THE TALE OF MRS TITTLEMOUSE

By BEATRIX POTTER

Author of "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" etc.

NELLIE'S

LITTLE BOOK

Once upon a time there was a wood-

mouse, and her 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-cel ars

and seed-cel ars, al amongst the roots

of the hedge.

There was a kitchen, a parlour, a

pantry, and a larder.

Also, there was Mrs. Tittlemouse's

bedroom, where 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

passages.

"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

shelter from the rain.

"Beg pardon, is this not Miss Muffet's?"

"Go away, you bold bad spider! Leaving ends of cobweb al 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.

Al along the passage she sniffed, and

looked at the floor.

"I smel a smel of honey; is it the cowslips 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 glad to buy some beeswax. But what are

you doing down here? Why do you

always come 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 ful of untidy dry moss.

Mrs. tittlemouse began to pul out

the moss. Three or four other bees

put their heads out, and buzzed

fiercely.

"I am not in the habit of letting

lodgings; this is an intrusion!" said Mrs. Tittlemouse. "I wil have them

turned out " "Buzz! Buzz!

Buzzz!" "I wonder who would help me?" "Bizz, Wizz, Wizzz!"

"I wil not have Mr. Jackson; he

never wipes his feet."

Mrs. tittlemouse decided to leave

the bees til after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour,

she heard some one coughing in a

fat voice; and there sat Mr. Jackson

himself!

He was sitting al over a smal

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 his 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.

"Thank 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. Jackson. He blew the thistle-

down al over the room.

"Thank you, thank you, thank

you, Mrs. Tittlemouse! Now what

I real y real y should like would be a little dish 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 smel it; that is why I came to cal ."

Mr. Jackson rose ponderously from the

table, and began to look into the

cupboards.

Mrs. Tittlemouse fol owed him with a dish-cloth, 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 wil stick fast, Mr. Jackson!"

"Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs.

Tittlemouse!"

First he squeezed into the pantry.

"Tiddly, widdly, widdly? no honey? no honey, 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 Butterfly 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 Mrs.

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 al over

bristles," said Mr.

Jackson, wiping

his mouth with his

coat-sleeve.

"Get out, you nasty

old toad!" shrieked

Babbitty Bumble.

"I shal go

distracted!"

scolded Mrs.

Tittlemouse.

She shut herself up in the nut-

cel ar while Mr. Jackson pul ed out

the bees-nest. He seemed to have

no objection to stings.

When Mrs. Tittlemouse ventured to

come out everybody 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 al 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 wil make it too smal 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. First

she fel asleep in her chair, and

then she went to bed.

"Wil it ever be tidy again?" said poor 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 rubbed up the

furniture with beeswax, and

polished her little tin spoons.

When it was al beautiful y 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 al

offended.

He sat outside in the sun, and

said "Tiddly, widdly, widdly! Your

very good health, Mrs. Tittlemouse!"

THE END