CHAPTER III.

Theraccoon’s story was received with general approbation; and the grandmother, in particular, declared she had not passed so pleasant an hour for a very long time. The good woman was gradually becoming accustomed to her strange visitors, and ventured to address them with a little more freedom, though she still trembled and clutched her knitting-needles tighter when she heard the bear’s deep tones.

“It is really very good of you all,” she said, “to take compassion upon my loneliness. Before I came to this cottage I lived in a large town, where I had many friends, and I find the change very great, and the life here very solitary. Indeed, if it were not for my dear little Toto, I should lead quite the life of a hermit.”

“What is a hermit?” asked the bear, who had an inquiring mind, and liked to know the meaning of words.

“It is a crab,” said the parrot. “I have often seen them in the West Indies. They get into the shells of other crabs, and drive the owners out. A wretched set!”

“Oh, dear!” cried the grandmother. “That is not at all the kind of hermit I mean. A hermit in this country is a man who lives quite alone, without any companions, in some uninhabited region, such as a wood or a lonely hillside.”

“Is it?” exclaimed the bear and the squirrel at the same moment. “Why, then, we know one.”

“Certainly,” the squirrel went on; “Old Baldhead must be a hermit, of course. He lives alone, and in an uninhabited region; that is, whatyouwould call uninhabited, I suppose.”

“How very interesting! Where does he live?” asked Toto. “Who is he? How is it that I have never seen him?”

“Oh, he lives quite at the other end of the wood!” replied the squirrel; “some ten miles or more from here. You have never been so far, my dear boy, and Old Baldhead isn’t likely to come into our part of the wood. He paid us one visit several years ago, and that was enough for him, eh, Bruin?”

“Humph! I think so!” said Bruin, smiling grimly. “He seemed quite satisfied, I thought.”

“Tell us about his visit!” cried Toto eagerly. “I have never heard anything about him, and I know it must be funny, or you would not chuckle so, Bruin.”

“Well,” said the bear, “there isn’t much to tell, but you shall hear all I know.Icall that hermit, if that is his name, a very impudent fellow. Just fancy this, will you? One evening, late in the autumn, about three years ago, I was coming home from a long ramble, very tired and hungry. I had left a particularly nice comb of honey and some other little things in my cave, all ready for supper, for I knew when I started that I should be late, and I was looking forward to a very comfortable evening.

“Well, when I came to the door of my cave, what should I see but an old man with a long gray beard, sitting on the ground eating my honey!” Here the bear looked around with a deeply injured air, and there was a general murmur of sympathy.

“Your course was obvious!” said the raccoon. “Why didn’t you eat him, stupid?”

“Hush!” whispered the wood-pigeon softly. “You must not say things like that, Coon! you will frighten the old lady.” And indeed, the grandmother seemed much discomposed by the raccoon’s suggestion.

“Wouldn’t have been polite!” replied Bruin. “My own house, you know, and all that. Besides,” he added in an undertone, with an apprehensive glance at the grandmother, “he was old, and probably very—”

“Ahem!” said Toto in a warning voice.

“Oh, certainly not!” said the bear hastily, “not upon any account. I was about to make the same remark myself. A—where was I?”

“The old man was eating your honey,” said the woodchuck.

“I only stood up on my hind legs.”

“Of course!” replied Bruin. “So, though I would not have hurt himfor the world” (with another glance towards the grandmother), “I thought there would be no harm in frightening him a little. Accordingly, I first made a great noise among the bushes, snapping the twigs and rustling the leaves at a great rate. He stopped eating, and looked and listened, listened and looked; didn’t seem to like it much, I thought. Then, when he was pretty thoroughly roused, I came slowly forward, and planted myself directly in front of the cave.”

“Dear me!” cried the grandmother. “How very dreadful! poor old man!”

“Well now, ma’am!” said Bruin appealingly, “he had no right to steal my honey; now had he? And I didn’t hurt a hair of his head,” he continued. “I only stood up on my hind-legs and waved my fore-paws round and round like a windmill, and roared.”

A general burst of merriment greeted this statement, from all except the grandmother, who shuddered in sympathy with the unfortunate hermit.

“Well?” asked Toto, “and what did he do then?”

“Why,” said Bruin, “he crouched down in a little heap on the ground, and squeezed himself against the wall of the cave, evidently expecting me to rush upon him and tear him to pieces; I sat down in front of him and looked at him for a few minutes; then, when I thought he had had about enough, I walked past him into the cave, and then he ran away. He has never made me another visit.”

“No,” said the squirrel; “he went home to his own cave at the other end of the wood, and built a barricade round it, and didn’t put his nose out of doors for a week after. I have a cousin who lives in that neighborhood, and he told me about it.”

“Have you ever been over there?” asked Toto.

