You'd bite off our heads!"
"Mew! scratch! scratch!" scuffled Simpkin on the windowsill; while the little mice inside sprang to their feet, and all began to shout all at once in little twittering voices: "No more twist! No more twist!" And they barred up the window-shutters and shut out Simpkin.
Simpkin came away from the shop and went home considering in his mind. He found the poor old tailor without fever, sleeping peacefully.
Then Simpkin went on tip-toe and took a little parcel of silk out of the tea-pot; and looked at it in the moonlight; and he felt quite ashamed of his badness compared with those good little mice!
When the tailor awoke in the morning, the first thing which he saw, upon the patchwork quilt, was a skein of cherry-coloured twisted silk, and beside his bed stood the repentant Simpkin!
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The sun was shining on the snow when the tailor got up and dressed, and came out into the street with Simpkin running before him.
"Alack," said the tailor, "I have my twist; but no more strength--nor time--than will serve to make me one single buttonhole; for
this is Christmas Day in the Morning! The Mayor of Gloucester shall be married by noon--and where is his cherry-coloured coat?"
He unlocked the door of the little shop in Westgate Street, and Simpkin ran in, like a cat that expects something.
But there was no one there! Not even one little brown mouse!
But upon the table--oh joy! the tailor gave a shout--there, where he had left plain cuttings of silk--there lay the most beautiful coat and embroidered satin waistcoat that ever were worn by a Mayor of Gloucester!
Everything was finished except just one single cherry-coloured buttonhole, and where that buttonhole was wanting there was pinned
a scrap of paper with these words--in little teeny weeny writing-- NO MORE TWIST.
And from then began the luck of the Tailor of Gloucester; he grew quite stout, and he grew quite rich.
He made the most wonderful waistcoats for all the rich merchants of Gloucester, and for all the fine gentlemen of the country
round.
Never were seen such ruffles, or such embroidered cuffs and lappets! But his buttonholes were the greatest triumph of it all.
The stitches of those buttonholes were so neat--SO neat--I wonder how they could be stitched by an old man in spectacles, with
crooked old fingers, and a tailor's thimble.
The stitches of those buttonholes were so small--SO small--they looked as if they had been made by little mice!
THE TALE OF SQUIRREL NUTKIN [A Story for Norah]
This is a Tale about a tail--a tail that belonged to a little red squirrel, and his name was Nutkin.
He had a brother called Twinkleberry, and a great many cousins: they lived in a wood at the edge of a lake.
In the middle of the lake there is an island covered with trees and nut bushes; and amongst those trees stands a hollow oak-tree, which is the house of an owl who is called Old Brown.
One autumn when the nuts were ripe, and the leaves on the hazel bushes were golden and green-- Nutkin and Twinkleberry and all the other little squirrels came out of the wood, and down to the edge of the lake.
They made little rafts out of twigs, and they paddled away over the water to Owl Island to gather nuts.
Each squirrel had a little sack and a large oar, and spread out his tail for a sail.
They also took with them an offering of three fat mice as a present for Old Brown, and put them down upon his doorstep.
Then Twinkleberry and the other little squirrels each made a low bow, and said politely--
"Old Mr. Brown, will you favour us with permission to gather nuts upon your island?"
But Nutkin was excessively impertinent in his manners. He bobbed up and down like a little red CHERRY, singing--
"Riddle me, riddle me, rot-tot-tote! A little wee man, in a red red coat!
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A staff in his hand, and a stone in his throat;
If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a groat."
Now this riddle is as old as the hills; Mr. Brown paid no attention whatever to Nutkin. He shut his eyes obstinately and went to sleep.
The squirrels filled their little sacks with nuts, and sailed away home in the evening.
But next morning they all came back again to Owl Island; and Twinkleberry and the others brought a fine fat mole, and laid it on the stone in front of Old Brown's doorway, and said--
"Mr. Brown, will you favour us with your gracious permission to gather some more nuts?"
But Nutkin, who had no respect, began to dance up and down, tickling old Mr. Brown with a NETTLE and singing--
"Old Mr. B! Riddle-me-ree! Hitty Pitty within the wall, Hitty Pitty without the wall; If you touch Hitty Pitty, Hitty Pitty will bite you!"
Mr. Brown woke up suddenly and carried the mole into his house.
He shut the door in Nutkin's face. Presently a little thread of blue SMOKE from a wood fire came up from the top of the tree, and
Nutkin peeped through the keyhole and sang--
"A house full, a hole full!
And you cannot gather a bowl-full!"
The squirrels searched for nuts all over the island and filled their little sacks.
But Nutkin gathered oak-apples-- yellow and scarlet--and sat upon a beech-stump playing marbles, and watching the door of old
Mr. Brown.
On the third day the squirrels got up very early and went fishing; they caught seven fat minnows as a present for Old Brown.
They paddled over the lake and landed under a crooked chestnut tree on Owl Island.
Twinkleberry and six other little squirrels each carried a fat minnow; but Nutkin, who had no nice manners, brought no present at
all. He ran in front, singing--
"The man in the wilderness said to me,
`How may strawberries grow in the sea?'
I answered him as I thought good--
`As many red herrings as grow in the wood."'
But old Mr. Brown took no interest in riddles--not even when the answer was provided for him.
On the fourth day the squirrels brought a present of six fat beetles, which were as good as plums in PLUM-PUDDING for Old
Brown. Each beetle was wrapped up carefully in a dockleaf, fastened with a pine-needle- pin. But Nutkin sang as rudely as ever--
"Old Mr. B! riddle-me-ree!
Flour of England, fruit of Spain, Met together in a shower of rain;
Put in a bag tied round with a string,
If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a ring!"
Which was ridiculous of Nutkin, because he had not got any ring to give to Old Brown.
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The other squirrels hunted up and down the nut bushes; but Nutkin gathered robin's pin-cushions off a briar bush, and stuck them
full of pine-needle-pins.
On the fifth day the squirrels brought a present of wild honey; it was so sweet and sticky that they licked their fingers as they put it down upon the stone. They had stolen it out of a bumble BEES' nest on the tippity top of the hill.
But Nutkin skipped up and down, singing--
"Hum-a-bum! buzz! buzz! Hum-a-bum buzz!
As I went over Tipple-tine