“Oh, look!” cried Baby Bunty. “We have a bonfire!”
And the Pipsisewah, seeing the bright light, gave a grumble and growl and quickly sneaked away.
“Just my luck!” he said. “I thought I’d have a bit of souse, but I don’t even dare go near the fire!”
And Uncle Wiggily, looking among the sticks, said:
“This isn’t burning fire at all; it’s just a lot of lightning bugs crawling on the pieces of wood.”
“Yes, that’s what we are,” said a voice. “I am the lightning bug you saved from the sticky gum, and these are my cousins and my sisters and my aunts.”
“And you saved us from the Pipsisewah!” said Uncle Wiggily, and so the lightning bugs had. Then the firefly bugs flew on ahead, lighting the path to the hollow stump bungalow for the bunnies, and all was well.
And if the loaf of bread doesn’t hide in the flower pot when the rice pudding wants it to help catch the raisins for a pie, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the roses.
STORY XXIII
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE ROSES
“Dear me!” exclaimed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy one day, as she walked down to the end of her garden near the hollow stump bungalow. “This is too bad!”