Mrs. McGregor untied thesack and put her hand inside.When she felt the vegetablesshe became very very angry.She said that Mr. McGregorhad "done it a purpose."And Mr. McGregor was veryangry too. One of the rottenmarrows came flying throughthe kitchen window, and hitthe youngest Flopsy Bunny.It was rather hurt.
Then Benjamin and Flopsythought that it was time to gohome.So Mr. McGregor did not get histobacco, and Mrs. McGregor didnot get her rabbit skins.But next Christmas ThomasinaTittlemouse got a present ofenough rabbit wool to make herselfa cloak and a hood, and ahandsome muff and a pair ofwarm mittens.
[Nellie'sLittle Book]Once upon a time there wasa woodmouse, and her namewas Mrs. Tittlemouse.She lived in a bank under a hedge.Such a funny house! Therewere yards and yards of sandypassages, leading to store-rooms and nut cellars andseed cellars, all amongst theroots of the hedge.
There was a kitchen, a parlor,a pantry, and a larder.Also, there was Mrs. Tittle-mouse's bedroom, where sheslept in a little box bed!Mrs. Tittlemouse was a mostterribly tidy particular littlemouse, always sweeping anddusting the soft sandy floors.Sometimes a beetle lost its wayin the passages."Shuh! shuh! little dirty feet!"said Mrs. Tittlemouse, clatteringher dustpan.
And one day a little old womanran up and down in a red spottycloak."Your house is on fire, MotherLadybird! Fly away home to yourchildren!"Another day, a big fat spidercame in to shelter from the rain."Beg pardon, is this not MissMuffet's?""Go away, you bold bad spider!Leaving ends of cobweb all overmy nice clean house!"She bundled the spider out at awindow.He let himself down the hedgewith a long thin bit of string.
Mrs. Tittlemouse went on herway to a distant storeroom, tofetch cherrystones and thistle-down seed for dinner.All along the passage shesniffed, and looked at the floor."I smell a smell of honey; is itthe cowslips outside, in the hedge?I am sure I can see the marks oflittle dirty feet."Suddenly round a corner, shemet Babbitty Bumble—"Zizz,Bizz, Bizzz!" said the bumble bee.Mrs. Tittlemouse looked at herseverely. She wished that she hada broom."Good-day, Babbitty Bumble; Ishould be glad to buy some bees-wax. But what are you doingdown here? Why do you alwayscome in at a window, and say,Zizz, Bizz, Bizzz?" Mrs. Tittle-mouse began to get cross.
"Zizz, Wizz, Wizzz!" repliedBabbitty Bumble in a peevishsqueak. She sidled down a passage,and disappeared into astoreroom which had been usedfor acorns.Mrs. Tittlemouse had eaten theacorns before Christmas; thestoreroom ought to have beenempty.But it was full of untidy drymoss.Mrs. Tittlemouse began to pull out themoss. Three or four other bees puttheir heads out, and buzzed fiercely."I am not in the habit of lettinglodgings; this is an intrusion!"said Mrs. Tittlemouse."I will have them turned out—" "Buzz! Buzz! Buzzz!"—"Iwonder who would help me?""Bizz, Wizz, Wizzz!"—"I will not have Mr. Jackson;he never wipes his feet."
Mrs. Tittlemouse decided toleave the bees till after dinner.When she got back to the parlor,she heard some one coughingin a fat voice; and there sat Mr.Jackson himself.He was sitting all over asmall rocking chair, twiddling histhumbs and smiling, with his feeton the fender.He lived in a drain below thehedge, in a very dirty wet ditch."How do you do, Mr. Jackson?Deary me, you have gotvery wet!""Thank you, thank you,thank you, Mrs. Tittlemouse!I'll sit awhile and dry myself,"said Mr. Jackson.He sat and smiled, and thewater dripped off his coattails. Mrs. Tittlemouse wentround with a mop.
