“Master Jack and Miss Gretchen,”—how the Bear family did learn to hate those children! Every rude and disagreeable thing Greedy did, he quoted them as examples. Jack, it seemed, said, ‘I won’t,’ and fought for his dinner; and Gretchen scratched and bit right and left; and they quarrelled with each other. Their evil example had ruined all that was good in poor Greedy. He said the most unpleasant things. He found fault with every thing. He pitched into the others on all occasions, and boxed Roll-about’s ears till the hair grew quite thin. Then he advised her to use ‘bears’ grease.’ ‘All the city young ladies did so,’ he said; but what good was that, when the poor little thing could get none but her own,—or his, which, as you may suppose, he wasn’t very likely to offer her!
“‘Oh,’ Mrs. Bear used to say to herself, ‘if I only had Master Jack and Miss Gretchen here, wouldn’t I give them a lesson?’ And as Greedy, for all his fault-finding, had such a big appetite, that provisions were growing scarce, two or three bad children, needing to be eaten by way of example, would have been convenient. Every thing went wrong in the once happy home. The brothers and sisters were always sulking in corners, and complaining to each other in low growls of the way in which Greedy had treated them. Roll-about lost her plump sides, and grew thin. Snap was finding out the advantages of bad temper, and beginning to carry on like Greedy. At last Mrs. Bear declared she would stand it no longer.
“‘You are grown up,’ she said: ‘go out and shift for yourself. As long as you were good and content, I was glad to have you here: now you only make my life miserable, and I can’t endure it.’ And she raised her large paw, and showed her teeth, for the first time in her life; and Greedy, with a snarl of fright, slunk away from the den.
“Out of her sight, however, his temper revived. He got into a great huff. ‘Leave the den?’ Of course he would, and very glad to see the last of it. So he went and chose a hole for himself to live in. It was quite close to the village,—a great deal too close for safety. But the silly creature had lost all his instinct by living with human beings. And whenever the bells rang or any thing seemed to be going on, he would rush out to peep, and find what it was. I only wonder they didn’t catch him long ago.”
“Did they catch him, then?” asked Max.
“You shall hear. Only yesterday it was that a caravan with a band of music came into the village. Greedy heard the sounds, and it seemed as if he would go wild. He dodged among the bushes, and looked on as long as he could stand it, and then, seized with a desire to distinguish himself, out he came. The circus people couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw him prancing after them, his head on one side, and taking steps like a dancing-master. Of course such a prize was not to be resisted. They lost no time; and, when I caught sight of them, poor Greedy had already a muzzle on his jaws and a rope round his neck. A boy was banging his sides with a stick, his tail was between his legs, and I must say,” ended February, laughing heartily, “he didn’t look particularly happy at being taken back into fashionable life after this manner.”
“That’s first-rate,” cried Max, in fits of amusement.
“I’m so glad you liked it,” replied February, much pleased. “Now I’ll trouble you for my thumb-nail and left ear-tip.”
The can was brought, and Max carefully measured out what was wanted. February kissed Thekla’s hand (the tip of his nose felt very cold), made a clumsy bow to both, and went away.
The children hugged each other. “If they’re all like that,” cried they, “how jolly it will be!”