“Now, I’ll tell you honestly,” said Little Mr. Thimblefinger, popping out from under Mr. Rabbit’s big armchair, “I don’t like such stories. They give me the all-overs. I expect maybe it’s because they are true.”  
“No doubt that’s the trouble with them,” remarked Mr. Rabbit in a tone unusually solemn. “You don’t think that at my time of life my tongue is nimble enough for me to sit here and make up stories to suit the hour and the company? By the bye,” he continued, turning around so as to catch Little Mr. Thimblefinger’s eye, “what stories were you talking about?”
 
“Well, to tell you the truth, I was fast asleep, for the most part, but I distinctly remember something about Moons and Monkeys. When I heard that, I just went off to sleep in spite of myself.”
 
“There’s no accounting² for tastes,” said Mr. Rabbit. “There are some tales that put me to sleep, and I have no complaint to make when anybody begins to doze³ over them that I tell.”
 
“Oh, you tell ’em well enough,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “If anything, you make them better than they ought to be. You lift your ears at the right place, and pat your foot when the time comes. I don’t know what more could be asked in telling a story.”
 
“So far so good,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, who had thus far said nothing. “Suppose you whirl in and tell us the kind of tale that you really admire.”
 
“That’s easier said than done,” replied Little Mr. Thimblefinger, fidgeting about a little. “You have to take the tales as they come. Sometimes one will pop into your head in spite of yourself. You remember it just because you didn’t like it when you first heard it.”
 
“Tell us one, anyway, just to pass away the time,” said Sweetest Susan.
 
“If I tell you one,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger replied, “I’ll not promise it will be one that I like. That would be promising⁴ too much. But the talk about the Moon, that I heard before I dozed⁵ off just now, reminded me of a tale I heard when I was a good deal smaller than I am now.
 
“Once upon a time there was a man who had two sons. They were twins, but they were just as different from each other as they could possibly be. One was dark, and the other was light complected. One was slim, and the other was fat. One was good, and the other was what people call bad. He was lazy, and full of fun and mischief⁶. They grew up that way until they were nineteen or twenty years old. The good boy would work hard every day, or pretend to work hard, and then he’d go back home and tell his mother and father that his brother hadn’t done a stroke of work. Of course, this made the old people feel very queer. The mother felt sorrowful, and the father felt angry. This went on, until finally, one day, the father became so angry that he concluded to take his bad son into some foreign country, and bind⁷ him out to some person who could make him work and cure him of his mischievousness⁸. In those days people sometimes bound out their children to learn trades and good manners and things of that sort.”
 
“I wish dey’d do it now,” exclaimed Drusilla. “Kaze den⁹ I wouldn’t hafter be playin’ nuss, an’ be gwine in all kind er quare places whar you dunner when ner whar you kin¹ git out.”
 
“Stuff!” cried Buster John. “Why don’t you be quiet and listen to the story?”
 
“It go long too slow fer ter suit me,” said Drusilla in a grumbling¹⁰ tone.
 
“Well,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, turning to Buster John, “you’ve come mighty¹² close to telling a part of the tale I had in my mind.”
 
“I don’t see how,” replied Buster John with some surprise.
 
“You said ‘stuff!’” responded Mr. Thimblefinger, “and that’s a part of my story. If you listen, you’ll soon find out. As I was saying, people in old times bound out their sons to some good man, who taught them a good trade or something of that kind. Well, this man that I was telling you about took his bad son off to a foreign country, and tried to find some one to bind him out to. They traveled many days and nights. They went over mountains and passed through valleys. They crossed plains, and they went through the wild woods.
 
“Now, the man who was taking his son into a foreign country was getting old, and the farther they walked, the more tired he grew. At last, one day, when they were going through the big woods, he sat down to rest near a tall poplar-tree, and, turning to his son, said angrily:—
 
“‘Stuff! you are not worth all this trouble. But for you I’d be at home now, enjoying myself and smoking my pipe.’
 
“The son, who was used to these outbreaks, made no reply, but stretched himself out on the dead leaves that littered the ground. He had hardly done so when there was a tremendous noise in the woods, and then both father and son saw rushing toward them an old man with a long beard, followed by a small army of fierce-looking dwarfs¹³ armed with clubs and knives and pikes. They rushed up and surrounded the father and son.
 
“‘Which of you called my name and abused me?’ cried the old man with the long beard.
 
“‘Not I,’ said the bad son.
 
“‘Not I,’ said the father. ‘I am sure I never saw you or heard of you before.’
 
“This made the old man more furious than ever. He fairly trembled with rage. ‘Didn’t I hear one of you say, “Stuff! but for you I’d be at home now enjoying myself, and smoking my pipe?”’
 
