<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
<h3>OFF TO THE SEA-SHORE.</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Uncle
Jack</span> was as
good as his
word, and the
next morning
was a busy
time at the
Mouse-trap.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs101.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="373" alt="The Mice" title="" /></div>
<p>Trunks were packed, jackets were
brushed, and wonders were accomplished
in the way of getting ready before breakfast.
As I looked in my glass, there seemed to be only two rooms
in the house where there was no bustle and confusion: one was the
nursery, where Puff lay, half-awake and wondering what all the noise
was about; and the other was the room next to it, where my dear
little Fluff was kneeling by the bed, praying that her darling sister
might be "quite all perfectly well" very soon.</p>
<p>And now the carriage was announced; the "good-byes" were
softly whispered at the nursery door, and away went four of my mice,<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span>
leaving the poor old Mouse-trap quite deserted, with only Mrs. Posset
and the cook and faithful Tomty, beside the poor little sick
mouse.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs102.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="312" alt="Saying prayers" title="" /></div>
<p>A few hours journey on the train brought the travelers to the
lovely sea-shore place where Aunt Grace Wilton was spending the
summer: and what was their delight on leaving the train, to find
Aunt Grace herself waiting for them, with her basket-wagon, and
Max, the pretty black pony. I know Mrs. Wilton, though she does
not remember me. I used to pay her frequent visits when she was a
child, and now I go to see Roger, her little boy, who is a great friend
of mine, and a fine little fellow. He had the scarlet fever when he
was two years old, so that his mother had no fear of his taking it<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</SPAN></span>
again. Well how all those mice managed to get into that pony-carriage
is more than I can tell you: but they did manage it somehow,
and after bidding good-bye to their dear Uncle Jack, who was
going back in the next train, as he did not like to stay away from
Puff, they rolled away at a fine pace toward Glenwood, while Susan
followed in the carts with the trunks.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs103.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="296" alt="In a carriage" title="" /></div>
<p>A very pretty place Glenwood is, and very much delighted the
four mice were, when they tumbled out of the carriage, and saw
Roger waiting to welcome them. Here I will make a little picture
of Roger, by the way, as of course a great many of you have never
seen him.</p>
<p>"How do, Nibble?" he cried, jumping up and down with joy as
he saw his cousins. "How do, all of you! come and see my pets!<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</SPAN></span>
I-have-a-cat-and-some-birds-and-a-rabbit-and-a-lamb-because-I-haven't-any-brothers-and-sisters-you-know-and-a-dog—big-enough—to-eat-them-all-up-and-do-you-think-Puff-would-like-a-white-kitten?"</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs104.png" width-obs="173" height-obs="250" alt="Little boy" title="" /></div>
<p>Roger said all this as if it were one
word, and it was no wonder that the four
mice looked rather bewildered.</p>
<p>"Gently, Roger! gently!" said his
mother, laughing. "Your cousins cannot
understand a word you say, if you talk so
fast."</p>
<p>"I heard 'lamb' and 'kitten,' Auntie,"
said Fluff, sedately, "and I should like to
see them very much indeed."</p>
<p>"I want to go down to the beach, please, Auntie!" cried Nibble.</p>
<p>"And so do I!" said Brighteyes, eagerly.</p>
<p>"Very well, dears," said Mrs. Wilton; "you may run wherever
you like, if you are not tired. I shall take little Downy in the house
with me, for I see he is very sleepy, and wants a nap. But, my
chickens, don't you want some lunch before you go out to play?"
she added, turning back from the door.</p>
<p>"Oh! no, Auntie!" they all cried. "We had lunch in the train,
as much as we wanted."</p>
<p>And off they all scampered in different directions, while Mrs. Wilton
went into the house, carrying little sleepy Downy in her arms.
Fluff and Roger walked away hand in hand, and I tipped my glass
so that I could follow.</p>
<p>"Have you many pets, Fluff?" asked Roger.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"No!" replied Fluff. "We have only the three dogs, and <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Jose'">José</ins>,
the brown donkey, and the kitten that Brighteyes found in the tree.
But then we have a great many dolls," she added, "and I suppose
you have'nt any dolls, because you are a boy."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs105.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="273" alt="Fluff and Roger" title="" /></div>
<p>"Animals is better than dolls," said Roger. "Here is my lamb,
under this tree. Isn't he lovely? here, Belladonna, come and have
some sugar, dear!" The lamb, which was a very pretty one, came
up to be petted, and ate a lump of sugar with every sign of
approval.</p>
<p>"What did you say his name was?" asked Fluff.</p>
<p>"Belladonna," replied Roger, "because he wears a bell, you
know. <i>I</i> think it is a very pretty name, but Mamma laughs at it."</p>
<p>"It's medicine, isn't it?" said Fluff, doubtfully.</p>
<p>"Well, yes!" said Roger; "but that doesn't make any difference.
Rhubarb is medicine, too, and yet it makes nice pies and tarts."<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs106.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="278" alt="Playing with a lamb" title="" /></div>
<p>"So it does!" said Fluff; "I never thought of that. And have
your other
pets, medicine-names,
too, Roger?"</p>
<p>"The dog
is Blanco,"
replied
Roger. "I
called him
that before I
had him, because
I thought he was going to be white, and Blanco means
white. And then he went and was black when he came, but I don't
like to change names, so I called him so just the same. And I call
my cat Plunket, after the story of the Chattering Cat, and the rabbit
is Binks, and—oh! well, let us go in and see them, for they are all
in the play-room, and it is hot out here!"</p>
<p>And Roger led the way to the house, while Fluff followed meekly,
wondering, as she said afterwards to Brighteyes, how any one could
talk so fast without "getting his tongue all tied up with his teeth."</p>
<p>In the large, sunny play-room I left the two little ones, having a
grand game of romps with Blanco and Binks, while the birds, let
loose from their cage, fluttered about their heads, in no fear of the
well-behaved cat, who sat and looked at them as if she had no idea
that they were good to eat. Yes it was a regular Happy Family, and
a very pretty sight.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs107.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="373" alt="Playing with the dog, the cat and a bunny" title="" /></div>
<p>But I wanted to see what Nibble and Brighteyes were about, so I
turned my glass towards the beach, which was not far from the house,
though in the other direction. There I found my two eldest mice
deep in consultation. Nibble was just saying, "but, Bright, mermaids
don't have legs and tails, too, for that would be ridiculous.
