Five Mice in a Mouse-trap Part 13

Our Puffy has a little bird, And Peepsy is his name, And now I'll sing a little song, To celebrate the same.

He's yellow all from head to foot, And he is very sweet, And very little trouble, for He never wants to eat.

He never asks for water clear, He never chirps for seed, For cracker or for cuttlefish, For sugar or chickweed.

"Oh what a perfect pet!" you cry, But there's one little thing, One drawback to the bonny bird, Our Peepsy cannot sing.

He chirps no song at dawn or eve, He makes no merry din, But this, one cannot wonder at, For Peepsy's made of tin.

"Isn't it lovely?" said Puff, drawing a long breath. "It prescribes him perfectly. Doesn't it, you dear Peepsy?" she added, holding up a blue cage about two inches square, in which hung the precious bird. "And did you make it almost all, Fluffy?"

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"Well--no!" said Fluff, considering, "not almost _all_, but almost a good deal of it. I said all the things I wanted to say, and Uncle Jack changed some of the words, and put rhymes into them. I think it _is_ nice," she continued, "and I am glad you like it, Puff. But now we must make haste and dress all the dolls in their best clothes, for Nibble and Brighteyes promised to give Peepsy a birthday party, you know, and they are getting it ready in the garden, under the cotton-wool tree."

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"The cotton-wool tree!" said I to myself. "I think I must look and see what that means." So I tipped my gla.s.s just a hair's breadth, towards the lower part of the garden. There, sure enough, were Nibble and Brighteyes, hard at work amid the new-mown hay. They were making it into five hay-c.o.c.ks, which were arranged in a circle under a huge balm-of-Gilead tree. The ground was covered with the pods which had fallen from the tree, all filled with white soft silk cotton, and I knew this must be the cotton-wool tree. Grim was tied to another tree hard by, a position which he did not enjoy, to judge from his impatient jumping and barking.

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"Yes, Grim, I know it isn't at all nice to be tied up!" said Nibble, in reply to a long howl of protest from the dog. "But we cannot have you jumping over our thrones. When the party is all ready, you shall come to it, so you ought to be patient. Now, Brighteyes, if you will make a little cotton-wool throne in the middle for Peepsy. I will get the lunch ready. Where are the three bones for the dogs?"

"Over there, behind Fluff's hay-c.o.c.k," said Brighteyes. "And there are five gingerbread birds that Susan made, one for each of us, and the wooden turkey out of the doll-house for Peepsy, because he won't really eat it, you know. Oh! and we ought to have something for Tomty, Nibble, for we invited him, and he said he would certainly come. You might ask Susan for a cup of tea when you go up to call the children, for I heard Tomty tell her yesterday that all the vegetables he wanted were bread and tea."

"Well, so I will!" said Nibble. "And if Susan will not give us any, he can have a cup of milk, and play it is tea."

So away went Nibble, jumping on the hay-c.o.c.ks, and whistling as he went.

Soon he returned, with the three little mice trotting behind him, and Tomty, with his rake over his shoulder, bringing up the rear.

"Here we all are!" cried Puff, joyfully. "Is the party ready, Brighteyes? I think Peepsy is very impatient, though he behaves beautifully."

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"Yes, everything is ready!" replied Brighteyes. "Here is Peepsy's throne in the middle, and these hay-c.o.c.ks are ours. Put him on his throne, Puffy--so! now all sit down yourselves, please, and take the dolls in your laps." The mice and Tomty obeyed meekly, and perched themselves on the hay-c.o.c.ks as best they might.

"Now," continued Brighteyes, "we must all have names, of course, because it isn't any fun just to be ourselves at a party. I will be the Countess Kinchinjunga. What will you be, Nibble!"

"Oh! I am the Bold Baron of Borodino," said Nibble. "Puff and Fluff can be the Princess Perriwinkle and the Marchioness of Mulligatawney, and Downy shall be Nosolio, the n.i.g.g.ardly Knife-Grinder of Nineveh. There's a fine name for you, Downy, boy!"

The n.i.g.g.ardly Knife-Grinder smiled contentedly, and said, "Yef, I'm dat, only I tan't say it."

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"And now," said Nibble, "we will have the lunch, and then we must all make speeches to Peepsy, because that is the proper thing. Countess Kinchinjunga, produce the feast!" Nibble said this with a very lordly air, and waved his hand with great dignity; but unfortunately at that moment he lost his balance, and rolled off the hay-c.o.c.k, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the other mice. But Brighteyes uttered a cry of distress.

"Oh! Nibble, you have rolled on Tomty's cup of tea and upset it. What shall we do?"

"Never mind, Miss!" said Tomty, smiling, "sure I'm not hungry, Miss, let alone it's almost dinner time. And thank ye kindly all the same, Miss Brighteyes."