He sat such a while that he hadto be asked if he would take somedinner?First she offered him cherry-stones. "Thank you, thank you,Mrs. Tittlemouse! No teeth, noteeth, no teeth!" said Mr. Jackson.He opened his mouth mostunnecessarily wide; he certainly hadnot a tooth in his head.Then she offered him thistle-down seed—"Tiddly, widdly,widdly! Pouff, pouff, puff." saidMr. Jackson. He blew the thistle-down all over the room."Thank you, thank you, thankyou, Mrs. Tittlemouse! Now whatI really—REALLY should like—would be a little dish of honey!"
"I am afraid I have not gotany, Mr. Jackson!" said Mrs.Tittlemouse."Tiddly, widdly, widdly,Mrs. Tittlemouse!" said thesmiling Mr. Jackson, "I can SMELL it;that is why I came to call."Mr. Jackson rose ponderouslyfrom the table, and beganto look into the cupboards.Mrs. Tittlemouse followed him witha dishcloth, to wipe his largewet footmarks off the parlor floor.When he had convinced himselfthat there was no honey in thecupboards, he began to walkdown the passage."Indeed, indeed, you will stickfast, Mr. Jackson!""Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs.Tittlemouse!"
First he squeezed into the pantry."Tiddly, widdly, widdly? Nohoney? No honey, Mrs. Tittlemouse?"There were three creepy-crawlypeople hiding in the plate rack.Two of them got away; but thelittlest one he caught.Then he squeezed into the larder.Miss Butterfly was tasting thesugar; but she flew away out ofthe window."Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs.Tittlemouse; you seem to haveplenty of visitors!""And without any invitation!"said Mrs. Thomasina Tittlemouse.
They went along the sandypassage—"Tiddly, widdly—" "Buzz!Wizz! Wizz!"He met Babbitty round a corner,and snapped her up, and puther down again."I do not like bumble bees. Theyare all over bristles," said Mr.Jackson, wiping his mouth withhis coat sleeve."Get out, you nasty old toad!" shrieked Babbitty Bumble."I shall go distracted!" scolded Mrs. Tittlemouse.She shut herself up in the nutcellar while Mr. Jackson pulled outthe bees-nest. He seemed to haveno objection to stings.When Mrs. Tittlemouse venturedto come out—everybodyhad gone away.But the untidiness was somethingdreadful—"Never did I seesuch a mess—smears of honey;and moss, and thistledown—andmarks of big and little dirty feet—all over my nice clean house!"
She gathered up the mossand the remains of the bees-wax.Then she went out andfetched some twigs, to partlyclose up the front door."I will make it too small forMr. Jackson!"She fetched soft soap, andflannel, and a new scrubbingbrush from the storeroom.But she was too tired to do anymore. First she fell asleep inher chair, and then she wentto bed."Will it ever be tidy again?"said poor Mrs. Tittlemouse.
Next morning she got upvery early and began a springcleaning which lasted a fort-night.She swept, and scrubbed,and dusted; and she rubbedup the furniture with bees-wax, and polished her little tinspoons.When it was all beautifullyneat and clean, she gave aparty to five other little mice,without Mr. Jackson.He smelt the party andcame up the bank, but hecould not squeeze in at thedoor.
So they handed him out acorn cupfuls ofhoneydew through the window,and he was not at all offended.He sat outside in the sun, and said—"Tiddly, widdly, widdly! Your verygood health, Mrs. Tittlemouse!"
[For Many Unknown Little Friends,Including Monica]
Once upon a time there was alittle fat comfortable grey squirrel,called Timmy Tiptoes. He had anest thatched with leaves in thetop of a tall tree; and he had alittle squirrel wife called Goody.Timmy Tiptoes sat out, enjoyingthe breeze; he whisked his tail andchuckled—"Little wife Goody, thenuts are ripe; we must lay up astore for winter and spring."Goody Tiptoes was busy pushingmoss under the thatch—"The nestis so snug, we shall be soundasleep all winter." "Then we shallwake up all the thinner, whenthere is nothing to eat in spring-time," replied prudent Timothy.
