Buster was such a fat, lazy fellow that he just sat upon his little
stool and waited for his uncle to come to him.

"Howdy do, Uncle Squeaky?" he said as the others drew their little
red-painted stools into a half circle before Uncle Squeaky's
arm-chair. "Have you any peppermints in your pocket?"

"And will you please tell us a real exciting story?" begged Silver
Ears.

Uncle Squeaky laughed until tiny wrinkles came all around his
twinkling, black eyes and he looked ever so pleasant.

"Just listen to that, Ma Graymouse!" he cried.

[Illustration: _The little Graymouse children greeted Uncle Squeaky
gleefully._]

"Just listen to that! One would think I was a walking candy store and
a story book, all in one. Very sorry, Buster Boy, but I haven't a
single peppermint in my pocket. I think you ought not to eat so much
candy. You are too fat, already. As for stories, you kiddies have
heard every tale that this old gray head holds, time and time again."

He watched the five sober little faces as they sat upon their
red-painted stools with their paws folded primly in their laps. Then
he winked slyly at Mother Graymouse. "Oh, well, if you are going to
feel as bad as all that, perhaps I might manage to tell you one more
story," he chuckled. "But I think Silver Ears will hardly call it
exciting. And I wonder if you little folk could make some