“Yes, indeed!” replied the squirrel, “hundreds of times. I often go over to spend the day with my cousin, and we amuse ourselves by dropping nuts on the hermit’s head as he sits in front of his cave. I know few things more amusing,” he continued, turning to the grandmother, “than dropping nuts on a bald head. You can make bets as to how high they will go on the rebound. Have you ever tried it, ma’am? sitting in a tree, you know.”

“Never!” replied the grandmother with much dignity. “In my youth it was not the custom for gentlewomen to sit in trees for any purpose; and if it had been, I trust I should have had more respect for age and infirmity than to amuse myself in the manner you suggest.”

The squirrel was somewhat abashed at this, and scratched his ear to hide his embarrassment.

The pause which ensued gave the raccoon an opportunity for which he had been waiting. He addressed the grandmother in his most honeyed accents:—

“Our ways, dear madam,” he said, “are necessarily very different from yours. There must be much in our woodland life that seems rough, and possibly even savage, to a person of refinement and culture like yourself. While we roam about in the untutored forest” (“Hear! hear!” interrupted the squirrel. “‘Untutored forest’ is good!”), “you remain in the elegant atmosphere of your polished home. While we fare hardly, snatching a precarious and scanty subsistence from roots and herbs, you, lapped in intellectual and highly cultivated leisure, while away the hours by manufacturing gingerbread and—a—jam.” The raccoon here waved his tail, and gave Toto a look whose craftiness cannot be described in words.

Toto took the hint. “Dear me!” he cried. “Of course! how stupid of me! Grandmother, is there any gingerbread in the house? My friends have never tasted any, and I should like to give them some of yours.”

“Certainly, my dear boy,” said the good old lady; “by all means. I have just made some this afternoon. Bring a good plateful, and bring a pot of raspberry jam, too. Perhaps Mr. Coon would like a little of that.”

Mr. Coondidlike a little of that. In fact, Mr. Coon would have liked the whole pot, and would have taken it, too, if it had not been for Toto, who declared that it must be share and share alike. He gave them each a spoon, and let them help themselves in turn, observing the strictest impartiality.

The feast seemed to be highly enjoyed by all.

“Well, Bruin, how do you like jam?” asked Toto.

“Very much, very much indeed!” replied the bear. “Something like honey, isn’t it, only entirely different? What kind of creatures make it? Butterflies?”

“Lady makes it herself, stupid!” muttered the woodchuck, who was out of temper, having just tried to get a spoonful out of turn, and failed. “Didn’t you hear her say so? Butterflies never make anything except butter.”

The little squirrel sat nibbling his gingerbread in a state of great satisfaction. “Who’s to tell the story next time?” he asked presently.

“Parrot,” answered the raccoon, with his mouth full of jam. “Parrot promised ever so long ago to tell us a story about Africa. Didn’t you, Polly?”

The parrot drew herself up with an air of offended dignity. “The gentlemen of my acquaintance, Mr. Coon,” she said, “call me Miss Mary. I am ‘Polly’ to a few intimates only.”

“Oh, indeed!” said the raccoon. “I beg your pardon, Miss Mary. No offence, I trust?”

Miss Mary unbent a little, and condescended to explain. “My real name,” she said, “is Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo; but, not understanding the subtleties of our African languages, I do not expect you to pronounce that. ‘Miss Mary’ will do very well; though,” she added, “Ihavebeen called Princess in happier days.”

“When was that?” inquired Toto. “Tell us about it, Miss Mary.”

“No, no!” interrupted the bear. “No more stories to-night. It is too late. We must be getting home, or the owls will be after us.”

“To-morrow, then,” cried Toto. “Will you all come to-morrow? Then we will hear the parrot’s story.”

The animals all promised to come on the morrow, and each in turn took leave of the grandmother, thanking her for the treat they had had. The bear, after making his best bow, led the way towards the forest, followed by the raccoon, the woodchuck, the squirrel, the parrot, and the wood-pigeon. And soon the whole company disappeared among the branches.

CHAPTER IV.

“I was born,” said the parrot, “in Africa.”

It was a lovely afternoon; and Toto’s friends were again assembled around the cottage-door. The parrot, as the story-teller of the day, was perched in great state on the high back of an old-fashioned easy-chair, which Toto had brought out for his grandmother. The old lady sat quietly knitting, with Bruin on one side of her, and Coon on the other; while Toto lay on the grass at her feet, alternately caressing the wood-pigeon and poking the woodchuck to wake him up.

When the parrot said, “I was born in Africa,” all the animals looked very wise, but said nothing; so she added, “Of course, you all know where Africa is.”

“Of course,” said the raccoon hastily; “certainly, I should hope so! We knowwhereit is; if you come to that, we know where it is.”

“Coon,” said Toto, laughing, “what a humbug you are! How is Africa bounded, old fellow? Tell us, if you know so well.”

“North by the Gulf States, south by Kalamazoo, east by Mt. Everest, and west by the Straits of Frangipanni,” replied the raccoon, without a moment’s hesitation.

Miss Mary looked much disgusted. “Africa,” she said, “as every person ofeducationknows [with a withering glance at the raccoon], is the exact centre of the universe. It is the most beautiful of all lands,—a land of palm-trees and crocodiles, ivory and gold-dust, sunny fountains and—”

“Oh!” cried Toto eagerly, “excuse me for interrupting, Miss Mary; butarethe sands really golden? ‘Where Afric’s sunny fountains,’ you know, ‘roll down their golden sands,’—is that really true?”

“Certainly,” replied Miss Mary.

“Dear me, yes. A fountain wouldn’t be called a fountain in Africa if it hadn’t golden sands. It would be called a cucumber-wood pump,” suggested the woodchuck drowsily.

“Toto,” said the parrot sharply, “if I am interrupted any more, I shall go home. Will that woodchuck be quiet, or will he not?”

“He will, he will!” cried Toto. “We will all be very quiet, Miss Mary, and not say a word. Pray go on.”

Miss Mary smoothed her feathers, which had become quite ruffled, and continued,—

“I was not a common wild parrot,—I should think not, indeed! My mother came of a distinguished family, and was the favorite bird of the great Bhughabhoo, King of Central Africa; and I, as soon as I was fully fledged, became the pet and darling of his only daughter, the Princess Polpetti. Ah! happy, indeed, were the first years of my life! I was the Princess’s constant companion. She used to make songs in my honor, and sing them to her royal father while he drank his rum-and-water. They were lovely songs. Would you like to hear one of them?”

All the company declared that it was the one desire of their hearts. So, clearing her throat, and cocking her head on one side, Miss Mary sang:—

“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,Fairest fowl that ever grew,Fairest fowl that ever growed,How you brighten my abode!How you ornament the view,Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo!“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,You have wit and beauty, too;You can dance, and you can sing;You can tie a pudding-string.Is there aught youcannotdo,Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo?’

“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,Fairest fowl that ever grew,Fairest fowl that ever growed,How you brighten my abode!How you ornament the view,Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo!

“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,

Fairest fowl that ever grew,

Fairest fowl that ever growed,

How you brighten my abode!

How you ornament the view,

Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo!

“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,You have wit and beauty, too;You can dance, and you can sing;You can tie a pudding-string.Is there aught youcannotdo,Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo?’

“‘Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo,

You have wit and beauty, too;

You can dance, and you can sing;

You can tie a pudding-string.

Is there aught youcannotdo,

Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo?’

“That was her opinion of my merits,” continued the parrot modestly. “Indeed, it was the general opinion.

“As I was saying, I was the Princess’s constant companion. All day I followed her about, sitting on her shoulder, or flying about her head. All night I slept perched on her nose-ring, which she always hung upon a hook when she went to bed.

“Ah! that nose-ring! I wish I had never seen it. It was the cause of all my misfortunes,—of my lovely Princess’s death and my own exile. And yet it was a lovely thing in itself.

“I observe, madam,” continued the parrot, addressing the grandmother, “that you wear no nose-ring. Such a pity! There is no ornament so becoming. In Africa it is a most important article of dress,—I may saythemost important. Can I not persuade you to try the effect?”

“Thank you,” replied the grandmother, smiling. “I fear I am too old, Miss Mary, even if it were the custom in this country to wear nose-rings, which I believe it is not. But how was the Princess’s nose-ring the cause of your misfortunes? Pray tell us.”

The parrot looked sadly at the grandmother’s nose, and shook her head. “Such a pity!” she repeated. “It would be so becoming! You would never regret it. However,” she added, “you shall hear the rest of my sad story.

“The Princess’s nose-ring was, as you may infer from the fact of my being able to swing in it, a very large one. She was a connoisseur in nose-rings, and had a large collection of them, of which collection this was the gem. It was of beaten gold, incrusted with precious stones. No other nose in the kingdom could have sustained such a weight; but hers—ah, hers was a nose in a thousand.”

“Pardon me!” said the raccoon softly, “do I understand that a long nose is considered a beauty in Africa?”

“It is, indeed,” replied the parrot. “It is, indeed. You would be much admired in Africa, Mr. Coon.”

The raccoon looked sidewise at his sharp-pointed nose, and stroked it complacently. “Ah!” he observed, “I agree with you, Miss Mary, as to Africa being the centre of the earth. Pray go on.”

“I need hardly say,” continued the parrot, “that the jewelled nose-ring was the envy of all the other princesses for miles around. Foremost among the envious ones was the Princess Panka, the daughter of a neighboring king. She never could have worn the nose-ring; her nose was less than half an inch long, and she was altogether hideous; but she wanted it, and she made up her mind to get it by foul means, if fair ones would not do. Accordingly she bribed the Princess’s bogghun.”

“The Princess’swhat?” asked the bear.

“Bogghun,” repeated the parrot testily. “The Princess’s bogghun! Don’t tell me you don’t know what a bogghun is!”

“Well, I don’t,” replied sturdy Bruin; “and what’s more, I don’t believe any one else does!”

The parrot looked around, but as no one seemed inclined to give any information respecting bogghuns, she continued, “The bogghun is a kind of lizard, found only on the island of Bogghun-Chunka. It is about five feet long, of a brilliant green color. It invariably holds the end of its tail in its mouth, and moves by rolling, while in this position, like a child’s hoop. In fact, it is used as a hoop by African children; hence the term ‘bogghun.’ It feeds on the chunka, a triangular yellow beetle found in the same locality; hence the name of the island, Bogghun-Chunka.

“She caressed the bogghun.”

“The bogghun is a treacherous animal, as I have found to my cost. The one belonging to my mistress was a very beautiful creature, and much beloved by her, yet he betrayed her in the basest manner, as you shall hear.

“The Princess Panka, finding that the bogghun was very fond of molasses candy, bribed him by the offer of three pounds of that condiment to deliver the Princess into her hands. The plot was arranged, and the day set. On that day, as usual, the bogghun rolled up to the door after dinner, and the Princess, taking me on her shoulder, went out for her usual afternoon play. She caressed the bogghun,—ah! faithless wretch! how could he bear the touch of that gentle hand?—and then struck him lightly with her silver hoop-stick; he rolled swiftly away, and we followed, Polpetti bounding as lightly as a deer, while I sat upon her shoulder, undisturbed by the rapid motion.

“Away rolled the bogghun, away and away, over the meadows and into the forest; away and away bounded the Princess in pursuit. The golden nose-ring flashed and glittered in the sunlight; the golden bangles on her wrists and ankles tinkled and rang their tiny bells as she went. Faster and faster! faster and faster! The monkeys, swinging by their tails from the branches, chattered with astonishment at us; the wild parrots screamed at us; all the birds sang and chirped and twittered,—

‘Come! come! tweedle-dee-dum!See! see! tweedle-de-dee!Hi! hi! kikeriki!They have no wings, and yet they fly.’

‘Come! come! tweedle-dee-dum!

See! see! tweedle-de-dee!

Hi! hi! kikeriki!

They have no wings, and yet they fly.’

And truly we did seem to fly, so swift was our motion. At length I became alarmed, and begged the Princess to turn back. She had never before gone so far in the forest unattended, I told her; and there was no knowing what dangers might lurk in its leafy depths. But, alas! she was too much excited to listen to my remonstrances. On and on rolled the treacherous bogghun, and on and on she bounded in pursuit.

“Suddenly, as we went skimming across an open glade, a sharp twang was heard: I saw a white flash in the air; and the next moment I was hurled violently to the ground. Recovering myself in an instant, I saw my lovely Princess stretched lifeless on the ground, with an arrow quivering in her heart!

“At the same moment the bogghun stopped; and out from the surrounding coppice rushed the Princess Panka and her attendants.

“‘Where is my molasses candy?’ asked the bogghun. Three of the attendants presented him with three one-pound packages; and thus in a moment I understood the whole villanous plot. The Princess Panka rushed to where Polpetti lay, and snatched the golden nose-ring from her lovely nose. Fastening it in her own hideous snub, she sprang to her feet with a shrill yell of triumph. ‘At last!’ she cried,—‘at last I have it!’

“‘Hideous witch!’ I exclaimed. ‘You have no nose to wear it in! You are uglier than the blue-faced monkey, or the toad with three tails. The very sight of you makes the leaves drop off the trees with horror. You odious, squint-eyed—’

“‘Catch that parrot!’ shrieked the enraged Panka. ‘Wring that parrot’s neck! Pull his feathers out! Let me get at him!’

“I rose in the air, and flying round her head, continued—‘Snub-nosed, monkey-faced, bald-headed [this adjective was not exactly correct, but I was too angry to choose my words], hump-backedAnt-eater!!!’ and with the last word, the most opprobrious epithet that can be applied to an African, I gave the creature a peck in the face that sent her tumbling over backwards, and flew off among the trees. A storm of arrows followed me, but I escaped unhurt, and flying rapidly, was soon far away from the spot.”

“‘Hideous witch!’ I exclaimed.”

Here the parrot paused to take breath, having become quite excited in telling her story.

“Ahem!” said the woodchuck. “May I be permitted to ask a question, Miss Mary?”

“Certainly,” replied the parrot graciously. “What is it, Woodchuck?”

“Did I understand,” said the woodchuck cautiously, “that the bogghunnevertakes his tail out of his mouth?”

“Never!” replied the parrot. “Never, upon any occasion!”

“Then how,” asked Chucky, “did he eat the molasses candy?”

“Woodchuck,” said the parrot, with great severity, “the question does credit neither to your head nor to your heart. I decline to answer it!”

The woodchuck looked sulky, and scratched his nose expressively. The raccoon, who had been on the point of asking the same question himself, frowned at him, and said he was ashamed of him. “Pray continue your story, Miss Mary!” said he. “I assure you we are all, with perhapsoneexception [the woodchuck sniffed audibly], quite faint with excitement and suspense. What became of you after the Princess’s death?”

“I remained in the forest,” said the parrot. “I could not go back to the village without the Princess; the King would have put me to death if I had made my appearance.

“For some time I lived alone, associating as little as possible with the uneducated birds of the forest. At length, finding my life very solitary, I accepted the claw and heart of a rich and respectable green parrot, who offered me a good home and the devotion of a life-time. With him I passed several quiet and happy years; but finally we were both surprised and captured by a band of American sailors, who had penetrated to this distance in the forest in search of ivory. They treated us kindly, and carried us miles and miles till we came to a river, where other sailors were waiting with a boat. In this we embarked, and after rowing for several days, came to the mouth of the river, near which their ship was waiting for them.

“In the confusion of boarding, my husband managed to make his escape. He flew back to the shore, calling to me to follow him; but, alas! I was too closely guarded, and I never saw him again. He was a very worthy parrot, and a kind husband, though sometimes greedy in the matter of snails.”

The parrot sighed, meditated for a few moments, with her head on one side, on the virtues of her departed lord, and then continued,—

“My life on board ship was a very pleasant one. Petted and caressed by the sailors, I soon lost my shyness, and became once more accustomed to the society of men. I learned English quickly, and could soon whistle ‘Yankee Doodle’ and ‘Three Cheers for the Red, White, and Blue.’ One phrase I objected very much to repeating, ‘Polly wants a cracker.’ I disliked crackers extremely, and could not endure the name of Polly; but for some time I could not get anything to eat without making this stupid remark.

“One day I received a shock which nearly caused me to faint. I was sitting on the taffrail, watching two of my particular friends, Joe Brown and Simeon Plunkett, who were splicing ropes. They always spliced better, I noticed, when my eye was on them. They were talking about some adventure in the forest, and suddenly I caught the words, ‘golden nose-ring.’ I had been half dozing; but this roused me at once, and I began to listen with all my ears.”

“How many ears has she?” growled the woodchuck, in a low tone.

“Twenty-five,” replied the raccoon, in the same tone. “They are invisible to idiots, which is probably the reason why you have never noticed them.”

“‘How did you get that nose-ring?’ asked Joe Brown. ‘You have begun to tell me once or twice, and something has always stopped you. Were there many of them lying around? I shouldn’t mind having that myself.’

“Judge of my feelings when Simeon Plunkett, before replying, pulled out from the breast of his flannel shirt a huge golden ring, set with jewels,—theidentical golden nose-ring which had caused the death of my lovely Princess. I shuddered, and came very near falling from the taffrail; but, composing myself, I listened eagerly, and heard Simeon tell the other how, as he and his mates were returning to their boat (he had been with a second exploring party sent out from the ship), they found a well, and stopped to fish in it.”

“To fish in a well?” interrupted Bruin. “What did they do that for?”

“To see what they could catch,” replied the parrot. “What do people fish for in this country?

“The first thing they caught was the body of a young woman, with this golden ring in her nose. Her feet were up, and her head was down; and altogether, Simeon said, it was very evident that, in stooping over either to drink or to admire her beauty in the well, the weight of the ring had overbalanced her, and caused her to fall in.

“When I heard this news I flapped my wings and crowed, to the great astonishment of the two sailors. My enemy was dead, and Polpetti avenged. My joy was great, and I wanted to thank Simeon Plunkett for being the bearer of such good news; so I perched on his knee, and sang him the sweetest song I knew,—a song which had often brought tears to the eyes of my lost husband. But he only said, ‘Princess [they all called me Princess, I should observe], if any other bird made such a row as that, I’d wring its neck.’ The Americans, I find, have absolutelynoear for music.

“We reached America after a pleasant and prosperous voyage.

“But he only said, ‘Princess, if any other bird made such a row as that, I’d wring its neck.’”