When Timmy and GoodyTiptoes came to the nutthicket, they found othersquirrels were there already.Timmy took off his jacketand hung it on a twig; theyworked away quietly by themselves.Every day they made severaljourneys and picked quantitiesof nuts. They carried themaway in bags, and storedthem in several hollowstumps near the tree wherethey had built their nest.
When these stumps were full,they began to empty the bags intoa hole high up a tree, that hadbelonged to a woodpecker; the nutsrattled down—down—down inside."How shall you ever get themout again? It is like a money box!"said Goody."I shall be much thinner beforespringtime, my love," said TimmyTiptoes, peeping into the hole.They did collect quantities—because they did not lose them!Squirrels who bury their nuts inthe ground lose more than half,because they cannot rememberthe place.The most forgetful squirrel inthe wood was called Silvertail. Hebegan to dig, and he could notremember. And then he dug againand found some nuts that did notbelong to him; and there was afight. And other squirrels began todig,—the whole wood was incommotion!
Unfortunately, just at this timea flock of little birds flew by, frombush to bush, searching for greencaterpillars and spiders. Therewere several sorts of little birds,twittering different songs.The first one sang—"Who's bindigging-up MY nuts? Who's-been-digging-up MY nuts?"And another sang—"Little bitabread and-NO-cheese! Little bit-a-bread an'-NO-cheese!"The squirrels followed and listened.The first little bird flew intothe bush where Timmy and GoodyTiptoes were quietly tying up theirbags, and it sang—"Who's-bindigging-up MY nuts? Who's beendigging-up MY-nuts?"Timmy Tiptoes went on withhis work without replying; indeed,the little bird did not expect ananswer. It was only singing itsnatural song, and it meant nothingat all.
But when the other squirrelsheard that song, they rushed uponTimmy Tiptoes and cuffed andscratched him, and upset his bagof nuts. The innocent little birdwhich had caused all the mischief,flew away in a fright!Timmy rolled over and over,and then turned tail and fledtowards his nest, followed bya crowd of squirrels shouting—"Who's-been digging-up MY-nuts?"They caught him and draggedhim up the very same tree, wherethere was the little round hole,and they pushed him in. The holewas much too small for TimmyTiptoes' figure. They squeezedhim dreadfully, it was a wonderthey did not break his ribs. "Wewill leave him here till he confesses,"said Silvertail Squirrel andhe shouted into the hole—"Who's-been-digging-up MY-nuts?"
Timmy Tiptoes made noreply; he had tumbled downinside the tree, upon half apeck of nuts belonging tohimself. He lay quite stunned andstill.Goody Tiptoes picked up thenut bags and went home. Shemade a cup of tea for Timmy; buthe didn't come and didn't come.Goody Tiptoes passed a lonelyand unhappy night. Next morningshe ventured back to the nutbushes to look for him; but theother unkind squirrels drove heraway.She wandered all over thewood, calling—"Timmy Tiptoes! Timmy Tip-toes! Oh, where is Timmy Tiptoes?"
In the meantime Timmy Tiptoescame to his senses. He foundhimself tucked up in a little mossbed, very much in the dark, feelingsore; it seemed to be underground. Timmy coughed andgroaned, because his ribs hurtedhim. There was a chirpy noise,and a small striped Chipmunkappeared with a night light, andhoped he felt better?It was most kind to Timmy Tiptoes;it lent him its nightcap; andthe house was full of provisions.The Chipmunk explained that ithad rained nuts through the top ofthe tree—"Besides, I found a fewburied!" It laughed and chuckledwhen it heard Timmy's story.While Timmy was confined tobed, it 'ticed him to eat quantities—"But how shall I ever get outthrough that hole unless I thinmyself? My wife will be anxious!""Just another nut—or two nuts;let me crack them for you," saidthe Chipmunk. Timmy Tiptoesgrew fatter and fatter!
