"I fear that oil will not cure him," she said. "You see, he has been
eating a good deal of sweet. What he needs is some sour medicine."

She disappeared down the hole and soon returned with a bottle of
vinegar tucked under her plaid shawl.

"Aren't you afraid that vinegar will strangle the poor dear?"
protested Mother Graymouse.

"Not a bit of it; not a bit of it! Give me a spoon," directed Granny.

Buster made a wry face as he swallowed the sour dose. Then he began
to cough and splutter and choke until Mammy grew frightened.

Uncle Squeaky appeared upon the scene just then.

"Stop that, you young rascal!" he laughed. "That is a very poor
imitation of a cough. What you need is neither oil nor vinegar, but a
good dose of salt. You are altogether too fresh for a youngster."

Buster stopped choking at once. Soon he began to feel better. Then he
called Silver Ears.

"There's ten more chocolates hidden in the toe of the Giant's boot,
Silvy," he whispered weakly. "Bring 'em out and eat 'em for supper.
I'm not hungry for candy any more."

He rolled over and tried to go to sleep. Silver Ears dived down into
the boot toe and pulled out the hidden candies. And so the Graymouse