LIMPY-TOES IS LOST
"May Limpy-toes, Buster and I visit our cousins to-day, Mammy?" asked
Silver Ears one bright morning.
"If you will be careful and remember all I have told you. Be sure to come home before dark." The three little mice trotted bravely away. They went down their elevator, then crawled through a dark subway, until they came to the warm cellar where Uncle Squeaky and his family lived. Aunt and Uncle Squeaky had gone to the city, but all the cousins—Dot, Scamper, Wink and Wiggle, were at home. They were very glad to see them. "Mother left us a nice lunch and we will have a picnic together," planned Dot. Dot and Silver Ears looked almost exactly alike. A stranger could hardly have told them apart. Silver Ears had brought some squares of patch-work to sew. She was making a new quilt for Baby Squealer's cradle.
"Let's sew first," said Silver Ears, "and then we can have fun all the rest of the day."
"All right," agreed Dot. "Pa Squeaky always says, 'Work before play, my dears.' I will finish the silk ties I am hemming for Wink and Wiggle." So the pretty cousins sat down cosily together at their tasks.
Scamper invited Limpy-toes and Buster to the apple closet where they often played. Wink and Wiggle went along also.
"How nice the apples smell," said Buster.
"They taste good, too," answered Scamper. Then the five little mice each chose a red apple to nibble.
"Aren't we glad we came, Limpy-toes?" cried Buster.
"It is good fun," said Limpy-toes. "What is that big yellow thing,
Scamper?"
"That's our play-house," cried Wink and Wiggle.
"We made it out of a pumpkin," explained Scamper.
"Just see the windows and doors," said Wink.
"Come inside and see how nice it is," invited Wiggle.
They all took their apples and sat down inside the toy house.
"It is very cunning," said Limpy-toes.
"But it must have been hard work to chew it all out," added Buster.
"It did take a long time," admitted Scamper cheerily, "but it was great sport. We like to make our own playthings."
Then Buster and Limpy-toes had to tell the cousins all about the wonderful toys in the Giant's play-room. It was a long story. By the time it was finished, Dot called them to a nice lunch.
In the afternoon, Uncle Squeaky and his wife returned from the city.
"Bless my stars!" cried Uncle Squeaky, "if here aren't three of the
Graymouse kiddies! Glad to see you, my dears."
Aunt Squeaky asked about Mother Graymouse's health and wanted to know all about Baby Squealer and the twins. Then she hurried away to change her best gown for a house dress and put away all the bundles.
Uncle Squeaky took down his fiddle and began to play a jig. "Now,
Buster Boy, sing us a song?" he coaxed.
Buster loved to sing; so he made no excuses. He folded his paws just as Mammy had taught him and sang:
"Cheese oh! Merry oh!"
while Uncle Squeaky played softly on the fiddle.
"Sing your newest song, Buster," reminded Silver Ears.
Uncle Squeaky was delighted with "Traps are our enemies."
He made them all stand up in a row and sing it over and over until they knew it by heart.
"A very good lesson in rhyme," said Aunt Squeaky wagging her head approvingly.
It seemed a very short time before it began to grow dark.
"We must start home now," said Silver Ears. "We promised Mammy."
"Good mice always keep their promises," said Uncle Squeaky as he filled their pockets with dried pumpkin seeds and raisins.
When Mother Graymouse, with Squealer and the twins, returned from making Granny Whiskers an afternoon call, she found Silver Ears and Buster setting the tea-table.
"Where is Limpy-toes?" she asked.
"He was here only a few minutes ago," said Silver Ears.
Supper was ready and still Limpy-toes was missing. Mother Graymouse grew uneasy.
"Are you sure he came all the way home from Uncle Squeaky's with you,
Silvy?"
"Quite sure, Mammy. He brought this bag of crullers which Aunt
Squeaky sent to you."
Mother Graymouse became very anxious when supper was over and still Limpy-toes did not come. She stole into the play-room and looked in every corner. Then bidding Silver Ears rock Squealer to sleep, she hastened down to tell Grand-daddy Whiskers her trouble.
"I fear that some dreadful accident has befallen my poor, dear
Limpy-toes," she sobbed.
"Now, Daughter Betsey, don't you worry," was Grand-daddy's cheerful reply. "Limpy-toes is a wise lad and knows well how to look out for himself. I will light my lantern, however, and go out. Perhaps I may meet him."
Mother Graymouse went home somewhat comforted and laden with a pocketful of good things which Granny sent the children from the pantry shelves.
Grand-daddy Whiskers and Uncle Squeaky searched all that evening, flashing their lanterns into every dark corner, but at midnight they had to tell Mother Graymouse that no trace of Limpy-toes was to be found.
Poor Mammy cried and cried. All night long she wondered which enemy had captured her oldest son. Could it be old Thomas Cat? Was he caught in some dreadful trap, or had he eaten poison like poor Daddy? At last she fell asleep.
[Ilustration: My poor, dear Limpy-toes, she sobbed.]
In the morning as she prepared the little bowls of oat-meal, she kept wiping her eyes.
"How shall I ever tell the poor dears that their brother is dead?" she sighed.
At last, Silver Ears, Buster, Tiny and Teenty were seated around the breakfast-table sipping their hot porridge. Mother Graymouse was dressing Baby Squealer who was howling, as usual.
"Where is Limpy-toes, Mammy?" asked Tiny. "Didn't he come home?"
"Sniff! sniff!" went Mother Graymouse. "My poor children, I fear you will never see your dear brother again."
While she was speaking, there came the far-off patter, patter, scratch, scratch, of somebody climbing up to the attic.
"Grand-daddy Whiskers," guessed Mother Graymouse, "or it may be Uncle
Squeaky bringing us bad news."
And then, up through the hole in the attic floor, who should appear but Limpy-toes himself!
"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer as his mother dropped him in a wriggling heap among the cradle pillows and ran to hug Limpy-toes.
"Tell us all about it?" they begged, as Limpy-toes drew up his little stool and asked for his bowl of oat-meal porridge.
"I had quite an adventure," laughed Limpy-toes. "It wasn't so bad, only I knew Mammy would worry. I slipped into the play-room while Silvy got supper, hoping to find something good to eat. That Maid Norah was there and she tried to hit me with an old shoe. I couldn't get back through our holes, but had to run down-stairs. I dodged old Thomas Cat and ran and ran. Ruth Giant opened the door and I whisked out onto the piazza.
"At first I thought of going through the subway down to Uncle Squeaky's. But I remembered that our meal-bag was empty. The barn was near and I ran out to fill my pockets in the meal-chest."
"While I was working, Mr. Giant came into the barn and got a dishful of meal for his chickens. It was quite dark and he did not see me. But all at once, down slammed the lid, and there I was, a prisoner for the night! Well, the meal made a soft bed and I slept nicely. This morning, Norah opened the grain chest and I sprang out so swiftly that she hardly saw me. I had a narrow escape from old Thomas Cat, but here I am, safe and sound. Please, Mammy, may I have some more porridge?"