A brilliant scene it was that presented itself before their eyes. The cave was lighted not only by glow-worms, but by light-wood torches stuck in every available crack and cranny of the walls. The floor was sprinkled with fine white sand, clean and glittering, while branches of holly and alder placed in the corners added still more to the general air of festivity. As to the guests, they were evidently enjoying themselves greatly, to judge from the noise they were making. There were a great many of them,—hundreds, or perhaps even thousands, though it was impossible to count them, as they were constantly moving, hopping, leaping, jumping, creeping, trotting, running, even flying. Never were so many tiny creatures seen together. There were woodmice, of course, by the hundred,—old and young, big and little; cousins, uncles, aunts, grandmothers, of the bride and bridegroom. There were respectable field-mice, looking like well-to-do farmers, as indeed they were; frisky kangaroo-mice, leaping about on their long hind-legs, to the admiration of all those whose legs were short. There were all the moles, of both families,—those who wore plain black velvet without any ornament, and those who had lovely rose-colored stars at the end of their noses. These last gentlemen were very aristocratic indeed, and the woodmice felt highly honored by their presence. Besides all these, the squirrels had been invited, and had come in full force, the Grays and the Reds and the Chipmunks; and Mr. and Mrs. Titmouse were there, and old Mrs. Shrew and her daughters, and I don't know how many more. Hundreds and hundreds of guests, none of them bigger than a squirrel, and most of them much smaller.
You can perhaps imagine the effect that was produced on this gay assembly by the sudden appearance among them of a Raccoon and a Boy! There was a confused murmur for a moment, a quick affrighted glance, and then dead silence. Not a creature dared to move; not a tail waved, not a whisker quivered; all the tiny creatures stood as if turned to stone, gazing in mute terror and supplication at their formidable visitors. The bride, who had just entered from a side-cave on her father's arm, prepared to faint; the bridegroom threw his arms about her and glared fiercely at the intruders, his tiny heart swelling as high as if he were a lion instead of a very small red mouse. Mr. Woodmouse, Senior, alone retained his presence of mind. He hastened to greet his formidable guests, and bade them welcome in a voice which, though tremulous, tried hard to be cordial.
"Mr. Coon," he said, "you are welcome, most welcome. Mr. Toto, your most obedient, sir. Cracker, I am delighted to see you. Very good of you all, I'm sure, to honor this little occasion with your distinguished presence. Will you—ah!—hum—will you sit down?"
The little host hesitated over this invitation; it would not be polite to ask his guests to be careful lest they should sit down on the other guests, and yet they were so very large, and took up so much room,—two of them, at least! Coon, delighted at the sensation he had produced, was as gracious as possible, and sitting down with great care so as to avoid any catastrophe, looked about him with so benign an expression that the rest of the company began to take heart, and whiskers were pricked and tails were cocked again.
"This is delightful, Mr. Woodmouse!" he said heartily,—"this is really delightful! A brilliant occasion, indeed! But I do not see your son, the happy— Ah! there he is. Prick-ear, you rascal, come here! Are you too proud to speak to your old friends?"
Thus adjured, the young woodmouse left his bride in her mother's care and came forward, looking half pleased and half angry. "Good evening, Coon!" he said. "I was not sure whether you were a friend, after our last meeting. But I am very glad to see you, and I bear no malice."
And with this he shook paws with an air of magnanimity. Coon rubbed his nose, as he was apt to do when a little confused.
"Oh! ah! to be sure!" he said. "I had quite forgotten that little matter. But say no more about it, my boy; say no more about it! By-gones are by-gones, and we should think of nothing but pleasure on an occasion like the present." With a graceful and condescending wave of his paw he dismissed the past, and continued: "Pray, introduce me to your charming bride! I assure you I am positively longing to make her acquaintance. After you, my boy; after you!" and he crossed the room and joined the bridal party.
"What trouble did your son have with Coon?" Toto inquired of Mr. Woodmouse. "Nothing serious, I trust?"