"What did they have _that_ morning?" interrupted Puff.

"Cod's head and shoulder!" replied Mrs. Posset. "And then she called her sisters; and when they had eaten their breakfast, they all went out and played for the rest of the day.

"Well, my dears, as I'm telling you, on Wednesday, the third little girl--dear! dear! what was her name now? I seem to forget--"

"Hold-your-tongue!" cried Fluff, eagerly.

"Well! well!" said Mrs. Posset, pretending to be very much vexed. "To think of your having no better manners than that, Miss Fluff! telling me to hold my tongue, indeed! not another story will you get from me to-day, I promise you!"

This was a favorite joke of Mrs. Posset's, I found, and the children were never tired of it, though they knew that the little story went no further than "Hold your tongue!" They were still laughing over it, when they heard a loud scream from below, followed by a heavy fall, and a crash as of broken china. For a moment they all looked at each other in silence, startled by the shock; then Mrs. Posset put Downy off her knee, and flew down stairs, followed by the three little mice, all eager to know what had happened. Uncle Jack had heard the noise in his study, and Susan had heard it in the kitchen; in fact, the whole household was roused, and all turned their steps towards the school-room, where Nibble and Brighteyes were. Uncle Jack was the first to open the door, and when he looked into the room, he saw--see! I will draw you a picture.

_This_ is what he saw. Nibble was lying on the floor, apparently half-stunned, while near him lay the fragments of a china teapot; and all around on the floor, were scattered gold coins, large and small, hundreds and hundreds of them. Every one stood astonished, very naturally, and no one was more astonished than Master Nibble himself. As soon as he recovered his composure a little, he sat up on Uncle Jack's knee, and told his story, very much in these words:

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"It was all my geography lesson, Uncle!" said Nibble. "I played I was Christopher Columbus, so that I should like it better, and I learned it all, every word of it. But I finished before Mr. Colburn had written his books, so I--"

"Stop! stop! Nibble!" cried Uncle Jack. "Who is Mr. Colburn, pray? and what has he to do with your geography lesson?"

"Why, he is Brighteyes!" said Nibble. "To make her like her arithmetic lesson, don't you know?"

"Oh! indeed!" said Uncle Jack. "Go on, Christopher!"

"So," continued Nibble, "I thought I would go on a voyage of discovery, a _real_ voyage. And I saw that little trap door in the ceiling, that you said must be an old sky-light covered over--"

"And that I forbade you to meddle with," said Uncle Jack, quietly.

"Well, yes, Uncle, I know you did. But if Columbus had minded what other people said, would he ever have found America?"

"Humph!" said Uncle Jack, trying to suppress a smile. "Well, sir?"

"Well, sir," responded Nibble, "so I thought I would sail for that port.

I climbed up on some things" (I should say he did! there was a heap of tables and chairs, desks and books, sofa-pillows and coal-scuttles, under the open trap-door, which was enough to frighten one,) "and got into it. It was a kind of an attic place, Uncle, all beams and rafters and cobwebs. I crept in ever so far on my hands and knees, and in the farthest corner I found a heap of queer old clothes all covered with dust; coats and hats, and all sorts of things. I knew they must belong to the queer old man Tomty told us about, who used to live here, and I thought it would be great fun to bring them down and dress up in them. I lifted some of them, and heard something rattle underneath: then I looked, and found that old teapot, hidden away under a great beam. It was very heavy, and the cover was fastened on with sealing-wax, so I was going to bring it down to you; but my foot slipped, and--" "And you came down rather faster than you meant to?" said Uncle Jack.

"Dear to goodness, sir!" cried Mrs. Posset, who had been picking up the gold pieces, and had her ap.r.o.n full of them. "It's my belief that this is neither more nor less than old Jonas Junk's treasure, of which the neighbors talk so much."

"It certainly is, Mrs. Posset!" replied Uncle Jack. "And I think we must always call Nibble Christopher Columbus, for he certainly has made a great discovery!"

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CHAPTER VIII.

A STORY CHAPTER.

