“Well, well, well,” exclaimed dear Uncle Lucky with a sigh, laying down his book, “that is a beautiful poem.” Pushing his spectacles back on his forehead, he was just about to sigh again when the telephone rang, One, two, three! Jingle, jingle, jingle!
“Who’s that, I wonder?” he asked himself, taking up the receiver.
“Hello, hello! Who’s calling me?
“This is Rabbitville, one, two, three.”
“Mr. Grizzly Bear is talking,” answered a deep, growly voice.
“Well, I don’t care if he stops,” replied brave Uncle Lucky, “I don’t want to speak to him.”
“But he wants to talk to you!” answered the deep, growly voice.
“Dear Little Miss Mousie,” sighed Uncle Lucky, “why do disagreeable people call me on the ’phone? Why don’t they call up the Policeman Dog? Please lock the kitchen door.” And the poor old gentleman rabbit gave a great big sigh and, hanging up the receiver, hopped quickly around the house to lock every window, pulling down the shades and then stuffing up the fireplace with sofa cushions.
“I don’t want to speak to him.”