Don't you remember?</p>
<div class='poem'>
'The little white mermaidens live in the sea,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a palace of silver and gold.</span><br/>
And their neat little tails are all covered with scales,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most beautiful for to behold.'</span><br/></div>
<div class='unindent'>But it doesn't say anything about legs, and there aren't any in the<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</SPAN></span>
pictures." "I can't help it, Nibble!" replied Brighteyes, rather
pettishly. "I can't cut off my legs, and I <i>am</i> going to play mermaid.
I can be the queen, and queens have everything they want, I
know." And she turned round, displaying to my view a superb tail
of seaweed, fastened to her sash, and trailing upon the ground.</div>
<p>"Well," said Nibble, "it is a lovely tail, after all. But we must
take off our shoes and stockings, and put them in the fort for safe
keeping. Then we can play 'wild white horses' and 'mermaid'
too."</p>
<p>The shoes and stockings were soon off, and safely hidden in a sand
fort of very superior construction. Then began a wild rushing up
and down the smooth sandy beach, with much neighing and kicking
on Nibble's part, while Brighteyes waved her seaweed tail in a graceful
and effective manner, and sang her song of the mermaids.</p>
<div class='poem'>
"On wild white horses they ride, they ride,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in chairs of pink coral they sit,</span><br/>
They swim all the night, with a smile of delight,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never feel tired a bit."</span><br/></div>
<p>"Look!" said Nibble, "at that line of rocks running out into the
water. What fun to jump from one to the other! come on, Brighteyes!"
No sooner said than done. It was no easy matter to jump
from one smooth slippery rock to the next, without losing foothold,
but that made it all the more exciting.</p>
<p>"I am the Nixie!" said Brighteyes, "and you are the knight who
caught her asleep and cut off one of her golden ringlets, so that she
could not disappear or turn into a fish. Sing, now, and catch me if
you can!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs108.png" width-obs="366" height-obs="500" alt="ON THE BEACH." title="" /> <span class="caption">ON THE BEACH.</span></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>She sprang lightly to the next rock, and thence to the next, while
Nibble, pursuing her, sang:</p>
<div class='poem'>
"Nixie, white Nixie, I have you now!<br/>
The magic ringlet is clipped from your brow.<br/>
You vanish no more 'neath the shining tide,<br/>
And I have you and hold you, my snow-white bride!"<br/></div>
<p>Brighteyes sang again:</p>
<div class='poem'>
"Hunter, rash hunter, your triumph's not long,<br/>
Your arm drops down 'neath the spell of my song.<br/>
You turn to ice and you turn to stone,<br/>
And the sea-waves laugh as they hear you moan."<br/></div>
<p>Here the Nixie waved her tail triumphantly, and flirted it in the
hunter's face in a way that was too provoking to be endured. The
rash youth sprang forward, alighting on the rock and on the Nixie's
toe at the same instant. There was a moment of shrieking and
clutching at the air, as they tried to regain their balance, and then
with a loud splash, pursuer and pursued disappeared beneath the
water.</p>
<p>This was really past a joke, and I became much alarmed. As for
Bmfkgth, that excellent dog was quite frantic with excitement, and
his green hair stood on end, causing him to present a truly remarkable
appearance. In another minute, however, we saw the two
brown heads emerge from the water; Nibble clambered up the rock,
and pulled his sister up after him; then breathless and dripping,
they jumped and climbed back over the long line of rocks, till they
reached the shore. They sat down on the beach and looked at each
other in silence for a few minutes. Then Nibble said, "I say,
Brighteyes, ain't you just glad that Mrs. Posset isn't here? look at<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</SPAN></span>
your frock, now!" "Oh! I don't want to look at it!" said Brighteyes;
"and besides your knickerbockers are just as bad. But we
have lost our hats, Nibble, and they were our best ones. We ought
to have taken them off when we took off our shoes and—but,
goodness me! where <i>are</i> our shoes and stockings? Nibble, where
is the fort? I don't see it anywhere."</p>
<p>Indeed, it would have been strange if they had seen it, for the
rising tide had completely covered it some fifteen minutes before.
As for the shoes and stockings—"Look, Bright!" said Nibble,
grasping his sister's arm, and pointing to the water. Yes, sure
enough, there they were. Far out of reach, floating serenely along,
the boots nodding a graceful farewell to their former owners as the
little waves bore them off on their voyage of discovery, while the
stockings, less courageous, had yielded to despair, and floated limp
and piteous, stretching out their scarlet length in a vain appeal for
rescue.</p>
<p>This last blow completely sobered the bold spirits of my two mice,
and as the loud ringing of a bell proclaimed that dinner-time was
come, they turned silently and mournfully towards the house.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'> <table class="bee" summary="bee">
<tr><td align='left'><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>
<div class='poem'>
A bee came tumbling into my ear,<br/>
<br/><br/>
And what do <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'you he think'">you think</ins> he remarked, my dear?<br/>
<br/><br/>
He said that two tens made up a score,<br/>
<br/><br/>
And really and truly, I knew that before.<br/></div>
<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></td>
</tr></table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />