"Fetch that creoline bottle, Silvy," repeated Grand-daddy sternly.
"Hold your breath, now"
They had good fun picking the brown nuts from the soft, silky linings of
the burrs.
Sure enough, next morning poor Buster could hardly see out of his eyes.
"And so," explained Uncle Squeaky, "he went on a hop, skip and jump like
this"
He folded his paws as Mammy had taught him long ago, tossed his head high
and sang merrily.
GRAND-DADDY WHISKERS M.D.
CHAPTER I
A MESSAGE FROM THE WOODFOLK
Nimble-toes Field-mouse trotted briskly along the dark subway and up the
steep attic stairway in Mr. Giant's house. He had travelled a long way
from his woodland home and it was getting late. The door of the cosy attic
where Cousin Graymouse lived was ajar. Nimble-toes paused to get his
breath and peep in at the busy, happy family.
Mother Graymouse sat in her rocking-chair singing to little Squealer.
Tiny, Teenty and Buster Graymouse were playing upon the floor near by with
their cousins, Wink and Wiggle Squeaky. Aunt Squeaky and Uncle Hezekiah
were busy around the stove. Grand-daddy and Granny Whiskers sat in the
chimney corner waiting patiently for their supper.
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