Now Goody Tiptoes had set towork again by herself. She did notput any more nuts into the woodpecker'shole, because she had alwaysdoubted how they could begot out again. She hid them undera tree root; they rattled down,down, down. Once when Goodyemptied an extra big bagful, therewas a decided squeak; and nexttime Goody brought another bagful,a little striped Chipmunkscrambled out in a hurry."It is getting perfectly full-updownstairs; the sitting room isfull, and they are rolling along thepassage; and my husband, ChippyHackee, has run away and left me.What is the explanation of theseshowers of nuts?""I am sure I beg your pardon; Idid not know that anybody livedhere," said Mrs. Goody Tiptoes;"but where is Chippy Hackee? Myhusband, Timmy Tiptoes, has runaway too." "I know where Chippyis; a little bird told me," said Mrs.Chippy Hackee.
She led the way to the woodpecker'stree, and they listened atthe hole.Down below there was a noiseof nutcrackers, and a fat squirrelvoice and a thin squirrel voicewere singing together—"My little old man and I fell out,How shall we bring this matter about?Bring it about as well as you can,And get you gone, you little old man!"
"You could squeeze in, throughthat little round hole," said GoodyTiptoes. "Yes, I could," said theChipmunk, "but my husband,Chippy Hackee, bites!"Down below there was a noiseof cracking nuts and nibbling; andthen the fat squirrel voice and thethin squirrel voice sang—"For the diddlum dayDay diddle durn di!Day diddle diddle dum day!"
Then Goody peeped in at thehole, and called down—"TimmyTiptoes! Oh fie, Timmy Tiptoes!"And Timmy replied, "Is that you,Goody Tiptoes? Why, certainly!"He came up and kissed Goodythrough the hole; but he was so fatthat he could not get out.Chippy Hackee was not too fat,but he did not want to come; hestayed down below and chuckled.And so it went on for a fort-night; till a big wind blew offthe top of the tree, and openedup the hole and let in the rain.Then Timmy Tiptoes cameout, and went home with anumbrella.
But Chippy Hackee continuedto camp out for anotherweek, although it wasuncomfortable.At last a large bear camewalking through the wood.Perhaps he also was lookingfor nuts; he seemed to besniffing around.
Chippy Hackee went homein a hurry!And when Chippy Hackeegot home, he found he hadcaught a cold in his head; andhe was more uncomfortablestill.
And now Timmy andGoody Tiptoes keep their nutstore fastened up with a littlepadlock.And whenever that littlebird sees the Chipmunks, hesings—"Who's-been-digging-up MY-nuts? Who's been dig-ging-up MY-nuts?" But nobodyever answers!
[For William Francis of Ulva—Someday!]I have made many books aboutwell-behaved people. Now, for achange, I am going to make a storyabout two disagreeable people,called Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.Nobody could call Mr. Tod"nice." The rabbits could not bearhim; they could smell him half amile off. He was of a wanderinghabit and he had foxy whiskers;they never knew where he would benext.One day he was living in a stick-house in the coppice [grove], causingterror to the family of old Mr.Benjamin Bouncer. Next day hemoved into a pollard willow nearthe lake, frightening the wild ducksand the water rats.In winter and early spring hemight generally be found in anearth amongst the rocks at the topof Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.He had half a dozen houses, buthe was seldom at home.The houses were not alwaysempty when Mr. Tod moved OUT;because sometimes Tommy Brockmoved IN; (without asking leave).Tommy Brock was a short bristlyfat waddling person with a grin; hegrinned all over his face. He wasnot nice in his habits. He ate waspnests and frogs and worms; and hewaddled about by moonlight, diggingthings up.His clothes were very dirty; andas he slept in the daytime, healways went to bed in his boots.And the bed which he went to bedin was generally Mr. Tod's.Now Tommy Brock did occasionallyeat rabbit pie; but it was onlyvery little young ones occasionally,when other food was really scarce.He was friendly with old Mr.Bouncer; they agreed in dislikingthe wicked otters and Mr. Tod; theyoften talked over that painful subject.Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken inyears. He sat in the spring sunshineoutside the burrow, in a muffler;smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.He lived with his son BenjaminBunny and his daughter-in-lawFlopsy, who had a young family.Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge ofthe family that afternoon, becauseBenjamin and Flopsy had gone out.The little rabbit babies were justold enough to open their blue eyesand kick. They lay in a fluffy bed ofrabbit wool and hay, in a shallowburrow, separate from the mainrabbit hole. To tell the truth—oldMr. Bouncer had forgotten them.He sat in the sun, and conversedcordially with Tommy Brock, whowas passing through the wood witha sack and a little spud which heused for digging, and some moletraps. He complained bitterlyabout the scarcity of pheasants'eggs, and accused Mr. Tod ofpoaching them. And the otters hadcleared off all the frogs while hewas asleep in winter—"I have nothad a good square meal for a fort-night, I am living on pig-nuts. Ishall have to turn vegetarian andeat my own tail!" said TommyBrock.It was not much of a joke, but ittickled old Mr. Bouncer; becauseTommy Brock was so fat andstumpy and grinning.So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; andpressed Tommy Brock to come inside,to taste a slice of seed cakeand "a glass of my daughter Flopsy'scowslip wine." Tommy Brocksqueezed himself into the rabbithole with alacrity.Then old Mr. Bouncer smokedanother pipe, and gave TommyBrock a cabbage leaf cigar whichwas so very strong that it madeTommy Brock grin more than ever;and the smoke filled the burrow.Old Mr. Bouncer coughed andlaughed; and Tommy Brock puffedand grinned.And Mr. Bouncer laughed andcoughed, and shut his eyes becauseof the cabbage smoke ..........When Flopsy and Benjamin cameback old Mr. Bouncer woke up.Tommy Brock and all the youngrabbit babies had disappeared!Mr. Bouncer would not confessthat he had admitted anybody intothe rabbit hole. But the smell ofbadger was undeniable; and therewere round heavy footmarks in thesand. He was in disgrace; Flopsywrung her ears, and slapped him.Benjamin Bunny set off at onceafter Tommy Brock.There was not much difficulty intracking him; he had left his foot-mark and gone slowly up the windingfootpath through the wood. Here hehad rooted up the moss and woodsorrel. There he had dug quite adeep hole for dog darnel; and hadset a mole trap. A little streamcrossed the way. Benjamin skippedlightly over dry-foot; the badger'sheavy steps showed plainly in the mud.The path led to a part of thethicket where the trees had beencleared; there were leafy oakstumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths—but the smell that made Benjaminstop was NOT the smell of flowers!Mr. Tod's stick house was beforehim; and, for once, Mr. Tod was athome. There was not only a foxyflavor in proof of it—there wassmoke coming out of the brokenpail that served as a chimney.Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring,his whiskers twitched. Inside thestick house somebody dropped aplate, and said something. Benjaminstamped his foot, and bolted.He never stopped till he came tothe other side of the wood. ApparentlyTommy Brock had turned thesame way. Upon the top of the wallthere were again the marks ofbadger; and some ravellings of asack had caught on a briar.Benjamin climbed over the wall,into a meadow. He found anothermole trap newly set; he was stillupon the track of Tommy Brock. Itwas getting late in the afternoon.Other rabbits were coming out toenjoy the evening air. One of themin a blue coat, by himself, was busilyhunting for dandelions.