Uncle Wiggily and Old Mother Hubbard Part 20

"I suppose I could," said the boy, "and I got up early on purpose to do that. But now I have lost my way, and I don't know where the school is. Oh, dear! Boo hoo! I'll never get to school this week, I fear."

"Oh, yes, you will!" said Uncle Wiggily, still more kindly. "I'll tell you what to do. Hop up in the automobile here with me, and I'll take you to the school. I know just where it is. Sammie and Susie Littletail, my rabbit friends, and Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, as well as Nannie and Billie Wagtail, the goats, go there. Hop in!"

So Diller-a-Dollar, the late scholar, hopped in the auto, and he and Uncle Wiggily started off together.

"You'll not be late this morning," said the bunny uncle. "I'll get you there just about nine o'clock."

Well, Uncle Wiggily meant to do it, and he might have, only for what happened. First a hungry dog bit a piece out of one of the bologna sausage tires on the auto wheels, and they had to go slower. Then a hungry cat took another piece and they had to go still more slowly.

A little farther on the tinkerum-tankerum of the automobile, which drinks gasolene, grew thirsty and Uncle Wiggily had to give it a gla.s.s of lemonade. This took more time.

And finally when the machine went over a b.u.mp the cork came out of the box of talc.u.m powder and it flew in the face of Uncle Wiggily and the late scholar and they both sneezed so hard that the auto stopped.

"See! I told you we'd never get to school," sadly said the boy. "Oh, dear! And I thought this time teacher would not laugh, and ask me why I came so soon, when I was really late."

"It's too bad!" Uncle Wiggily said. "I did hope I could get you there on time. But wait a minute. Let me think. Ha! I have it! We are close to my bungalow. We'll run there and get in my airs.h.i.+p.

That goes ever so much faster than my auto, and I'll have you to school in no time."

No sooner said than done! In the airs.h.i.+p the late scholar and Uncle Wiggily reached school just as the nine o'clock bell was ringing, and so Diller-a-Dollar was on time this time after all. And the teacher said:

"Oh, Diller-a-Dollar, my ten o'clock scholar, you may stand up in line. You used to come in very late, but now you come at nine."

So the late scholar was not late after all, thanks to Uncle Wiggily, and if the egg beater doesn't go to sleep in the rice pudding, where it can't get out to go sleigh-riding with the potato masher, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Baa-Baa, the black sheep.

CHAPTER XXIII

UNCLE WIGGILY AND BAA-BAA BLACK SHEEP

"My goodness! But it's cold to-day!" exclaimed Uncle Wiggily Longears, the nice rabbit gentleman, as he came down to breakfast in his hollow-stump bungalow one morning. "It is very cold."

"Indeed it is," said Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, as she put the hot b.u.t.tered cabbage cakes on the table.

"If you go out you had better wear your fur coat."

"I shall," spoke the bunny uncle. "And I probably shall call on Mother Goose. She asked me to stop in the next time I went past."

"What for?" Nurse Jane wanted to know.

"Oh, Little Jack Horner hurt his thumb the last time he pulled a plum out of his Christmas pie, and Mother Goose wanted me to look at it, and see if she had better call in Dr. Possum. So I'll stop and have a look."

"Well, give her my love," said Nurse Jane, and Uncle Wiggily promised that he would.

A little later he started off across the fields and through the woods to the place where Mother Goose lived, not far from his own hollow-stump bungalow. Uncle Wiggily had on his fur overcoat, for it was cold. It had been warm the day before, when he had taken Diller-a-Dollar, the ten o'clock scholar, to school, but now the weather had turned cold again.

"Come in!" called Mother Goose, when Uncle Wiggily had tapped with his paw on her door. "Come in!"

The bunny uncle went in, and looked at the thumb of Little Jack Horner, who was playing marbles with Little Boy Blue.

"Does your thumb hurt you much, Jack?" asked Uncle Wiggily.

"Yes, I am sorry to say it does. I'm not going to pull any more plums out of Christmas pies. I'm going to eat cake instead," said Jack Horner.

"Well, I'll go get Dr. Possum for you," offered Uncle Wiggily. "I think that will be best," he remarked to Mother Goose.

Wrapped in his warm fur overcoat, Uncle Wiggily once more started off over the fields and through the woods. He had not gone very far before he heard a queer sort of crying noise, like:

"Baa! Baa! Baa!"

"Ha! That sounds like a little lost lamb," said the bunny uncle, "only there are no little lambs out this time of year. I'll take a look. It may be some one in trouble, whom I can help."

Uncle Wiggily looked around the corner of a stone fence, and there he saw a sheep s.h.i.+vering in the cold, for most of his warm, fleecy wool had been sheared off. Oh! how the sheep s.h.i.+vered in the cold.

"Why, what is the matter with you?" asked Uncle Wiggily, kindly.

"I am c-c-c-c-cold," said the sheep, s.h.i.+veringly.

"What makes you cold?" the bunny uncle wanted to know.

"Because they cut off so much of my wool. You know how it is with me, for I am in the Mother Goose book. Listen!

"'Baa-baa, black sheep, have you any wool?

Yes, sir; yes, sir; three bags full.

One for the master, one for the man, And one for the little boy who lives in the lane.'

"That's the way I answered when they asked me if I had any wool,"

said Baa-baa.

"And what did they do?" asked the bunny uncle.

"Why they sheared off my fleece, three bags of it. I didn't mind them taking the first bag full, for I had plenty and it was so warm I thought Spring was coming. And it doesn't hurt to cut off my fleecy wool, any more than it hurts to cut a boy's hair. And after they took the first bag full of wool for the master they took a second bag for the man. I didn't mind that, either. But when they took the third----"

"Then they really did take three?" asked Uncle Wiggily, in surprise.

"Oh, yes, to be sure. Why it's that way in the book of Mother Goose, you know, and they had to do just as the book says."

"I suppose so," agreed Uncle Wiggily, sadly like.

"Well, after they took the third bag of wool off my back the weather grew colder, and I began to s.h.i.+ver. Oh! how cold I was; and how I s.h.i.+vered and shook. Of course if the master and the man, and the little boy who lives in the lane, had known I was going to s.h.i.+ver so, they would not have taken the last bag of wool. Especially the little boy, as he is very kind to me.

"But now it is done, and it will be a long while before my wool grows out again. And as long as it is cold weather I will s.h.i.+ver, I suppose," said Baa-baa, the black sheep.

"No, you shall not s.h.i.+ver!" cried Uncle Wiggily.

"How can you stop me?" asked the black sheep.

"By wrapping my old fur coat around you," said the rabbit gentleman.