"I guess you are right, sonny," grinned Grand-daddy. "I'll soon cure the wounds for my brave soldiers. There, you feel better already. Forward march. I want to get back and work on the new bungalow."
But Grand-daddy had just begun to nail up a pantry shelf, when Mother Graymouse beckoned.
He found Tim Scrabble waiting for him.
"Can you go home with me, Dr. Whiskers?" he asked eagerly. "Jimmie and Johnnie have the whooping cough; Janie ate some candy and it made her tooth ache, and Baby Judy has the croup. Worst of all, Polly went into Mrs. Giant's pantry and it is a wonder she ever got back down cellar. She is all rolled up in sticky fly-paper. And me with four sick babies on my paws!"
"I'll come at once, Tim," agreed Dr. Whiskers. "Limpy-toes and I will soon fix things all right."
He called Limpy-toes to help carry his heavy bag.
"We'll not take the automobile," he decided. "The Giants might hear it chug-chug. If you please, Belindy, let Scamper go over and tell Granny that we will probably be home by midnight. She may wish to return and spend the night with you. Now we're off to help that poor Scrabble family."
It was a long journey and there were many doses to be ordered for the little patients. It took a long time to remove Polly's fly-paper with an alcohol bath. Then cure-all salve must be rubbed in where patches of skin came off. But at last every patient was made comfortable. Tim and Polly thanked them again and again.
"Now for our long homeward tramp, Limpy-toes," sighed Grand-daddy wearily.
It was long past midnight when tired old Grand-daddy pulled off his boots.