—"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, PeterRabbit!" shouted Benjamin Bunny.The blue coated rabbit sat upwith pricked ears—"Whatever isthe matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is ita cat? or John Stoat Ferret?""No, no, no! He's bagged myfamily—Tommy Brock—in a sack—have you seen him?""Tommy Brock? how many,Cousin Benjamin?""Seven, Cousin Peter, and all ofthem twins! Did he come this way?Please tell me quick!""Yes, yes; not ten minutes since... he said they were CATERPILLARS;I did think they were kicking ratherhard, for caterpillars.""Which way? which way has hegone, Cousin Peter?""He had a sack with somethinglive in it; I watched him set a moletrap. Let me use my mind, CousinBenjamin; tell me from the beginning,"Benjamin did so."My Uncle Bouncer has displayeda lamentable want of discretion forhis years;" said Peter reflectively,"but there are two hopefulcircumstances. Your family is alive andkicking; and Tommy Brock has hadrefreshments. He will probably goto sleep, and keep them for breakfast.""Which way?" "Cousin Benjamin,compose yourself. I knowvery well which way. Because Mr.Tod was at home in the stick househe has gone to Mr. Tod's otherhouse, at the top of Bull Banks. Ipartly know, because he offered toleave any message at Sister Cottontail's;he said he would be passing."(Cottontail had married a blackrabbit, and gone to live on the hill.)Peter hid his dandelions, andaccompanied the afflicted parent,who was all of atwitter. Theycrossed several fields and began toclimb the hill; the tracks of TommyBrock were plainly to be seen. Heseemed to have put down the sackevery dozen yards, to rest."He must be very puffed; we areclose behind him, by the scent.What a nasty person!" said Peter.The sunshine was still warm andslanting on the hill pastures. Halfway up, Cottontail was sitting inher doorway, with four or five half-grown little rabbits playing abouther; one black and the othersbrown.Cottontail had seen TommyBrock passing in the distance.Asked whether her husband was athome she replied that TommyBrock had rested twice while shewatched him.He had nodded, and pointed tothe sack, and seemed doubled upwith laughing.—"Come away,Peter; he will be cooking them;come quicker!" said BenjaminBunny.They climbed up and up;—"Hewas at home; I saw his black earspeeping out of the hole." "They livetoo near the rocks to quarrel withtheir neighbors. Come on, CousinBenjamin!"When they came near the woodat the top of Bull Banks, they wentcautiously. The trees grew amongstheaped up rocks; and there,beneath a crag, Mr. Tod had madeone of his homes. It was at the topof a steep bank; the rocks andbushes overhung it. The rabbitscrept up carefully, listening andpeeping.This house was something betweena cave, a prison, and a tumbledownpigsty. There was a strongdoor, which was shut and locked.The setting sun made the windowpanes glow like red flame; butthe kitchen fire was not alight. Itwas neatly laid with dry sticks, asthe rabbits could see, when theypeeped through the window.Benjamin sighed with relief.But there were preparationsupon the kitchen table which madehim shudder. There was an immenseempty pie dish of blue willowpattern, and a large carvingknife and fork, and a chopper.At the other end of the table wasa partly unfolded tablecloth, aplate, a tumbler, a knife and fork,salt cellar, mustard and a chair—in short, preparations for oneperson's supper.No person was to be seen, andno young rabbits. The kitchen wasempty and silent; the clock had rundown. Peter and Benjamin flattenedtheir noses against the window,and stared into the dusk.Then they scrambled round therocks to the other side of the house.It was damp and smelly, and over-grown with thorns and briars.The rabbits shivered in theirshoes."Oh my poor rabbit babies!What a dreadful place; I shall neversee them again!" sighed Benjamin.They crept up to the bedroomwindow. It was closed and boltedlike the kitchen. But there weresigns that this window had beenrecently open; the cobwebs weredisturbed, and there were fresh dirtyfootmarks upon the windowsill.The room inside was so dark thatat first they could make out nothing;but they could hear a noise—aslow deep regular snoring grunt.And as their eyes became accustomedto the darkness, they perceivedthat somebody was asleepon Mr. Tod's bed, curled up underthe blanket.—"He has gone to bedin his boots," whispered Peter.Benjamin, who was all of atwitter,pulled Peter off the windowsill.