Grand-Daddy Whiskers, M.D. | Page 9

"I fear you have outgrown your band suit, Buster," said Mother
Graymouse. "I shall have to give you less to eat."
"Ah no, Mammy!" cried Buster in alarm. "Please don't starve me. Oh!
oh! What Robert Giant realty said was:
"'Peter picked a pint of pickled pipers.'"
"What's pipers, Buster?" asked Tiny.
"I don't know; prob'ly something good to eat. It was one of Robert's
funny songs, twinnie. I can make nicer songs myself," bragged Buster.
"All ready for the concert!" shouted Uncle Squeaky.
Wink and Buster found their cornets; Limpy-toes brought his flute,
Wiggle his fife, Scamper the alto horn, and Nimble-toes his beloved
drum. At a signal from Uncle Squeaky, the little band began to play
Silvy's Waltz.
It was late when they had played all the music they could remember.
The moonlight cast long shadows over the dewy grass and even the
Frog Orchestra was hushed and listening.
[Illustration: _The little band began to play Silvy's Waltz_.]
"Now your Uncle Hezekiah will play a goodnight jig." Uncle Squeaky
hopped nimbly up and played such a jolly tune upon his fiddle that they
all joined paws and danced in a circle about him.
"Enough! enough, Hezekiah!" panted Grand-daddy at last. "We must
rest if we expect to build a bungalow tomorrow. I shall not be Dr.
Whiskers, but just a good neighbor mouse tomorrow. I reckon my
patients can wait while I have one vacation day. Hurrah for a holiday
and a fine new house for Neighbor Field-Mouse! Come, Granny, we're
homeward bound. Fetch the automobile, Limpy-toes. I hope the twistity

will not give out. Good-night, folkses, goodnight!"
CHAPTER VI
DR. WHISKER'S BUSY DAY
Neighbour Field-Mouse's new bungalow was begun before sunrise next
morning. Squire Cricket and Daddy Grasshopper brought their saws,
Jack Rabbit and Mr. Hop Toad had shovels, and all the neighbors came
with axes, hammers and other tools ready for work.
"Pa Field-Mouse has chosen this spot under the laurel bush," explained
Uncle Squeaky. "First we must dig a cellar where he can store his
winter's food."
"Don't forget that I want a stone fireplace just like yours, Mr. Squeaky,"
reminded Debby Field-Mouse. "And a dining-room, also, if you
please."
"Ah, yes, Debby! A good living-room, a big pantry--you shall have all
the fixings."
They worked busily away. By-and-by, Grand-daddy Whiskers paused
to look around.
"It looks pretty fine already," he declared. "I'm having a great vacation
day. Plenty of fresh air, sunshine, pine breezes and vigorous exercise
make a mouse feel good, Neighbor Field-Mouse. I suppose there will
not be much work for old Dr. Whiskers in this healthy country in
summertime, because--"
"Dr. Whiskers! Dr. Whiskers!" interrupted Nimble-toes, "this little
Skunk says that old Simon Skunk has a dreadful attack of asthma and
wants you to come quick."
Down went Grand-daddy's ax, and away he trotted to Gray Rock
Bungalow where he had left Granny and his medicine bag.

"Did you say Simon Skunk was ill?" asked Granny in alarm. "Don't
you go a step, Zenas. Remember your solemn promise to fetch us all
safe and sound to our attic home before snow flies. How will you do it,
I want to ask you, Zenas Whiskers, if Simon Skunk harms you?"
"Better keep away from that Skunk tribe," advised Aunt Squeaky.
Even Mother Graymouse, who was usually so brave, looked anxious.
"Everyone says that Simon is ill-natured. He is a giant beside you,
Grand-daddy," she said.
Grand-daddy grew impatient. "I was wondering whether I wished to
visit Simon, but I'll be blamed, Hezekiah, if I'm going to be bossed by a
lot of women mice! A doctor must be brave. I'll risk it. I'm on my way
to Skunk Avenue," and away marched Grand-daddy.
Mrs. Dinah Skunk was watching for Dr. Whiskers.
"Oh, hurry!" she cried. "Simon has wheezed all night and can hardly
breathe."
"A strange time o' year to have asthma, Simon," grinned Dr. Whiskers.
"Wheezes mostly come in cold weather."
"Too much woods smoke," gasped poor Simon.
"Ah, I see! Well, let me rub this grease into your chest. You must take
two of these pills every half hour until you stop wheezing."
"Haven't any clock," growled Simon.
"How shall I know when to give him the pills, doctor?" asked Dinah.
Grand-daddy scratched his head. He did not wish to lend his watch.
"It takes half an hour to trot from here to Polly-Wog Bridge and back,"
he decided. "Send a little Skunk to the bridge and give Simon two pills
every time the little Skunk gets home. It will keep that little Skunk out

of mischief who set the fire.
"One of my ancestors," went on Dr. Whiskers pleasantly, "a
great-great-great-grandfather, was a mouse of the wilds, a regular
Indian. He told his children, and the story was repeated until it came