“‘I did say something like that,’ replied the father in great astonishment¹⁴.
 
“‘How dare you?’ cried the old man, beside himself with rage. ‘How did I ever harm you? Seize him!’ he said to his army of dwarfs. ‘Seize him, and bind him hard and fast! I’ll show him whether he can come into my kingdom and abuse me!’
 
“The father was speechless with astonishment, and made no attempt to prevent the dwarfs from seizing and binding¹⁵ him. They had him tied hard and fast before he could say a word, even if he had had a word to say. But by this time the son had risen to his feet.
 
“‘Wait!’ he cried, ‘let’s see what the trouble is! Who are you?’ he inquired, turning to the old man with the long beard.
 
“‘My name is Stuff,’ he replied, ‘and I am king of this country which you are passing through. I’m not going to allow any one to abuse me in my own kingdom. You may go free, but mind you go straight back the way you came.’
 
“The son thought the matter over a little while, and then turned on his heel and went back the way he had come, and, as he walked, he whistled all the lively tunes¹⁶ he could think of. For a time he was glad that his father was no longer with him to quarrel and complain; but finally he grew lonely, and then he began to think how his father had raised him up from a little child. The more he thought about this, the sorrier he was that he had given his father any trouble. He sat down on a log by the side of the road and thought it all over, and presently he began to cry.
 
 
 
“While he was sitting there with his head between his hands, crying over the fate of his father, a queer-looking little man came jogging along the road. He had bushy hair and a beard that grew all over his face, except right around his eyes and lips and the tip-end of his nose. His beard was not long, but it was very thick, and it stood out around his face like the spokes¹⁷ in a buggy-wheel. He seemed to be in a big hurry, but when he saw the young man sitting on the log crying, he stopped, and stared at him.
 
“‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘What’s all this? Who has hurt your feelings?’
 
“If the young man had not been so sorrowful, he would have been surprised to see the queer-looking little man standing¹⁹ by him. But, as it was, he didn’t seem to be surprised at all. He just looked at the stranger with red eyes.
 
“‘My name is Mum,’ said the stranger, ‘and I’m the Man in the Moon. Tell me your troubles. Maybe I can help you. I’m in a great hurry, because the Moon must change day after to-morrow, and I must be there to lend a hand; but I’ll not allow my hurry to prevent me from hearing your troubles and helping²⁰ you if I can.’
 
“So then and there the young man told his story, and the Man in the Moon sighed heavily when he heard it.
 
“‘I see how it is,’ he said. ‘You are young and thoughtless, and your father is old and crabbed²¹. You never thought of what you owed him, and he never made any allowances for your youth. He’s in no danger. I know old Stuff well. I’ve watched him many a night when he thought nobody had an eye on him, and he’s a pretty tough and cunning customer. You must have help if you get your father out of trouble.’
 
“‘What am I to do?’ asked the young man.
 
“‘Well,’ replied the Man in the Moon, ‘in the first place you will have to go home. Say nothing about the trouble your father is in. Just tell your mother that he has lost the sole of his shoe, and has sent you for the awl²² that is in the big red cupboard, a piece of leather, a handful of pegs²³, and a piece of wax.’
 
“‘What then?’ the young man inquired.
 
“‘Bring them here,’ said the Man in the Moon. ‘By the time you get back, I will have another holiday. We’ll put our heads together and see what can be done.’
 
“The young man made no delay. He was so anxious about his father that he started for home at once. It was a long journey, but he lost no time on the way. He was in rags and tatters when he reached home, but that made no difference to him. He took no time to eat, or to sleep, or to rest, but went to his mother at once, and told her that his father had lost the sole of his shoe, and had sent for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax.
 
“His mother asked him a great many questions, as women will, but all the answer the son would make was that his father had lost the sole of his shoe, and had sent for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax. Of course, the mother was very much worried. She finally came to the conclusion that some great calamity²⁶ had befallen her husband, and she went about crying and wringing²⁷ her hands, and declaring that they were all ruined; that her husband was dead; and that more than likely he had been murdered by this bad, bad son of hers, who had no other story to tell except to ask for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax.
 
“Now, the good son heard all this, but he said nothing. He just folded his hands and fetched a sigh or two, and seemed to be sorry for everything in general. But while the mother was going about wringing her hands and weeping, and the good son was heaving and fetching his sighs, the other son went to the big red cupboard. There on a shelf he saw the awl sticking in a cake of shoemaker’s wax. Near it was a strong piece of leather, and close by was a handful of shoe-pegs. He took these, changed his ragged²⁸ coat, and started back on his journey.
 
