Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, was hopping through the woods one day, and he was thinking of making his way over to the other side of the forest, where the real boys and girls lived, hoping he might have an adventure, when, all at once, Mr. Longears heard some voices talking behind a mulberry bush. "I know what we can do," said the voice of a boy, as Uncle Wiggily could tell, for he had learned to know the talk of boys and girls.
"What can we do?" asked the voice of another boy.
"We can pick up a lot of stones," went on the first boy, "and we can make believe we're hunters, and we can walk through the woods and throw stones at the birds, and squirrels, and rabbits! Come on! Let's do it!"
"Oh, no! I don't want to do that," said the second boy. "It isn't any fun to throw stones at birds and bunnies. If you hit a mother bird, and break her wing, she can't take anything to eat to the little birds, and they'll starve."
[Pg 114] "Pooh! That's nothing!" exclaimed the first boy, and Uncle Wiggily peeked over the top of the bush to see what manner of boys these were. But the bunny rabbit gentleman kept himself well hidden.
"I don't want any stones thrown at me," he thought.
"And," went on the second boy, who seemed rather kind, "if you throw a stone at a rabbit you might break its leg, and then it couldn't hop home to the baby rabbits."
"That is very true!" thought Uncle Wiggily, who was listening to all that went on. "I wish there were more boys like this kind one."
"Well, I don't care!" grumbled the first boy. "I'm going off and throw stones at birds and rabbits and squirrels!"
"And I'm going home," said the second boy. "I don't feel very good. I have a pain in my cheek and maybe I'm going to have the toothache."
"Goodness me, sakes alive! I hope nothing like that happens to such a kind boy," thought Uncle Wiggily. "And as for that other chap, I'll run ahead of him, through the woods, and tell my friends to hide so he can't throw stones at them."
So, while one boy went home and the other picked up some stones, Uncle Wiggily skipped along through the woods, calling, in his animal talk, to his friends to hide themselves.
"For a boy is coming to stone you!" exclaimed the bunny rabbit gentleman. "Hide! Hide away from the stone-throwing boy!"
And so it happened that when the unkind chap came tramping through the woods, the only bird he saw to stone was an old black crow, as black as black could be.
[Pg 115] "I'll hit you!" cried the boy, as he threw a stone.
But the crow was a wise old bird, and wastn't even afraid of the scary, stuffed men that farmers put in their cornfields. So the crow dodged the stone and then he laughed at the boy.
"Haw! Haw! Haw!" laughed the old black crow. "Haw! Haw! Haw!"
The boy grew very cross at this, and threw more stones, and some fell among the flower bushes where some bees were gathering the sweet juices of flowers to make into honey. One stone knocked a bee off a blossom, and spilled the honey it was gathering.
"Just for that I'm going to sting that boy!" buzzed the bee. Out it flittered, making such a zipping sound around that boy's head as to cause the bad chap to drop his stones and run away. So the bee did not have to sting him after all.
"Boys are no good!" buzzed the bee to Uncle Wiggily, as the honey chap flew back to the flowers.
"Oh, some boys are good," said the bunny gentleman. "The boy who was with this bad chap was good, and kind to animals. And that reminds me; this boy said he didn't feel very well. I must hop over to-morrow, and take a look at his house. I know where he lives. I hope he isn't going to have the toothache."
But the kind boy, as I call him just for fun, you know, had something worse than the toothache. His neck and jaws began to swell in the night, and he could hardly swallow a drink of water which his mother gave him when she heard him tossing in bed.
"What you s'pose is the matter of me, Mother?" asked the boy. [Pg 116]
"Well," said Mother, as she smoothed his pillow, "perhaps you caught cold in the woods to-day."
But it was worse than that. When the Doctor came in the morning, and looked at the boy, and gently felt of his neck (even which gentle touch made the boy want to cry) the Doctor said:
"Hum! Mumps!"
"Did you say 'bumps,' Doctor?" asked the boy's mother. "Did he fall down and bump himself?"
"No, I said mumps!" exclaimed the doctor. "That's a swelling inside his neck, and it will hurt him a lot. But if you keep him in bed, and warm, and give him easy things to eat, he'll soon be all right again."
"Poor boy!" murmured Mother. "Well, I suppose mumps are better than bumps!"
"I'm not so sure about that," spoke the Doctor as he walked to the door with the boy's mother. "Whatever you do," he said in a whisper, "don't give him anything sour—such as lemons or pickles. Sour things make the mumps pain more than ever. Don't even speak of vinegar in front of him, or so much as whisper it!"
"I won't," promised Mother.
But the boy's little sister overheard what Doctor and Mother were saying, and, being a mischievous sort of girl, she decided to have some fun. At least she called it fun.
"I'm going to stand in front of Brother and hold up a pickle so he can see it," said Sister to herself. "I want to see what he'll do!"
So Sister hurried down to the kitchen and brought up a pickle. [Pg 117] Then she went in the room where Brother was in bed and, holding the sour pickle in front of him, called:
"Look!"
And, no sooner did the boy look than he felt a sharp pain in his throat, almost as bad as toothach............