You see, those mice didn’t know about potatoes. They never ate them because they didn’t like the taste, but they never knew other people did. Now potato plants don’t intend to be eaten. They hide the potatoes that they make to feed themselves—the ones we steal from them—down under the ground. But they fill their green parts, that the mice saw above the ground, with a juice that makes folks mighty sorry if they try to eat them, excepting those bugs who never eat anything else. That’s why the bugs made Stripes sick. Any one can eat their eggs, or the bugs who hide under the ground, like the good potatoes, but the bugs and the green leaves above the ground—ugh! You know what Bobby Robin said about them.
Crunch, crunch, went the busy teeth of the cross little mice. Ow! In just seven whisks of a tail they turned and ran as fast as their scurry skippy feet could carry them. My, but they were sorry they’d tried to be so naughty!
CHAPTER XIII
WHERE, OH WHERE, IS TAD COON?
You couldn’t very well blame Stripes for being delighted when he found out what they had done. They’d made themselves most awfully sick and sorry. And Stripes was one of the Things-from-under-the-Earth in the first place, you know; he couldn’t get so good and kind clear through to the bottom of him that he’d forgive the mean little things—not all of a sudden. The only reason he didn’t try to kill any of them right then was because he was afraid they’d disagree with him.
But Nibble Rabbit was sorry, so sorry. The mice had been kind to him—except old Great-Grandfather Fieldmouse who was pretty rude the day they marched into Nibble’s hole after woodchuck fur for a charm against owls. He couldn’t bear to hear them squeal and moan. He was just wishing with all his heart that his ears weren’t so very long when one of them called out from the shadow of a wide burdock-leaf: “Rabbit, oh, Rabbit! Bend down this leaf so I can get just a drop of dew on my tongue. I’m dying.”
Of course he hopped to help her. Yes, it was a lady mouse who had called. And wasn’t she s’prised to find he was the very same little bunny she had guided through the scary dark tunnels under the haystack! That was the time Ouphe the Rat was chasing him. And wasn’t he still more s’prised to find she was the same mouse. He’d been wanting to pay her back all that time. Now he had a chance.
“Drink?” said Nibble. “I’ll give you a drink. Hold up your toes and don’t wiggle.” With that he picked her up very gently by the loose fur on her collar and carried her down to Doctor Muskrat’s Pond. And maybe you think he didn’t thump and pound with his furry feet until the sleepy old doctor came out to prescribe for her.
“Water is right,” said the doctor. “Then she must eat all the sour wood-sorrel she can hold. There’s lots of it all about the Woods and Fields but I don’t suppose half of these silly mice know enough to use it.”
You know how kind Doctor Muskrat really is; he only pretends to be grumpy. Well, instead of crawling back into his nice warm bed he went flouncing around in the moonlight calling: “Water and wood-sorrel, you foolish mice, water and wood-sorrel!”
And this time you better believe they listened to him. It was wonderful how soon the squealing stopped after the crunching began—the crunching of mouse-teeth on wood-sorrel. And before very long they were scuttling back to their homes, whisking their tails behind them. But not a one except the lady mouse, who was Nibble Rabbit’s friend, ever thought to say “Thank you.” That’s mouse manners for you!