mischief who set the fire.

"One of my ancestors," went on Dr. Whiskers pleasantly, "a
great-great-great-grandfather, was a mouse of the wilds, a regular Indian.
He told his children, and the story was repeated until it came down to me,
that a hornet's nest smoked in a pipe would cure the worst case of asthma
that ever was known."

"Haven't any pipe; no hornet's nest," grumbled Simon.

"Neither have I," chuckled Dr. Whiskers. "I threw mine away after the
hired man set the barn afire with a spark from his pipe. I'll try to find
a hornet's nest and maybe I can borrow a pipe from Daddy Longlegs. Now
take these pills and start young Skunk to trotting. Good-day to you,
Simon. I hope you'll feel better soon.

"I'll have the kiddies hunt for a hornet's nest," planned Grand-daddy.

Buster, Wink, and Wiggle met him by the pond.

"All safe, Grand-daddy?" they cried.

"Sure," grinned Grand-daddy. "They are harmless folk. Have you seen a gray
paper balloon dangling from the bushes, kiddies?"

"I have," cried Wink. "Uncle said hornets lived in it and they were real
fighters."

"I'll fight 'em, then. I want that nest for medicine. Trot ahead and show
it to me."