"My dear child," said Mother Graymouse, "you are all of a quiver. And
your poor little back is bleeding!"

She hurried to find some lint and cobwebs in the dark, unswept
corners of the attic.

"Do not be frightened, Silvy. Mammy will fix you up as good as new.
Run down to Grand-daddy, Limpy-toes, and fetch a pinch of cure-all
salve. By to-morrow, your scratch will be all well, Silvy dear."

"Oh, such a fright!" gasped Silver Ears. "I don't wish to be Ruth
Giant's pet any more. She can have her dear Tommy if she wants him."

"Did you get anything good to eat?" asked Buster.

"Oh, yes. Come over here, twinnies, and I will tell you all about it.
I wish I'd had time to stuff some of that chicken and frosted cake
into my pocket for you all. It was a splendid dinner party, if that
old Tom hadn't been invited."

"Chicken, raspberry jam and frosted cake," repeated Buster in his
slow, drawling voice. "Say, Silvy, don't you mind that scratch. I'd
risk it for such a good feast. Do you suppose there's any left?"

"I forbid you all to enter that play-room again without asking my
permission," commanded Mother Graymouse.

"Don't risk it, Buster," laughed Silver Ears. "Why, you never would
have reached that hole. You are too fat to run fast. I nearly missed
it. And anyway, you would have stuck in the middle of that teentiest