"It is a fine automobile, if you do have to twist it often. We can have nice rides around the Lake."

But Limpy-toes would not be comforted.

"I wanted an automobile that would fetch Dr. Grand-daddy to his patients very quickly. I must study until I make better power than this clock spring. Ah, here is the key! We must hurry, or Uncle Squeaky will catch up and laugh to find us by the roadside."

Grand-daddy and Pa Field-Mouse were standing on the bungalow steps talking earnestly together when Limpy-toes drove up.

"A fine automobile, Pa Field-Mouse," said Grand-daddy, waving his paw. "My grandson is a great inventor; he will be famous some day."

"Ah!" cried Buster, "how good our Gray Rock Bungalow looks! See the pretty hemlocks and sweet ferns, Limpy."

"Wait until you see the fine house the neighbors have built for me!"

exclaimed Grand-daddy. "They felt sure that I would come. Silvy would call it Wild Rose Cottage. It is a real bower of roses. Here come our folk, now. Wait and I'll tell you all about it."

The heavy furniture cart was pulled down the last hill and stopped at the door of Gray Rock Bungalow. Grand-daddy held up his paw and hushed the merry chatter of the travellers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The heavy furniture cart was pulled down the last hill._]

"Listen!" he cried. "Do not unload my belongings. These kind woodfolk have made me a splendid house right at the center of their village. I want Limpy-toes to be my helper and stay with me. If Dot teaches school, she must come with us, for her scholars live near by. Granny needs Silvy to help with the housework. She and Dot can be together and when I need a nurse, Silvy will be right handy."

"A fine plan," agreed Uncle Squeaky, "only our family at the Gray Rock will be rather small."

"Limpy-toes will fetch us all over in the automobile every evening,"

smiled Silver Ears. "I shall love to help Granny and be with Dot. May Limpy-toes and I go, Mammy? You will not mind?"

"Surely you may go, dearie," smiled Mother Graymouse bravely. "You will be happiest where you can do the most good, and Granny needs you just now."

"With such a small family, Betsey and I can manage the work nicely," said Aunt Squeaky.

"Ah, it is good to get back to our woodland home!" cried Uncle Squeaky.

"Many paws will soon set our rooms in order. Then we will trot over to Wild Rose Cottage and help Dr. Whiskers get his pine-needle beds ready before moon-rise."

CHAPTER III

GRAND-DADDY BEGINS HIS WORK

"Good-morning to you, Grand-daddy!" said Uncle Squeaky cheerily the next morning. "How are all the folk at Wild Rose Cottage?"

"Nicely, Hezekiah, nicely," grinned Dr. Whiskers. "Dot and Silvy are helping Granny make our rooms cosy, and I am going to visit my first patient."

"I want Limpy-toes to go over to Polly-Wog Bridge and help get my boat afloat upon the Lake. I mean to catch some fish and have Belindy fry 'em for dinner."

"Limpy-toes has gone with Nimble-toes to fetch a load of wood. They will soon be at home. It is only a short walk to Sir Spider's house; I shall not need Limpy-toes this morning."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Will you walk into my parlor Dr. Whiskers?"_]

"Is Sir Spider ill?" asked Uncle Squeaky.

"Lady Spider has been cleaning her parlor. She is overtired and ailing and wishes to see me."

"Hm!" said Uncle Squeaky thoughtfully, "I heard Ruth Giant sing a song one day:

'Will you walk into my parlor, Said the Spider to the fly.'

"If I remember aright, that fly came to grief in Lady Spider's parlor.

Better watch out, Dr. Grand-daddy."

"Don't worry, Hezekiah, and good-day to you, for I must be on my way. I will keep out of Lady Spider's parlor."

Dr. Whiskers rapped upon Sir Spider's door. Lady Spider opened it.

"Will you walk into my parlor, Dr. Whiskers?" she said sweetly, as she held aside the cobweb draperies of her spick-and-span parlor.

Dr. Whiskers wanted to run away. Those were the very words that Uncle Squeaky had recited!

"Ah, well," he decided quickly, "as I am not a fly and have my stout cane in my paw, I'll be a brave doctor mouse and try to cure Lady Spider. Maybe she is not so sly as some folk think."

So he entered her pretty parlor, admiring the beautiful silken draperies.

"I am glad that you have come to our village, Dr. Whiskers," began Lady Spider, sitting beside him on the moss green divan. "We've had a hard time. Sir Spider lost one of his legs a while ago; but would you believe it--a new one has begun to grow! He feels better and is building a bridge across our brook. I'm just worn out with the Spring cleaning and spinning, and the care of my big family. My eyes ache all the time, Dr. Whiskers."

"Ah, yes! Spring fever, I've no doubt. I have been told that you are very busy,--a skillful weaver and splendid housekeeper. But my dear Lady Spider, health is better than silk draperies. I fear you strain your many eyes searching for dust and dirt. When my one pair of eyes get tired, I have a headache; with your many eyes, you must suffer much pain. But cheer up. I will give you some medicine and you will soon feel like a new Spider. Please fetch a gla.s.s of water."

Dr. Whiskers took a bottle of dried checker-berries from his bag. He dropped ten of them into the water.

"These red pills are a splendid tonic. Take a sip of the medicine several times each day and your many eyes will stop aching."

"I will follow your directions carefully, Dr. Whiskers," smiled Lady Spider. "Is there really to be a school where my little Webbie, Spinnie, Tony, and Patty can be taught the civilized ways of your learned family?"

"We have just arrived at the Lake and are hardly settled. There will soon be a school. My grand-daughter, Dot Squeaky, will be the teacher. A sweet young lady mouse she is, if I am her grand-daddy and maybe ought not to boast of her smartness. I must bid you good-day, Lady Spider. I will come in next week and see if you are better."

"A very pleasant call," thought Dr. Whiskers, as he trotted along the country road. "Lady Spider does not seem to be a harmful creature. h.e.l.lo!

Here I am at Squire Cricket's gateway. I must cure his sore throat."

Squire Cricket came to the door. He wore a red flannel around his neck and his voice was hoa.r.s.e as he greeted Dr. Whiskers.

"Nimble-toes said you needed some medicine," began Dr. Whiskers. "I see you are wearing the red flannel that Granny sent. She believes that red flannel will cure almost anything."

"It's no good," croaked Squire Cricket. "I've worn it ever since Nimble-toes fetched it, and I'm still as hoa.r.s.e as Grandpa Bull Frog."

"Ah well, if Mistress Cricket will fetch a gla.s.s of water, I will fix a gargle that will help you."

He sprinkled some salt into the water which Mistress Cricket brought.

"Now, Squire Cricket, if you will use this mixture, a spoonful every hour, and rub a little cure-all salve under your red flannel at night, we'll soon have your voice as clear as a lark's, and the soreness all gone. How many kiddies shall you send to my grand-daughter's summer school, Mistress Cricket?"