“Now, although the good son did nothing but sigh and look sorry, he had deep ideas of his own. The reason he was called the good son was because he was so cunning. He thought to himself that now would be a good time to do a fine stroke of business. He knew that his brother had something more on his mind than the awl, the leather, the pegs, and the shoemaker’s wax, and he wanted to find out about it. So he ran after his brother to ask him what the real trouble was. He caught up with him a little way beyond the limits of the village, but no satisfaction could he get. Then he began to abuse his brother and to accuse him of all sorts of things.
 
“But the son, who was trying to get his father out of trouble, paid no attention to this. He went forward on his journey, turning his head neither to the right nor to the left. The good brother (as he was called) followed along after the best he could, being determined²⁹ to see the end of the business. But somehow it happened that, on the second day, the brother who was going to meet the Man in the Moon was so tired and worn out that he was compelled to crawl under a haystack and go to sleep. In this way the good brother passed him on the road and went forward on his journey, never doubting that the other was just ahead of him. Finally, one day, the good brother grew tired and sat down on a log to rest. He sat there so long that the brother he thought he was following came up. He was very much surprised to see his nice and good brother sitting on a log and nodding in that country. So he woke him up and asked him what the trouble was.
 
“‘Stuff!’ cried the other, ‘you know you have made way with our father!’
 
“At once there was a roaring noise in the woods and a rustling³⁰ sound in the underbrush, and out came an old man with a long beard, followed by an army of dwarfs.
 
“‘How dare you abuse me in my own kingdom?’ he cried to the good brother. ‘How did I ever harm you?’
 
“The brother, who had seen this game played before, tried to explain, but King Stuff would listen to no explanation. He commanded his armed dwarfs to seize and bind the good brother, and they soon carried him out of sight in spite of his cries.
 
“Now, the young man who had gone home for the awl and the axe³¹ and the shoemaker’s wax was very much puzzled. He had more business on his hands than he knew what to do with. He saw that he must now rescue his brother as well as his father, and he didn’t know how to go about it. He had the awl and the axe and the shoemaker’s wax. He also had the shoe-pegs and leather that he found together. But what was he to do with them? He sat on the log and thought about it a long time.
 
“While he was sitting there, and just as he was about to go forward on his journey, he heard some one coming briskly down the road singing. He heard enough of the song to be very much interested in it. It ran thus:—
 
“‘With the awl and the axe
And the shoemaker’s wax,
And the pegs and the leather
That were found close together
Where the old man had fling’d ’em,
We’ll bore through and roar through;
We’ll cut down, we’ll put down,
This king and his kingdom.’
“Of course, it was the Man in the Moon who was coming along the road singing the song, and he seemed to be in high good humor. He caught sight of the solemn face of the young man and began to laugh.
 
“‘There you are!’ cried Mum, the Man in the Moon, ‘and I’m glad to see you; but I’d feel a great deal better if you didn’t look so lonesome. I don’t know what to do about it. Your face is as long as a hind³² quarter of beef.’
 
“‘I can’t help it,’ replied the young man. ‘I am in deeper trouble than ever. My brother has been carried off by the same people that captured my father.’
 
“‘What of it?’ exclaimed the Man in the Moon. ‘If you knew as much about that brother of yours as I do, you’d go on about your business, and let him stay where he is.’
 
“‘No,’ said the young man. ‘I couldn’t do that. I know he is my brother, and that is enough. And then there’s my father.’
 
“The Man in the Moon looked at the young man a long time, and finally said:—
 
“‘Since we are to have a sort of holiday together, maybe you won’t mind telling me your name.’
 
“‘Why, of course not,’ replied the young man. ‘My name is Smat.’
 
“The Man in the Moon scratched his head and then laughed. ‘It is a queer name,’ he said; ‘but I see no objection to it. I suppose it just happened so.’
 
“‘Now, I can’t tell you anything about that,’ replied Smat. ‘I was too young when the name was given to take any part in the performance. They seized me, and named me at a time when I had to take any name that they chose to give me. They named me Smat, and that was the end of it so far as I was concerned. They never asked me how I liked it, but just slapped the name in my face, as you may say, and left it there.’
 
“‘Well,’ said the Man in the Moon, ‘they’ll put another letter in the name when you get back home. Instead of calling you Smat, they’ll say you are Smart, and there’s some consolation³³ in that.’
 
“‘Not much as I can see,’ remarked Smat. ‘It’s all in your mouth, and what is in your mouth is pretty much all wind and water, if you try to spit it out. What I want now is to get my father and my brother out of the trouble that my mischief has plunged³⁴ them in. Please help me. They ought to be at home right now. There’s the corn to grind, and the cows are waiting to be milked, and the grain is to be gathered. Times are pretty hard at our house when everybody is away.’
 
“‘Very well,’ said the Man in the Moon. He had hanging by his side the horn of the new Moon, and on this h............