“After that my adventures may be told in a few words. Joe Brown presented me, as a great treasure, to the captain’s wife, Mrs. Jeremy Jibb; but I found her a most unpleasant person to live with. She kept me in a cage,—a tin cage,—me, the favorite companion of the Princess Royal of Central Africa! She fed me on crackers, called me Polly all the time, and treated me in a most degrading manner generally. If I had been a canary-bird, her manner could not have been more insufferably patronizing. After enduring this life for several weeks, I managed to make my escape one day while Mrs. Jibb was cleaning my cage. After a long flight, I reached this forest, in whose pleasant retirement I have remained ever since. Here I find society and snails, both of excellent quality; and, with these, what more does one require? And here I hope to pass the remainder of my days.”

The parrot’s story, with the various pauses and interruptions, had occupied a good deal of time; and when it was finished the party broke up, promising to reassemble on the following day. Before they separated, Toto asked, as usual, who was to tell the next story.

“Tell it yourself, Toto,” said the wood-pigeon; and all the rest chimed in, “Yes, Toto shall tell the next himself.” So it was settled; and they all shook paws, and departed.

CHAPTER V.

Thenext day it rained, so the party of friends did not assemble as usual. The bear stayed in his cave, sucking his paw, and listening to the chatter of the squirrel, who came to spend the day with him. The raccoon, after one look at the weather, curled himself up in his tree-house and went to sleep. As for the woodchuck, he never woke up at all, for nobody came to wake him, and he could not do it for himself.

Poor Toto was very disconsolate. He never stayed indoors for an ordinary rain, but this was a perfect deluge; so he stood by the window and said, “Oh, dear! oh,dear!! oh,DEAR!!!” as if he did not know how to say anything else.

His good grandmother bore this quietly for some time; but at length she said, “Toto, do you know what happened to the boy who said ‘Oh, dear!’ too many times?”

“No!” said Toto, brightening up at the prospect of a story. “What did happen to him? Tell me, Granny, please!”

“Come and hold this skein of yarn for me, then,” replied the grandmother, “and I will tell you as I wind it.

“Once upon a time there was a boy—”

“What was his name?” interrupted Toto.

“Chimborazo,” replied the grandmother. “I should have told you his real name in a moment, if you had not interrupted me, but now I shall call him Chimborazo, and that will be something for you to remember.”

Toto blushed and hung his head.

“This boy,” continued the grandmother, “invariably put the wrong foot out of bed first when he got up in the morning, and consequently he was always unhappy.”

“May I speak?” murmured Toto softly.

“Yes, you may speak,” said the old lady. “What is it?”

“Please, grandmother,” said Toto, “whichisthe wrong foot?”

“Don’t you know which your right foot is?” asked the grandmother.

“Why, yes, of course,” replied Toto.

“And do you know the difference between right and wrong?”

“Why, yes, of course,” said Toto.

“Then,” said the grandmother, “you know which the wrong foot is.

“As I was saying, Chimborazo was a very unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and he said, ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!’ He said it till everybody was tired of hearing it.

“‘Chimborazo,’ his mother would say, ‘please don’t say, “Oh, dear!” any more. It is very annoying. Say something else.’

“‘Oh, dear!’ the boy would answer, ‘I can’t! I don’t know anything else to say. Oh, dear! oh,dear!! oh,DEAR!!!’

“So one day his mother could not bear it any longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother, and told her all about it.

“‘Humph!’ said the fairy godmother. ‘I will see to it. Send the boy to me!’

“So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging his head as usual. When he saw his fairy godmother, he said, ‘Oh, dear!’ for he was rather afraid of her.

“‘“Oh, dear!” it is!’ said the godmother sharply; and she put on her spectacles and looked at him. ‘Do you know what a bell-punch is?’

“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo. ‘No, ma’am, I don’t!’

“‘Well,’ said the godmother, ‘I am going to give you one.’

“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘I don’t want one.’

“‘Probably not,’ replied she, ‘but that doesn’t make much difference. You have it now, in your jacket pocket.’

“Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a queer-looking instrument of shining metal. ‘Oh, dear!’ he said.

“‘“Oh, dear!” it is!’ said the fairy godmother. ‘Now,’ she continued, ‘listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going to put you on an allowance of “Oh, dears.” This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it will ring whenever you say “Oh, dear!” How many times do you generally say it in the course of the day?’

“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘I don’t know. Oh,dear!’

“‘Ting! ting!’ the bell-punch rang twice sharply; and looking at it in dismay, he saw two little round holes punched in a long slip of pasteboard which was fastened to the instrument.

“‘Exactly!’ said the fairy. ‘That is the way it works, and a very pretty way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to make you a very liberal allowance. You may say “Oh, dear!” forty-five times a day. There’s liberality for you!’

“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo, ‘I—’

“‘Ting!’ said the bell-punch.

