"We need that nice new spool of thread," she argued, "and I mean to get it. No, Buster, you are too fat to run fast, and Limpy-toes is lame. I shall not let the twins venture, for old Tom is often in the play-room. So I must go myself."
Away she skipped, before cautious Limpy-toes could say no. Pretty soon she slipped through the tiniest hole, laughing gleefully. She held a long white thread in her mouth.
"Hurry and bring the empty spool," she cried. "I fooled old Tom that time. He was asleep on the couch and never heard me. I couldn't pull the spool through the hole, so I've brought one end of the thread. We'll take turns winding it on to our spool."
They wound, and wound, and wound.
"Seem's if there is no end," complained Buster.
Limpy-toes went on with the work. Suddenly, the thread tightened and the spool in the playroom stopped bobbing.
The twins crept slyly to the hole to see what had happened. They came back giggling softly.
"Old Tom thinks someone is bobbing it for him to play with," lisped
Tiny.
"Stop winding," directed Silver Ears, "and old Tom will soon take another nap."
When Mother Graymouse returned, Silver Ears had the shopping bag neatly mended and there was plenty of thread upon their spool.