"We will all help," they promised.
Debby Field-Mouse looked sadly at the blackened ruins of her old home;
then taking Mother Graymouse's arm, she led little Wee to Uncle Squeaky's
home. The others went homeward, also, for it was getting late.
"A little music is like medicine to a sad mouse," said Uncle Squeaky after
supper. "Pa Field-Mouse seems down-hearted tonight. Trot along, laddies,
and put on your band uniforms that Ma Graymouse made last summer. We will
give Pa Field-Mouse a band concert."
Grand-daddy nodded his head.
"A grand idea, Hezekiah. Melodious music makes many melancholy mice merry.
Ha! ha! That's nearly as good as the jingle Robert Giant used to sing
about 'Picker Peter's peppered pickles.'"
Buster Graymouse hopped up and down in delight. He laughed until the tears
ran down his fat cheeks.
"What's the trouble, Buster Boy?" asked Grand-daddy. "Did you eat too much
supper?"
"No, Grand-daddy, but my little jacket is nearly bursting. Ah, that is too
funny! Guess I shall laugh all night."
"I fear you have outgrown your band suit, Buster," said Mother Graymouse.
"I shall have to give you less to eat.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43