GRANDPA AND THE MOUSE.
Grandpa Crane went into the city every morning. He had to go so far, and it was so late when he came home to dinner, he thought he would like to have something to eat while he was away.
So every day, when he was ready to go to the cars, Aunt Emmie gave him a little basket with a pretty round cover on it.
Inside she put cookies or gingerbread, or plum-cake with ever so many plums in it. Grandpa liked the plum-cake best of all the little basket carried.
The office he sat in was down on a wharf, where the water comes, and the wind blows, just as if it were out at sea.
When he had been there a long while, he would get his basket, and eat what Aunt Emmie had put in it. As he was old, his hand would shake, and let bits of cake fall on the floor.
Now, a little gray mouse lived in a hole in that very floor, way up in a corner. His bright eyes peeped out at Grandpa Crane when he was eating; and he looked as though he would like to get those good bits if he could muster courage to do it.
One day mousie was so hungry, that he made bold to run at a crumb which had fallen a good way from grandpa's feet. He picked it up as quick as he could, and scampered back with it to his safe little hole.
Finding that grandpa did him no hurt, mousie tried it another day. After a while, he came out every time he saw grandpa open the little basket, and picked up all the crumbs that fell down.
One day grandpa was very tired, and fell fast asleep after he had eaten his cake. Pretty soon he felt a pull at his soft white hair. He put up his hand, and down ran mousie.
Not getting as much to eat that day as he wanted, mousie had just walked up grandpa's side to his shoulder, and then up on his head. Wasn't that a queer place for a mouse to try to find something to eat?
Aunt Emmie.
