the rain if it came.

“Oh, hello, Uncle Wiggily!” called Bawly, joyfully.

“Hello,” answered the rabbit carpenter. “You are just in time, Bawly.
Would you mind handing me my hammer? It slipped and fell to the ground.”

“Of course I’ll throw it up to you,” said Bawly, kindly. “But you had
better get behind the chimney, Uncle Wiggily, for I might hit you with
the hammer, though, of course, I wouldn’t mean to. You see I am a very
good thrower from having played ball so much.”

“I see,” answered Uncle Wiggily. “Well, I’ll get behind the chimney.”

So Bawly picked up the hammer and he threw it carefully toward the roof,
but, would you believe me, he threw it so hard that it went right over
the house, chimney and all, and fell down on the other side.

“My! You are too strong!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily laughing so that his
fur shook. “Try again, Bully, if you please.”

“Oh, I’m Bawly, not Bully,” said the frog boy.

“Excuse me, that was my mistake,” spoke the old gentleman rabbit. “I’ll
get it right next time, Peetie—I mean Bawly.”

Well, Bawly threw the hammer again, and this time it landed right on the
roof close to the chimney, and Uncle Wiggily picked it up and began
nailing on more shingles.