“‘You see!’ observed the fairy. ‘Nothing could be prettier. You have now had three of this day’s allowance. It is still some hours before noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed the allowance—’ Here she paused, and glowered through her spectacles in a very dreadful manner.

“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo. ‘What will happen then?’

“‘You will see!’ said the fairy godmother, with a nod. ‘Somethingwill happen, you may be very sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!’ And away she flew out of the window.

“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo, bursting into tears. ‘I don’t want it! I won’t have it! Oh,dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,DEAR!!!’

“Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!”

“‘Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-ting!’ said the bell-punch; and now there were ten round holes in the strip of pasteboard. Chimborazo was now really frightened. He was silent for some time; and when his mother called him to his lessons he tried very hard not to say the dangerous words. But the habit was so strong that he said them unconsciously. By dinner-time there were twenty-five holes in the cardboard strip; by tea-time there were forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was afraid to open his lips, for whenever he did the words would slip out in spite of him.

“‘Well, Chimbo,’ said his father after tea, ‘I hear you have had a visit from your fairy godmother. What did she say to you, eh?’

“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo, ‘she said—oh, dear! I’ve said it again!’

“‘She said, “Oh, dear! I’ve said it again!”’ repeated his father. ‘What do you mean by that?’

“‘Oh, dear! I didn’t mean that,’ cried Chimborazo hastily; and again the inexorable bell rang, and he knew that another hole was punched in the fatal cardboard. He pressed his lips firmly together, and did not open them again except to say ‘Good-night,’ until he was safe in his own room. Then he hastily drew the hated bell-punch from his pocket, and counted the holes in the strip of cardboard; there were forty-three! ‘Oh,dear!’ cried the boy, forgetting himself again in his alarm, ‘only two more! Oh,dear! oh,DEAR! I’ve done it again! oh—’ ‘Ting!TING!’ went the bell-punch; and the cardboard was punched to the end. ‘Oh, dear!’ cried Chimborazo, now beside himself with terror. ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,dear!! what will become of me?’

“A strange whirring noise was heard, then a loud clang; and the next moment the bell-punch, as if it were alive, flew out of his hand, out of the window, and was gone!

“Chimborazo stood breathless with terror for a few minutes, momentarily expecting that the roof would fall in on his head, or the floor blow up under his feet, or some appalling catastrophe of some kind follow; but nothing followed. Everything was quiet, and there seemed to be nothing to do but go to bed; so to bed he went, and slept, only to dream that he was shot through the head with a bell-punch, and died saying, ‘Oh, dear!’

“The next morning, when Chimborazo came downstairs, his father said, ‘My boy, I am going to drive over to your grandfather’s farm this morning; would you like to go with me?’

“A drive to the farm was one of the greatest pleasures Chimborazo had, so he answered promptly, ‘Oh,dear!’

“‘Oh, very well!’ said his father, looking much surprised. ‘You need not go, my son, if you do not want to. I will take Robert instead.’

“Poor Chimborazo! He had opened his lips to say, ‘Thank you, papa. I should like to goverymuch!’ and, instead of these words, out had popped, in his most doleful tone, the now hated ‘Oh, dear!’ He sat amazed; but was roused by his mother’s calling him to breakfast.

“‘Come, Chimbo,’ she said. ‘Here are sausages and scrambled eggs; and you are very fond of both of them. Which will you have?’

“Chimborazo hastened to say, ‘Sausages, please, mamma,’—that is, he hastened totryto say it; but all his mother heard was, ‘Oh,dear!’

“His father looked much displeased. ‘Give the boy some bread and water, wife,’ he said sternly. ‘If he cannot answer properly, he must be taught. I have had enough of this “Oh, dear!” business.’

“Poor Chimborazo! He saw plainly enough now what his punishment was to be; and the thought of it made him tremble. He tried to ask for some more bread, but only brought out his ‘Oh,dear!’ in such a lamentable tone that his father ordered him to leave the room. He went out into the garden, and there he met John the gardener, carrying a basket of rosy apples. Oh! how good they looked!

“‘I am bringing some of the finest apples up to the house, little master,’ said John. ‘Will you have one to put in your pocket?’

“‘Oh,dear!’ was all the poor boy could say, though he wanted an apple, oh, so much! And when John heard that he put the apple back in his basket, muttering something about ungrateful monkeys.

“Poor Chimborazo! I will not give the whole history of that miserable day,—a miserable day it was from beginning to end. He fared no better at dinner than at breakfast; for at the second ‘Oh, dear!’ his father sent him up to his room, ‘to stay there until he knew how to take what was given him, and be thankful for it.’ He knew well enough by this time; but he could not tell his father so. He went to his room, and sat looking out of the window, a hungry and miserable boy.