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"Well, Tomty, you shall hear the speeches, anyhow," said Nibble, consolingly, "and that will be the best part of it; though I am very sorry I upset the tea," he added, "and you shall have my gingerbread bird, if you like, instead." But Tomty declined the bird, with many thanks; and now the "party" began in earnest. Grim was untied, and a sharp whistle from Tomty brought Gruff and Grab to see what was going on. Each dog received a huge bone as his share of the feast, and each showed his delight in his own way. Then the five gingerbread birds were distributed, and the wooden turkey, which was certainly a work of art, was placed before Peepsy's cage with a great deal of ceremony. Peepsy himself manifested no excitement, but no doubt he enjoyed himself in his own way. Then the turkey was handed round to all the dolls, f.a.n.n.y Elssler and Katinka and Sally Bradford; and Puff declared that they all had as much as they could possibly eat, which was probably true. When the feast was over, Nibble rose and said, solemnly, "the speeches will now begin. Tomty, you are the oldest, and you shall make the first speech to Peepsy." "Is it the little tin fowl in the cage, sir?" asked Tomty. "Well, Mr. Peepsy, I've lived forty years, men and boy, and never made a speech yet, sir, but here's wis.h.i.+ng you good health, and long life to you, Mr. Peepsy; and if you live till you sing a song, you'll come to a good old age, I'm thinking." And Tomty sat down, amid the applause of his audience.

"That was a very good speech, Tomty," said Nibble, with a patronizing air, "though it was short. Now hear mine, all of you. Ahem!" and the young orator, standing on the top of his hay-c.o.c.k, struck an imposing att.i.tude. "Friends, Romans, and Tomty, lend me your ears! this is Peepsy's birthday, and he is one year old. I bought him myself at Jane Evans's shop, so I ought to know. He will never be one year old again, and neither shall we, which makes us all sad." "I isn't fad a bit!"

interrupted Downy, with a gleeful chuckle. "Well, you ought to be!" said Nibble, "but you are too young to know much, I suppose. Peepsy is sad, and he might weep if he had any eyes, but they are only little holes in his head. It is sad not to have any eyes, but it is an advantage not to be able to weep. If Puff hadn't had any eyes, she wouldn't have made such a fuss yesterday when I jumped on her toe from the apple tree, because I didn't mean to." "I don't think that is very nice to put in a speech, Nibble!" said Puff, looking rather hurt. "Well," said Nibble, hastily, "I won't say anything more about it, but I want to say this:

"When I bought him at Jane Evans's shop, Peepsy was glad.

Now that he is one year old and knows that he won't be it any more, Peepsy is sad."

"That is poetry," he added, "and that is the best way to finish a speech."

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Upon this Nibble sat down, and after a moment's pause, Brighteyes rose, and spoke as follows: "Peepsy, I am afraid you think it is very hard that you have to stay in your cage all the time. I know I should not like to live in a cage, but then I am not afraid of cats. But if you were to come out and be alive, you would be dreadfully afraid of the china cat in the doll-house, you know you would. Thus we see that all things are for the best! and I am sure your cage is a perfect beauty, which must be a great comfort. Perhaps you think you would like some worms, Peepsy; and we would certainly get you some if you could eat them, but you cannot. My dear Peepsy, I will now conclude my speech, wis.h.i.+ng you many happy returns of the day."

Now it was Puff's turn, but to my surprise, this little mouse, who is generally very ready with her tongue, seemed to hang back. "Let Fluffy read the pottery!" said Puff. "I am so hot, and my head aches so, I don't think I can make my speech."

So Fluff read the famous piece of pottery, to the great delight of all.

Meanwhile I was looking more closely at Puff, and though I was--well, how many miles off? answer, some of you big children! certainly a great many!--still I could see plainly enough that the child was not well. Her cheeks were hot and flushed, and her blue eyes shone with a strange brightness, very different from their usual sunny light. I was glad to see that Tomty was also observing his little pet; and presently he said quietly, "Miss Puff, dear, the sun is too hot for you. Shall Tomty give you a ride on his shoulder, and we'll find Mrs. Posset?"

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"Yes, please, Tomty!" said Puff, wearily; "I am so _very_ tired, though I don't know why I should be."

The other mice cl.u.s.tered round their sister, and kissed and patted her.

They saw that Tomty looked anxious, and when he had carried Puff up to the house in his arms, they soon followed, taking Peepsy and the dolls with them. The three dogs only remained under the cotton-wool tree, discussing the party very gravely, and wondering why it was that human beings never cared to gnaw bones. And so, rather sadly, ended Peepsy's birthday party.

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I jumped on the back of a dragon-fly, And flew and flew till I reached the sky.

I pulled down a cloud that was hiding the blue, And all the wee stars came tumbling through.

They tumbled down and they tumbled round, And turned into flowers as they touched the ground.

So come with me, little children, come, And down in the meadow I'll pick you some.

CHAPTER XII.

SICKNESS IN THE MOUSE-TRAP.

I was very anxious about my little Puff, though I had so much to attend to during the rest of that afternoon, that I could not even look in my gla.s.s to see how things were going at the Mouse-trap. A young and giddy Comet had got his tail twisted round one of my mountain-peaks, and could not disentangle it, and this was a pretty piece of work, as you may imagine. He wriggled and flounced about in a truly disgraceful manner, and it was only by making Bmfkgth bite his nose _very_ hard indeed that I was enabled to get him free, and send him off to his grandmother with a good scolding. (A comet cannot move his tail when his nose is bitten.

This is a fact not generally known on the earth.) But late in the evening, when I knew it was sleepy-time for all the little people down below, I mounted my faithful Flash, and flew down to see how my mice in general, and my Puffy mouse in particular, were doing.

I found the aspect of the nursery somewhat changed. Downy's crib was gone, and Puff was alone in the large bed. Uncle Jack was leaning over her, listening to her heavy breathing, and beside the bed sat Mrs.