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IT was quite late one evening when I slipped in at a window in the Mouse-trap, to pay a visit to Nibble and Brighteyes. Nibble's bed, a most intelligent piece of furniture, walked in from the other room of its own accord, as soon as I appeared, so I had not even the trouble of calling it. As for the two mice, they fairly squeaked with delight when they saw me. "Oh! Mr. Moonman!" they cried, "we thought you were never coming again! where have you been all this long, long time?"

"It is only a week since I last came, little mice!" I replied; "and indeed, I should have been here oftener, but two of my pet children have been ill, and I have been telling them stories every night, to make the time pa.s.s more quickly."

"Oh! tell us about them, and tell us their names, and tell us the stories you told them!" cried Brighteyes eagerly.

"And take us on another journey, oh! _please_!" added Nibble, jumping up and down, with excitement.

"How is a poor Moonman to do everything at once?" I inquired. "In the first place, there will be no traveling to-night, let me tell you. A very disagreeable Wind has the watch to-night, and I would not trust you in his hands. Yes, he is a detestable fellow, very different from our seven little friends of the other night. He actually tried to blow out my lantern, which is a piece of impudence I have seldom met with. You shall hear a story about him if you will, for only last night I was telling one to Marie and Emil."

"Yes! yes!" cried the mice; "we should like it above all things. But first tell us a little about Marie and Emil. Are they the two children who have been ill?"

"Yes," I replied; "they are French children, and they live in a sea-board town in the south of France,--that is, they live there about half the time: the other half they spend on the water, in their father's yacht. Their father is a rich man, who has a pa.s.sion for the sea, and likes to spend most of his time on it: and he takes his little boy and girl with him on many of his yacht voyages, for they are as fond of the water as he is, and they have no mother."

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"Oh!" sighed Nibble, "I wish Uncle Jack had a yacht, and a pa.s.sion for the sea!"

"That would be admirable!" said I. "Two children on a yacht are all very well, but if there were five, the captain and all the crew would jump overboard and drown themselves, I fancy. Certainly, Marie and Emil are very happy on board the Victoria. Marie has a cabin of her own, the prettiest little room you can imagine, where she sits and reads, or swings in her hammock, when she is tired of staying on deck. The sailors are all devoted to them, and now that they are ill on sh.o.r.e, the big captain, Jacques Legros, goes every day up to the house, to ask if 'the little angels are better?'"

"What is the matter with them?" asked Brighteyes; "and shall we have the story now, if you please?"

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"You shall have the story now!" I said, "and they have had the scarlet fever, but are doing very well. Hear that angry Wind outside! how he howls, and shakes the window-frame. He knows that I am going to tell you about his misdeeds. Howl away, my friend; you can do us no harm. So then I told the mice the following story. First, however, I showed them a picture of Marie, which I happened to have in my pocket. They thought she was a very pretty little girl. What do you think?"

THE STORY OF THE WIND.

The great Tree stood out in the green meadow, all alone. No other trees dared to come near him, he was so strong, and tall, and grand; but for all that, he was kind and gentle, and never would hurt anything. One morning the great Tree awoke from his long winter sleep, and found the snow all gone, and the sun shining bright and warm as if it were June instead of the first of April. On his branches were sitting a flock of little birds, and it was their chirping and twittering that had waked him. "Chippity-wippity pip pip, cheepy peepy weep wee-e-e!" they said; and that meant "Wake up, old Tree! Spring has sent us to call you. She is coming directly, and she wants you to get your leaves out as soon as possible, as she has forgotten her parasol, and wants some shade for her pretty head."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MARIE.]

The great Tree nodded his head, and said, "Tell my lady Spring that I will be ready." And then he shook his branches, and called out, "Little leaves, little children, open your buds and come out! come out!" And one by one the little buds with which the branches were covered opened, and out popped the little leaves. At first they shivered, and wished themselves back in their warm little houses; but the old Tree spoke kindly to them, and then the sunbeams came and kissed them, so that they felt quite happy, and even began to dance about a little on the branches. And they said to each other, "How foolish we were, to think of shutting ourselves up again in those close houses. Here we shall be free and happy, and we will dance all day and all night."

Just then they heard a soft voice whispering, "Little leaves, lovely leaves, will you not dance with me?" And the little leaves said, "Who are you, that whispers so softly?" And the voice answered, "I am the Wind, and I have come to be your playfellow. I can sing, too, and sweetly, and we shall all be happy together." So the Wind sang them a low, sweet song; and then he danced with them, and kissed them gently, and played with them; and they all said, "Oh, dear, gentle Wind, how charming you are! will you not play with us every day, and make us happy?"

But after the Wind had flown away, the old Tree called to them and said, "My children, beware of the Wind, for he is not to be trusted. Soft and gentle he is to-day, but to-morrow he may be fierce and terrible. Play with him and dance with him, but be always on your guard." And the little leaves nodded their little heads, and answered, "Yes, good father, we will be careful."

Well, for many days the Wind came to play with the leaves, and every day they thought him more delightful. Such wonderful stories as he told them! of all the strange countries he had seen in his wanderings; the beautiful tropical islands, where he slept all day in the palm-tree tops, just waking in the evening to fan the cheeks of the dark-eyed southern ladies for an hour, and then sinking to sleep again under the shining stars; and the terrible northern seas, with their fleets of icebergs, whose pilot he loved to be, guiding them hither and thither, tossing the waves about, and sporting with the seals and walruses on the flat ice-cakes. "And some day, little leaves," he said, "you shall go with me to see these wonders; not to the arctic seas, for you are too tender and delicate to bear the cold; but away to the south, to the coral islands and the orange-groves. There you will see all the beauty of the world, and will laugh at the thought of having been content in this dull meadow, with its stupid daisies and b.u.t.tercups, and its paltry little brook. Also you will find many cousins there, leaves such as you never dreamed of, wonderful in size and shape and color. Say, then, little playmates, will you come with me, and see all these beautiful things, and many more?"

But the leaves shook their little heads, and said, "No, dear Wind! we love you, and it would be delightful to go with you, but we cannot leave our father Tree, who is so kind to us, and loves us so dearly."

At first the Wind seemed angry, but soon he smiled and said, "Never mind! some day you will come,--some day!" and away he flew. But oh! the next time he came, what a different Wind he was! no longer gentle, playful, caressing, but fierce, and rough, and stormy. He rushed at the great Tree, howling furiously. He seized the little leaves, and whirled and dashed them about, trying to tear them from the branches; and flung himself against the Tree, as if he would even loose his rooted hold on the ground. But the leaves clung closer and closer, trembling and shivering; and the great Tree braced himself, and met the fierce blast bravely, never losing an inch of his foothold, and giving back blow for blow with his long powerful arms. At last the Wind was tired and flew away, howling and moaning with anger and disappointment. The little leaves were sadly frightened, but their father Tree comforted them, and said, "Courage, my children! I have fought many a battle with the Wind, and he has never beaten me yet. Only be brave and faithful, and he cannot overcome you."

At first the leaves thought they never wanted to see or hear the Wind again; but a few days after, to their great surprise, he came again, soft and gentle, as he had used to be, and he kissed them and sang to them, and begged them to forgive his wicked temper, and play with him once more. He was so charming that they soon forgave him, and soon forgot all about the storm. And they danced and frolicked about gayly, and listened again to the marvelous tales of far-off countries, of palm-groves and coral islands.

So the time went on and on. The Lady Spring had gathered her green robes about her and pa.s.sed on, and her children, the wildwood blossoms, had followed her; and now Lady Summer, who had come in her stead, with her arms full of peaches and pears, and her gown covered with lovely garden flowers, was almost ready to depart, and stayed lingering, calling and beckoning to her brother Autumn, who was following very slowly. The leaves on the great Tree had been very happy during Lady Summer's reign.

Many a time, it is true, the Wind had been angry with them, because they refused to go away with him, and again and again he had raged and stormed, and tried to tear them away from their happy home. But he was always very sorry after these fits of pa.s.sion, and they always forgave him readily, for they loved him dearly.