“I am Sammy Woodchuck. I live here in the meadow. You look like strangers. Where do you live?” he inquired.
“Our names are Twinkle Gray, Winkle Gray and Pinkie Whiskers Gray,” replied Pinkie Whiskers. “We live in the cheese factory.”
“Why, that is strange, that is strange,” said Sammy Woodchuck. “You must be relatives of Uncle Whiskers. I have heard him speak of you. Welcome to the country.”
“Thank you very much for your welcome,” replied Pinkie Whiskers, for Mother Gray had taught her children to be very polite.
“Why do you call our Uncle Whiskers, your Uncle Whiskers,” inquired Twinkle. “Is he related to you also?”
Sammy Woodchuck threw back his fat head and laughed until his eyes were full of tears. “No, no!” he cried. “He is not related to me. How could a rat and a woodchuck be related? Everyone calls him Uncle Whiskers because we all love him. He is so kind and good to us all. You see I have known him all my life and ‘Uncle’ is my pet name for him. You ask any of the animals about here and they will tell you the same thing.”
“That is very nice,” said Pinkie Whiskers. “When I get old, I hope everyone will love me enough to call me ‘Uncle.’ I shall try and be good and kind like Uncle Whiskers.”
“Won’t you come home with me?” urged Sammy Woodchuck. “It is just a nice walk from here.”
“Yes, we would love to go home with you,” cried the three little brothers all at once. As they walked along they came to a beautiful tree and at the foot of this tree lay a shiny new axe.
Pinkie Whiskers ran and picked it up. He had never seen anything like it, so he turned it over and over and inquired: