And the Small Girl’s father said: “You see we have set a place for you. We must eat something before we go out.”
And the Boy said: “Are we going out? I came to see the tree.”
“We are going out to see the tree.”
Before the Boy-Next-Door could ask any questions, the Small Girl’s mother appeared with her finger on her lips and said: “Sh-sh,” and then she began to recite in a hushed voice,
“Hickory-Dickory-Dock——”
Then there was a little cry and the sound of dancing feet, and the Small Girl in a red dressing-gown came flying in.
“Oh, Mother, Mother, the mouse is on the clock. The mouse is on the clock.”
Well, it seemed to the Boy-Next-Door that he had never seen anything so exciting as the things that followed. The chocolate mouse went up the clock and under the chair—and would have had its tail cut off except that the Small Girl begged to save it.
“I want to keep it as it is, Mother.”
And playing this game as if it were the most important thing in the whole wide world were the Small Girl’s mother and the Small Girl’s father, all laughing and flushed, and chanting the quaint old words to the quaint old music.