Little Jack Rabbit's big blue book

Goodness me! Up jumped Little Jack Rabbit. You remember that the tired little bunny boy had been too sleepy to hop upstairs after playing a game of pinochle with Uncle John Hare, and had fallen asleep in a big arm chair for the night. That’s where we left him, and now we find him wide awake.

quacked Mrs. Daisy Duck, the old gentleman hare’s housekeeper.

“I’ll hurry,” answered the little rabbit boy, and in less than a jiffy he had combed his hair down the middle of his back, washed his paws and repeated the little verse that Lady Love, his pretty bunny mother, had taught him:

“Every day in every way, I grow better and better.”

After that he and his big appetite hopped into the dining room. There stood dear Uncle John Hare, looking over the Turnip City News.

“Well, how did you sleep?” he asked, gazing up over his spectacles.

“Tip top,” replied his small bunny nephew. “I never heard a thing until the Big Red Rooster went ‘cock-a-doodle-do’ on his little tin horn. I guess he woke me up.”

“I imagine so,” replied the old gentleman bunny, with a twinkle in his eye. “My, but you were tired last night after your long ride. Let’s see what Mrs. Daisy Duck has for us.”

Then down sat the two little rabbits as the nice old lady duck waddled in with carrot coffee, clover cereal and buckwheat cakes covered with pink lollypop syrup. Oh, me, oh, my! wasn’t the breakfast good! Well I guess yes three times and maybe four.

Just then somebody knocked on the door, one, two, three, bingo!

“Who’s that, I wonder?” exclaimed Uncle John Hare.

“I’ll see,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck. “You go on with your breakfast. Most likely it’s the gas man with a bill.”

But it wasn’t. No, it was somebody else, only worse. I guess sometimes we ought to be thankful it’s only the gas man!

“Who is it?” asked the old gentleman bunny, as Mrs. Daisy Duck returned with a worried expression on her face and a piece of paper in her bill.

answered Mrs. Daisy Duck.

“Who is it and what does he want and what’s his name?” asked the old gentleman hare, pulling the napkin from under his chin to wipe his gold-rimmed spectacles instead of his whiskers. Wasn’t that careless of him? Well I should say so, especially as there wasn’t a drop of syrup on them,—I mean his spectacles of course, not his whiskers.

“Read this note,” whispered Mrs. Daisy Duck, looking anxiously over her shoulder as if fearing somebody or something might suddenly come in through the half open door.

Uncle John Hare quickly opened the envelope and read:

“Dear, oh, dear!” exclaimed the poor old gentleman bunny, dropping this dreadful note on the carpet, “what shall I do?”

“Do something quick,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, glancing timidly over her shoulder. Indeed she had already almost twisted her long neck into a bowknot.

“All right,” answered the old gentleman hare with a sigh, hopping over to a big iron safe in the corner and squatting down to turn back and forth the little silver knob. Over the door was printed in big gold letters:

But, dear me! He was so nervous that the door wouldn’t obey his trembling paw. Over and over, around and around, he turned the little knob, repeating the combination half aloud:

Just then a loud knocking came at the kitchen door.

“Please hurry,” cried the frightened lady duck housekeeper, looking anxiously into the kitchen. “The messenger is at the back door.”

“Dear, dear! I’m all muddled up!” cried the old gentleman hare.

shouted a voice.

“Wait, wait a minute,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck through the keyhole. “Mr. John Hare is trying to open his safe. You make so much noise he can’t find the combination.”

For a little while the knocking ceased. But, dear me! Uncle John Hare couldn’t remember the combination. Scratching his long left ear with his right hind foot, he turned to Little Jack Rabbit with a sigh.

“Maybe you can unlock it.”

But the little rabbit boy was no more successful. No indeed, although he turned the knob around and started all over again. I guess he never would have found the combination if Bobbie Redvest, the dear little friendly robin, hadn’t hopped to the open window.

he whispered.

At once the little rabbit followed the pretty robin’s directions and in less time than I can take to tell it, the safe door flew open and out rolled a million carrot cents, each one counting out loud as it touched the floor! “One, Two, Three,” and so on, right up to a million! Wasn’t that wonderful? Well, I just guess it was. I never had a Flying Eagle Cent that could count more than one!

“Get a bag,” whispered Uncle John Hare, and filling it with carrot cents that good lady duck housekeeper opened the kitchen door, and handed it to an ugly little dwarf.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, touching his red peaked hat with a crooked forefinger. Then slinging the bag over his shoulder, he trudged around the house and through the little gateway in the white picket fence to the Fairy Forest that lay some two thousand hops to the North of Turnip City.

“Has he gone?” asked Uncle John Hare, dusting off his knees and pulling down his pink waistcoat. “Are you sure he’s gone?”

“Yes, yes,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, with a happy quack. “He’s gone, thank goodness! I hope he’ll not come back for many a year.”

“Never can tell,” mused the old gentleman rabbit. “The Ragged Rabbit Giant will return more than a million carrot cents in less time than that.”

“Trust the fairies,” cautioned Bobbie Redvest. “They have asked the giant to lend them money,” and away fluttered the little bird to the old apple tree.

But even after Bobbie Redvest had cautioned Little Jack Rabbit that curious little bunny boy wanted to hop over to the Fairy Forest.

“No, sireebus!” cried Uncle John Hare. “You do what that little robin says and you’ll not go far wrong.”

“All right, Uncle John,” answered the little bunny boy cheerfully, for he was a good little rabbit and had learned to obey his elders without sulking, which is the better way, after all. For when we do a thing with a smile it’s so much easier. I wonder why, but maybe you know, little reader. If not, Mother will tell you, as sure as lollypops come on sticks and ice cream in cones.

Well, the little bunny boy rabbit had a lovely visit and when it came time for him to take the Stagecoach home he kissed Uncle John Hare good-by, nor did he forget Mrs. Daisy Duck. “Good-by, good-by!” he shouted from his seat beside the Old Dog Driver.

“Come again soon,” cried the old gentleman hare, waving his stovepipe hat. “Give my love to Mother.”

Away rattled the Billy Goat Stage Coach across Lettuce Square, down Potato Street and out on Radish Road that led to Rabbitville, fifteen thousand five hundred hops to the south.

By and by the Old Dog Driver took his pipe out of his mouth and shouted, “Carrot City!” Then pulling in his team of billy goats, waited for an old gander to alight. It took the old feathered gentleman quite a while to flop down the two little steps at the back of the stage, but at last he was safely on the ground. Then as soon as a fat lady pig, wearing a purple sunbonnet and black mitts, had seated herself, the Old Dog Driver clicked his teeth with his tongue and said “Gid-ap!”

Away bounded the billy goat team, shaking their horns, which were tipped with little gold thimbles, and throwing out their hoofs, shod with bright steel shoes. By and by they came to Lettucemere, a pretty village by the Bubbling Brook. Here the Lady Pig got out and in jumped a big mooly cow. Mrs. O’Mooly was her name. She wore a big yellow hat and a pink shirt waist and on her two hind feet a pair of white kid boots. My, but she was a stylish looking lady cow.

“Gid-ap!” clicked the Old Dog Driver, and away went the nimble little billy goats until by and by, after a while, and a bump and a smile, they came to the Old Bramble Patch. There at the gate stood Lady Love, the little rabbit’s pretty mother. Her simple gingham dress with white lace collar seemed a beautiful gown to the little rabbit, and her eyes two stars as she folded him to her breast and whispered, “Home again to Mother.”