WOULD FIND IT ON THE MANTEL-SHELF OR PERHAPS ON MR. CROW'S BALD HEAD
It was a trick where he laid the button in the centre of the handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them down each time so that they could see that the button was still there, and he would let them press on it, too, to prove it, and then when he would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there would be no button at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on Mr. Crow's bald head, or in Mr. 'Possum's pocket, or some place like that. But one time, when Mr. Rabbit had done it over and over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief by the corners nearest him, and there was the button sticking fast, right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to Mr. Rabbit, and by some mistake Mr. Rabbit had turned the button upside down!
Then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and Mr. Rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family, and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all promised, and Mr. Rabbit told them the adage, which was:
"When beeswax grows on the button-tree,
No one knows what the weather'll be."
"That," said Mr. Rabbit, "is a very old adage. I don't know what it means exactly, but I'm sure it means something, because old adages always do mean something, though often nobody can find out just what it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages. There are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got my ancestors out of trouble. When we didn't have an old one to fit the trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything special, and could be used almost anywhere."
Then the Deep Woods People all said there was never anybody who knew so much and could do so many things as Mr. Jack Rabbit, and how proud they all were to have him in their midst, and Mr. Rabbit showed them how to do all the tricks he knew, and they all practised them and tried them on each other until Mr. Crow said he must look after the supper, and Mr. 'Possum ran right off after an armful of stove-wood, and everybody helped with everything there was to do, for they were having such a good time and were so hungry.
And after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked a little before anybody said anything, until by-and-by Mr. Rabbit said that they would go on now with the literary club, and that Mr. Robin might read the story he had mentioned the night before.
So Mr. Robin got up, and stood on a chair, and made a nice bow. He said it was not really his own story he had written, but one that his grandmother used to tell him sometimes, though he didn't think it had ever been put into a book.
Then Mr. Rabbit spoke up and said that that didn't matter, that of course everybody couldn't be original, and that the story itself was the main thing and the way you told it. He said if Mr. Robin would go right on with the story now it would save time. So then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes—all except Mr. Robin, who began right off to read his story: