Grand-Daddy Whiskers, M.D.

Nimble-toes Field-mouse trotted briskly along the dark subway and up the steep attic stairway in Mr. Giant's house. He had travelled a long way from his woodland home and it was getting late. The door of the cosy attic where Cousin Graymouse lived was ajar. Nimble-toes paused to get his breath and peep in at the busy, happy family.
Mother Graymouse sat in her rocking-chair singing to little Squealer. Tiny, Teenty and Buster Graymouse were playing upon the floor near by with their cousins, Wink and Wiggle Squeaky. Aunt Squeaky and Uncle Hezekiah were busy around the stove. Grand-daddy and Granny Whiskers sat in the chimney corner waiting patiently for their supper.
From the pantry came Silver Ears Graymouse and Dot Squeaky, bringing food to the table.
I hope Limpy-toes Graymouse and Scamper Squeaky have not gone away, thought Nimble-toes.
Somebody stole softly up behind him; two paws blindfolded his eyes.
It is Limpy-toes, he guessed, trying to be brave in that dark, strange place.
Right you are, Nimble-toes, laughed Limpy-toes. Scamper and I have been over to the store to get some cheese. I thought you were a burglar, just at first. Push open the door and trot in.
It is Cousin Nimble-toes! cried a noisy chorus of little mice.
It is Nimble-toes Field-Mouse, sure as I'm a mouse! declared Uncle Squeaky. Welcome to our attic, my lad.
You must be hungry after your long tramp, Nimble-toes, said Mother Graymouse. Supper is all ready.
The little mice crowded around their cousin from the Pond Lily Lake country. They all talked at once, squealing excitedly and asking all sorts of questions, until poor Nimble-toes was bewildered.
At last he climbed upon a little red stool and shouted in Uncle Squeaky's ear: