this little girl does."

The bunny uncle looked through the trees and, seated on a green, mossy stump, he saw a girl about ten or twelve years old. She held a looking-glass in her hand, and as she glanced at her likeness in the mirror she kept saying:

"How can I get them off? How can I make them disappear so I will be beautiful? Oh, how I hate them!"

"What in the world can be the matter?" thought Uncle Wiggily to himself. For, as I have told you, the bunny gentleman was now able to hear and understand the talk of girls and boys, though he could not himself speak that language.

He hopped a little closer to the unhappy girl on the green, mossy stump, but the bunny stepped so softly on the leaf carpet of the forest that scarcely a sound did he make, and the girl with the mirror never heard him.

"I wonder if I said a little verse, such as I have read in fairy books, whether they would go away?" murmured the girl. "I've tried everything but that. I'll do it--I'll say a magical verse! But I must make up one, for I never have read of the kind I want in any book."

She seemed to be thinking deeply for a moment and then, shutting her eyes, and looking up at the sun which was shining through the trees of the wood, the girl recited this little verse:

"Sun, sun, who made them come, Make them go away. Then I'll be like other girls, Happy all the day!"

"This is like a puzzle, or a riddle," whispered Uncle Wiggily to himself, as he kept out of sight behind a bush near the stump. "What is it she wants the sun to make go away? It can't be rain, or storm clouds, for the sky is as blue as a baby's eyes. I wonder what it is?"

Then, as the girl took up the mirror again, and looked in it, Uncle Wiggily saw the reflection of her face.

It was covered with dear, little brown freckles!

"Ho! Ho!" softly crooned Uncle Wiggily to himself. "Now I understand. This girl is unhappy because she is freckled. She thinks she doesn't look pretty with them! Why, if she only knew it, those freckles show how strong and healthy she is. They show that she has played out in the fresh air and sunshine, and that she will live to be happy a long, long while. Freckles! Why, she ought to be glad she has them, instead of sorry!"

But the girl on the stump kept her eyes shut, clenching the mirror in her hand and as she held her face up to the sun she recited another verse of what she thought was a mystic charm.

This is what she said:

"Freckles, freckles, go away! Don't come back any other day. Make my face most fair to see, Then how happy I will be!"

Slowly, as Uncle Wiggily watched, hidden as he was behind the bush, the girl opened her eyes and held up the looking-glass. Over her shoulder the bunny gentleman could still see the freckles in the glass; the dear, brown, honest, healthy freckles. But when the girl saw them she dropped the mirror, hid her face in her hands and cried:

"Oh, they didn't go 'way! They didn't go 'way! Now I never can be beautiful!"

Uncle Wiggily twinkled his pink nose thoughtfully.

"This is too bad!" said the bunny gentleman. "I wonder how I can help that girl?" For, since he had helped the Toothache Boy by letting Dr. Possum pretend to pull an aching tooth, the bunny gentleman wanted do other favors for the children who loved him.

"I'd like to make that girl happy, even with her freckles," said the bunny. "I'll hop off through the woods, and perhaps I may meet some of my animal friends who will show me a way."

The bunny gentleman looked kindly at the girl on the stump. She was sobbing, and did not see him, or hear him, as she murmured over and over again:

"I don't like freckles! I hate them!"

Away through the woods hopped Uncle Wiggily. He had not gone very far before he heard a bird singing a beautiful song. Oh, so cheerful it was, and happy--that song!

"Good morning, Mr. Bird!" greeted Uncle Wiggily, for you know it is the father bird who sings the sweetest song. The mother bird is so busy, I suppose, that she has little time to sing. "You are very happy this morning," the rabbit said to the bird.

"Why, yes, Uncle Wiggily, I am very happy," answered Mr. Bird, "and so is my wife. She is up there on the nest, but she told me to come down here and sing a happy song."

"Why?" asked the bunny.

"Because we are going to have some little birds," was the answer. "There are some eggs in our nest, and my mate is sitting on them to keep them warm. Soon some little birds will come out, and I will sing a still happier song."

"That's fine," said Uncle Wiggily, thinking of the unhappy freckled girl on the stump. "May I see the eggs in your nest?"

"Of course," answered the father-singer. "Our nest is in a low bush, but it is well hidden. Here, I'll show you. Mrs. Bird will not mind if you look."

The father bird fluttered to the nest, and Mrs. Bird raised her fluffy feathers to show Uncle Wiggily some beautiful blue eggs.

"Why--why, they're _freckled_!" exclaimed the bunny gentleman. "Aren't you birds sad because you have freckled eggs? Why, your little birds will be freckled, too! And, if they are girl birds they will cry!"

"Why?" asked Mr. Bird in surprise. "Why will our girl birdies cry?"

"Because they'll be _freckled_," answered the bunny. "I just saw a girl in the woods, crying to break her heart because she is freckled!"

"Nonsense!" chirped Mrs. Bird. "In the first place these are not freckles on my eggs, though they look so. My eggs are spotted, or mottled, and they would not be half so pretty if they were not colored that way. Besides, being spotted as they are, makes them not so easily seen in the nest. And, when I fly away to get food, bad snakes or cats can not so easily see my eggs to eat them. I just love my _freckled_ eggs, as you call them!" laughed Mrs. Bird.

"Well, they are pretty," admitted Uncle Wiggily. "But will your little birds be speckled, too?"

"Not at all," sang Mr. Bird. "Say, Uncle Wiggily!" he whistled, "if we could get that girl here so she could see our spotted eggs, and know how beautiful they are, even if they are what she would call 'freckled'; wouldn't that make her happier?"

"Perhaps it would," said the bunny rabbit. "I never thought of that. I'll try it! You will not be afraid to let her see your eggs, will you?" he asked.

"No; for girls are not like some boys--they don't rob the nests of birds," replied the mother of the speckled eggs. "Bring the unhappy girl here, and Mr. Bird and I will hide in the bushes while she peeps into our nest."

"I will!" said Uncle Wiggily.

Away he hopped through the woods, and soon he came to the place where the freckled girl was still sobbing on the stump.

"Now how can I get her to follow me through the woods, to see the nest, when I can't talk to her?" whispered Uncle Wiggily.

Then he thought of a plan.

"I'll toss a little piece of tree-bark at her," chuckled the bunny. "That will make her look up, and when she sees me I'll hop off a little way. She'll follow, thinking she can catch me. But I'll keep ahead of her and so lead her to the woods. I want to make her happy!"

The bunny tossed a bit of bark, hitting the girl on her head. She looked around, and then she saw Uncle Wiggily, all dressed up as he was with his tall silk hat and his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch.

"Oh, what a funny rabbit!" exclaimed the girl, smiling through her tears, and forgetting her freckles, for a while at least. "I wonder if I can catch you?" she said.

"Well, not if I know it," whispered Uncle Wiggily to himself, for he knew what the girl had said. "But I'll let you think you can," the bunny chuckled to himself.

He hopped on a little farther, and the girl followed. But just as she thought she was going to put her hands on the rabbit, Uncle Wiggily skipped along, and she missed him. But still she followed on, and soon Uncle Wiggily had led her to the bushes where the birds had built their nest.

Mr. and Mrs. Bird were watching, and when they saw Uncle Wiggily and the freckled girl, Mr. Bird began to sing. He sang of blue skies, or rippling waters of sunshine and sweet breezes scented with apple blossoms.

"Oh, what a lovely song!" murmured the freckled girl. "Some birds must live here. I wonder if I could see their nest and eggs? I wouldn't hurt them for the world!" she said softly.

Uncle Wiggily shrank back out of sight. The girl looked around for the singing birds, and just then the wind blew aside some leaves and she saw the nest. But she saw more than the nest, for she saw the eggs that were to be hatched into little birds. And, more than this; the girl saw that the eggs were spotted or mottled--freckled as she was herself!

"Oh! Oh!" murmured the girl, clasping her hands as she looked down at the speckled eggs in the nest. "They have brown spots on, just like my face. They are _freckled eggs_--but, oh, how pretty they are! I never knew that anything freckled could be beautiful! I never knew! Oh, how wonderful!"

As she stood looking at the eggs, Mr. Bird sang again, a sweeter song than before, and the wind blew softly on the freckled face of the unhappy girl--no, not unhappy now, for she smiled, and there were no more tears in her eyes.

"Oh, how glad I am that the funny rabbit led me to the nest of freckled eggs!" said the girl. "I wonder where he is?"

She looked around, but Uncle Wiggily had hopped away. He had done all that was needed of him.

The mother bird softly fluttered down into her nest, covering the beautiful mottled eggs with her downy wings. She was not afraid of the girl. The girl reached out her hand and timidly stroked the mother bird. Then she gently touched her own freckled cheeks.

"I'm never going to care any more," she whispered. "I did not know that freckles could be so pretty. I'm glad I got 'em!"

The freckled girl walked away, leaving the mother bird on the nest, while the father of the speckled eggs, that soon would be little birds, sang his song of joy. The freckled girl, with a glad smile on her face, went back to the stump, and, without looking into the mirror, she tossed the bit of looking-glass into a deep spring.

"I don't need you any more," she said, as the glass went sailing through the air. "I know, now, that freckles can be beautiful!"

And if the pussy cat doesn't think the automobile tire is a bologna sausage, and try to nibble a piece out to make a sandwich for the rag doll's picnic, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the mud puddle.

STORY III

UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE MUD PUDDLE

Did you ever fall down in a mud puddle? Perhaps this may have happened to you when you were barefooted, with old clothes on, so that it did not much matter whether you splashed them or not.

But that isn't what I mean.