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The Tale Of Mrs. Tittlemouse
By
Beatrix Potter
Once upon a time there was a wood-mouse, and h=
er
name was Mrs. Tittlemouse.
She lived in a bank under a hedge.
Such a funny house! There were yards and yards=
of
sandy passages, leading to storerooms and nut-cellars and seed-cellars, all
amongst the roots of the hedge.
There was a kitchen, a parlour, a pantry, and a
larder.
Also, there was Mrs. Tittlemouse's bedroom, wh=
ere
she slept in a little box bed!
Mrs. Tittlemouse was a most terribly tidy
particular little mouse, always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors.=
Sometimes a beetle lost its way in the passage=
s.
"Shuh! shuh! little dirty feet!" said
Mrs. Tittlemouse, clattering her dust-pan.
And one day a little old woman ran up and down=
in
a red spotty cloak.
"Your house is on fire, Mother Ladybird! =
Fly
away home to your children!"
Another day, a big fat spider came in to shelt=
er
from the rain.
"Beg pardon, is this not Miss Muffet's?&q=
uot;
"Go away, you bold bad spider! Leaving en=
ds
of cobweb all over my nice clean house!"
She bundled the spider out at a window.
He let himself down the hedge with a long thin=
bit
of string.
Mrs. Tittlemouse went on her way to a distant
storeroom, to fetch cherry-stones and thistle-down seed for dinner.
All along the passage she sniffed, and looked =
at
the floor.
"I smell a smell of honey; is it the cows=
lips
outside, in the hedge? I am sure I can see the marks of little dirty
feet."
Suddenly round a corner, she met Babbitty
Bumble--"Zizz, Bizz, Bizzz!" said the bumble bee.
Mrs. Tittlemouse looked at her severely. She
wished that she had a broom.
"Good-day, Babbitty Bumble; I should be g=
lad
to buy some beeswax. But what are you doing down here? Why do you always co=
me
in at a window, and say Zizz, Bizz, Bizzz?" Mrs. Tittlemouse began to =
get
cross.
"Zizz, Wizz, Wizzz!" replied Babbitty
Bumble in a peevish squeak. She sidled down a passage, and disappeared into=
a
storeroom which had been used for acorns.
Mrs. Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before
Christmas; the storeroom ought to have been empty.
But it was full of untidy dry moss.
Mrs. Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss. T=
hree
or four other bees put their heads out, and buzzed fiercely.
"I am not in the habit of letting lodging=
s;
this is an intrusion!" said Mrs. Tittlemouse. "I will have them
turned out--" "Buzz! Buzz! Buzzz!"--"I wonder who would
help me?" "Bizz, Wizz, Wizzz!"
--"I will not have Mr. Jackson; he never
wipes his feet."
Mrs. Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till
after dinner.
When she got back to the parlour, she heard so=
me
one coughing in a fat voice; and there sat Mr. Jackson himself!
He was sitting all over a small rocking-chair,
twiddling his thumbs and smiling, with his feet on the fender.
He lived in a drain below the hedge, in a very
dirty wet ditch.
"How do you do, Mr. Jackson? Deary me, you
have got very wet!"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs.
Tittlemouse! I'll sit awhile and dry myself," said Mr. Jackson.
He sat and smiled, and the water dripped off h=
is
coat tails. Mrs. Tittlemouse went round with a mop.
He sat such a while that he had to be asked if=
he
would take some dinner?
First she offered him cherry-stones. "Tha=
nk
you, thank you, Mrs. Tittlemouse! No teeth, no teeth, no teeth!" said =
Mr.
Jackson.
He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide; he
certainly had not a tooth in his head.
Then she offered him thistle-down
seed--"Tiddly, widdly, widdly! Pouff, pouff, puff!" said Mr. Jack=
son.
He blew the thistle-down all over the room.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs.
Tittlemouse! Now what I really--_really_ should like--would be a little dis=
h of
honey!"
"I am afraid I have not got any, Mr.
Jackson," said Mrs. Tittlemouse.
"Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs.
Tittlemouse!" said the smiling Mr. Jackson, "I can _smell_ it; th=
at
is why I came to call."
Mr. Jackson rose ponderously from the table, a=
nd
began to look into the cupboards.
Mrs. Tittlemouse followed him with a dish-clot=
h,
to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlour floor.
When he had convinced himself that there was no
honey in the cupboards, he began to walk down the passage.
"Indeed, indeed, you will stick fast, Mr.
Jackson!"
"Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs.
Tittlemouse!"
First he squeezed into the pantry.
"Tiddly, widdly, widdly? no honey? no hon=
ey,
Mrs. Tittlemouse?"
There were three creepy-crawly people hiding in
the plate-rack. Two of them got away; but the littlest one he caught.
Then he squeezed into the larder. Miss Butterf=
ly
was tasting the sugar; but she flew away out of the window.
"Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs. Tittlemouse;
you seem to have plenty of visitors!"
"And without any invitation!" said M=
rs.
Thomasina Tittlemouse.
They went along the sandy passage--"Tiddly
widdly--" "Buzz! Wizz! Wizz!"
He met Babbitty round a corner, and snapped her
up, and put her down again.
"I do not like bumble bees. They are all =
over
bristles," said Mr. Jackson, wiping his mouth with his coat-sleeve.
"Get out, you nasty old toad!" shrie=
ked
Babbitty Bumble.
"I shall go distracted!" scolded Mrs.
Tittlemouse.
She shut herself up in the nut-cellar while Mr.
Jackson pulled out the bees-nest. He seemed to have no objection to stings.=
When Mrs. Tittlemouse ventured to come out--ev=
erybody
had gone away.
But the untidiness was something
dreadful--"Never did I see such a mess--smears of honey; and moss, and
thistledown--and marks of big and little dirty feet--all over my nice clean
house!"
She gathered up the moss and the remains of the
beeswax.
Then she went out and fetched some twigs, to
partly close up the front door.
"I will make it too small for Mr.
Jackson!"
She fetched soft soap, and flannel, and a new
scrubbing brush from the storeroom. But she was too tired to do any more. F=
irst
she fell asleep in her chair, and then she went to bed.
"Will it ever be tidy again?" said p=
oor
Mrs. Tittlemouse.
Next morning she got up very early and began a
spring cleaning which lasted a fortnight.
She swept, and scrubbed, and dusted; and she r=
ubbed
up the furniture with beeswax, and polished her little tin spoons.
When it was all beautifully neat and clean, she
gave a party to five other little mice, without Mr. Jackson.
He smelt the party and came up the bank, but he
could not squeeze in at the door.
So they handed him out acorn-cupfuls of honey-=
dew
through the window, and he was not at all offended.
He sat outside in the sun, and said--"Tid=
dly,
widdly, widdly! Your very good health, Mrs. Tittlemouse!"
THE END