“In the afternoon his cousin Will came up to see him. ‘Why, Chimbo!’ he cried. ‘Why do you sit moping here in the house, when all the boys are out? Come and play marbles with me on the piazza. Ned and Harry are out there waiting for you. Come on!’

“‘Oh, dear!’ said Chimborazo.

“‘What’s the matter?’ asked Will. ‘Haven’t you any marbles? Never mind. I’ll give you half of mine, if you like. Come!’

“‘Oh,DEAR!’ said Chimborazo.

“‘Well,’ said Will, ‘if that’s all you have to say when I offer you marbles, I’ll keep them myself. I suppose you expected me to give you all of them, did you? I never saw such a fellow!’ and off he went in a huff.

“‘Well, Chimborazo,’ said the fairy godmother, ‘what do you think of “Oh, dear!” now?’

“Touching his lips with her wand.”

“Chimborazo looked at her beseechingly, but said nothing.

“‘Finding that forty-five times was not enough for you yesterday, I thought I would let you have all you wanted to-day, you see,’ said the fairy wickedly.

“The boy still looked imploringly at her, but did not open his lips.

“‘Well, well,’ she said at last, touching his lips with her wand, ‘I think that is enough in the way of punishment, though I am sorry you broke the bell-punch. Good-by! I don’t believe you will say “Oh, dear!” any more.’

“And he didn’t.”

CHAPTER VI.

Therain continued for several days; and though Toto, mindful of the sad story of Chimborazo, tried hard not to say “Oh, dear!” still he found the time hang very heavy on his hands. On the fourth day, however, the clouds broke away, and the sun came out bright and beautiful. Toto snatched up his cap, kissed his grandmother, and flew off to the forest. Oh, how glad he was to be out of doors again, and how glad everything seemed to be to see him! All the trees shook down pearls and diamonds on him (very wet ones they were, but he did not mind that), the birds sang to him, the flowers nodded to him, the sunbeams twinkled at him; everything seemed to say, “How are you, Toto? Hasn’t it been a lovely rain, and aren’t you glad it is over?”

He went straight to the forest pool, hoping to find some of his companions there. Sure enough, there was the raccoon, sitting by the edge of the pool, making his toilet, and stopping every now and then to gaze admiringly at himself in the clear mirror.

“Good-morning, Coon!” said Toto; “admiring your beauty as usual, eh?”

“Well, Toto,” replied the raccoon complacently, “my view of the matter is this: what is the use of having beauty if you don’t admire it? That is what it’s for, I suppose.”

“I suppose so,” assented Toto.

“And you can’t expect other people to admire you if you don’t admire yourself!” added the raccoon impressively. “Remember that! How’s your grandmother?”

“She’s very well,” replied Toto, “and she hopes to see you all this afternoon. She has made a new kind of gingerbread, and she wants you to try it. I have tried it, and it is very good indeed.”

“Your grandmother,” said the raccoon, “is in many respects the most delightful person I have ever met. I, for one, will come with pleasure. I can’t tell about the rest; haven’t seen them for a day or two. Suppose we go and hunt them up.”

“With all my heart!” said Toto.

They had not gone far before they met the wood-pigeon flying along with a bunch of berries in her bill.

“Where are you going, Pigeon Pretty?” inquired Toto; “and who is to have those nice berries? I am sure they are not for yourself; I believe you never get anything for yourself, you are so busy helping others.”

“These berries are for poor Chucky,” replied the wood-pigeon. “Ah, Coon,” she added reproachfully, “how could you hurt the poor fellow so? He is really ill this morning in consequence.”

“What have you been doing to Chucky, you naughty Coon?” asked Toto. “Biting his nose off?”

“Oh, no!” said the raccoon, looking rather guilty, in spite of his assurance. “Dear me, no! I didn’t bite itoff. Certainly not! I—I just bit it a little, don’t you know! it was raining, and I hadn’t anything else to do; and he wassosound asleep, it was a great temptation. But I won’t do it again, Pigeon Pretty,” he added cheerfully, “I won’t really. Take him the berries, with my love, and say I hope they will do him good!” and with a crafty wink, Master Coon trotted on with Toto, while Pigeon Pretty flew off in the opposite direction.

They soon arrived at the mouth of the bear’s cave, and looking in, saw the worthy Bruin quietly playing backgammon with his devoted friend Cracker. The latter was chattering as usual. “And soIsaid to him,” he was saying as Toto and Coon approached, “‘Ithink it is a mean trick, and I’ll have nothing to do with it. And what is more, I’ll put a stop to it if I can!’ So he said he’d like to see me do it, and flounced off into the water.”

“Humph!” said Bruin, “I never did think much of that muskrat.”

“What’s all this?” asked the raccoon, walking in. “Anything the matter, Cracker?”

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