One day, when Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little bear children, came home from school, they saw in the dining-room Uncle Wigwag, the funny old gentleman bear, who was always playing jokes. And Uncle Wigwag was laughing and chuckling, and giggling to himself, bobbing up and down, and tickling himself on his ribs to make himself laugh all the harder. And then he’d sit down in a chair and hold his sides with his paws because they ached so from his jollity.
“Why, what in the world can be the matter with Uncle Wigwag?” asked Beckie, dropping her books, and hurrying toward him.
“Maybe he’s sick,” suggested Neddie. “I guess I’d better run for Dr. Possum.”
“Sick! He isn’t sick at all!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear. “He’s just up to some of his tricks. If you ever joke with me again that way,” she went on, looking at Uncle Wigwag sort of sharp-like, “if ever you do that again, I’ll never give you any maple sugar on your honey cakes.”
“Oh, what did he do? Tell us!” cried Neddie and Beckie, while Uncle Wigwag laughed harder than ever.
“Why he came home from the five-and-ten-cent store—I guess it must have been,” explained Aunt Piffy, “and he gave me a box to open. He asked me if I didn’t want a new side hair comb, and of course I did. Well, when I opened the box out popped a green snake. I was so scared that I ran down cellar and hid, and I nearly lost my breath, and could hardly find it again. Oh, dear!” and Aunt Piffy fanned herself with her apron, she was so warm.
“Well,” said Uncle Wigwag, and he stopped laughing long enough to talk. “I really didn’t say there was a side comb in the box, Aunt Piffy. Besides, it wasn’t really a snake, you know,” he said, turning to Neddie and Beckie. “It was only a snake made of paper, with a spring inside like a jack-in-the-box.”
“Oh, I know,” said Neddie. “Where is it? Let me take it, and I’ll play a joke on some of the fellows at school.”
“Take it!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy. “I don’t want to see it again. And mind you!” she said to Uncle Wigwag, shaking her paw at him, “if you joke with me any more—no maple sugar on your fried eggs for breakfast.”
“Oh, I’ll be good,” said the old bear gentleman.