Mr. Tompkins gave his penknife for a forfeit.
“Then judge me quick!” said he; “for I must be going.”
“To dance a jig!” cried Hiram.
“To tell a story!” cried cousin Floy.
“Yes, yes! that’s it!” cried Annetta.
“Oh, no! no, no! take too long,” said Mr. Tompkins.
But Mr. Plummer and Mrs. Plummer, and all the rest, kept shouting, “Story, story, story!”
“Well, well, story ’tis,” said Mr. Tompkins; “a small one, though.”
And then Mr. Tompkins began to tell a small story about a hen named Teedla Toodlum, who lived in a far-away country,—the name of which country was so strange, that not one of the people could remember it five minutes afterward. In the next chapter you shall have Mr. Tompkins’s story.