Silver Ears was very angry and excited one morning when she returned from a visit to the play-room. Her eyes were pink and swollen from crying as she sat beside Squealer in the chimney corner.
"She is a hateful old Norah, Mammy," she burst out at last. "Ruth
Giant wants me to be her little pet mouse. I heard her tell Robert.
And she tossed me the nicest bit of cake I ever tasted. It was
frosted and stuffed with strawberry jam.
"Then that horrid old Norah Maid came in and shoo-ed me with her broom. I hid under the doll's bed. You wouldn't believe the bad things that freckly-faced Norah said. She told Ruth Giant that she wasn't going to have nasty little mice around, running up her skirts, not if she knew it. She stuck her snubby nose up in the air and said it seemed as if the room smelled mousey. Then when I started to run home, because I couldn't listen to such talk a minute longer, she cried—'There he goes now, Miss Ruth! The nasty, thieving, little beast! If there's a creature I can't abide, it's a mouse, to be sure!'
"I'm not a nasty little beast, am I, Mammy? I have a nice warm bath every Saturday night."
"Every Saturday night, the whole six of you," agreed Mother Graymouse wagging her head proudly. "And what could a body ask more of a neat mother mouse with a big family?"
"The Giants have a bath every morning," said Limpy-toes. "Granny
Whiskers says so, and of course Granny knows."
"A bath every morning!" cried Silver Ears. "Just think of that."
"Just imagine it!" drawled Buster.
"Well, they must be very dirty children," decided Mother Graymouse. "A bath every morning! I'd be ashamed if my children could not keep clean longer than that. Ruth Giant isn't a bit cleaner, sweeter, nor daintier than my pretty Silver Ears, if I do say so, as shouldn't."
"I'm not a thief either, Mammy," sobbed Silver Ears.