Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty

“Oh, Uncle Wiggily, Uncle Wiggily,” called a jolly voice one day outside the hollow stump bungalow, where Mr. Longears, the rabbit gentleman, lived with Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper.

“Ha! I wonder if that’s Sammie or Susie Littletail, or Johnnie or Billie Bushytail?” asked Uncle Wiggily, as he turned a leaf of the cabbage newspaper he was reading.

“That’s Baby Bunty,” said Nurse Jane. “I guess she wants you to take her for a ride in her little red carriage. I see she has it out in front.”

“Oh, I can’t play with Baby Bunty today!” said Uncle Wiggily quickly. “I must go over and call on Grandfather Goosey Gander.”

“Baby Bunty will be so disappointed,” spoke Nurse Jane.

“It’s too bad,” agreed Mr. Longears. “But I must have a little rest and quiet. Baby Bunty is so lively!”

“Well, she keeps you that way, too,” said the muskrat lady. “And, on the whole, perhaps it is a good thing for you. I believe you have become younger these last two weeks.”

“Hum!” said Uncle Wiggily, noncommital like and unconvinced. “Anyhow I can’t play with Baby Bunty this morning.”

And when he told this to the little rabbit girl, whom he had found in a hollow stump, she said:

“Oh, dear! Then I’ll have to go off in the woods by myself and pick wild flowers. But will you play with me some other time, Uncle Wiggily, and chase me and have a game of tag and all that?”

“Yes,” promised Uncle Wiggily, as he put on his tall silk hat, and looked to see if his pink nose was twinkling properly, “I’ll play with you later.”

So he went one way through the woods, and Baby Bunty went another, pushing her carriage, in which she often used to be wheeled when she was smaller than she was now.

“Don’t get lost!” said Uncle Wiggily, as he waved his paw to the little rabbit girl.

“I’ll try not to,” she said.

Uncle Wiggily had a nice visit with his old friend, Grandfather Goosey Gander. They talked about the time when they were young and spry.

“But I’m getting old and stiff now,” said Uncle Wiggily.

“You need some one to keep you lively,” quacked Grandpa Goosey.

“Oh, I have some one!” laughed Mr. Longears. “You should see Baby Bunty! Say, now I think of it, come on back to my hollow stump bungalow and stay to lunch. I’ll show you Baby Bunty—if she’s home. But she’s nearly always out in the woods, hopping around. She started off with her carriage just before I came here. Perhaps she went to get some one to give her a ride, as I had no time. Come and see Baby Bunty.”

“I will!” promised Grandfather Goosey Gander.

Together he and Uncle Wiggily went through the woods. But they had not traveled very far before, all at once, Grandpa Goosey cried:

“Look there, Uncle Wiggily! What’s that rolling down the hill in front of us? It looks like a baby carriage!”

“It is!” cried Mr. Longears, as he peered through his spectacles. “It’s Baby Bunty’s carriage, and it’s running away down hill. Oh, she’ll be hurt! I must hop after that carriage and stop it!”

“You never can catch that carriage!” quacked Grandpa Goosey. “It’s rolling down hill too fast! You are so old and stiff, like myself——”

“Am I old and stiff?” cried Uncle Wiggily. “You just watch me hop!”

He jammed his tall silk hat down on his head, took a tight hold of his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, and down the hill he leaped.

Faster and faster rolled Baby Bunty’s carriage! Faster and faster hopped Uncle Wiggily, his coat tails streaming out behind like two girls’s hair ribbons.

“I’ll save you, Bunty! I’ll save you!” cried the rabbit gentleman. “Don’t jump out of the carriage. I’ll get you! I can hop fast, even if I am stiff!”

With one big, extra long hop he reached the carriage, and caught hold of it in his paws just as it was going to tip over. He looked inside, thinking to see Baby Bunty half frightened out of her eye teeth, but, instead, there was only a big bouquet of wild flowers.

“Well! Well! What does this mean?” asked Uncle Wiggily, all out of breath, but still not stiff any more. “What is all this?”

“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” cried Baby Bunty, from the top of the hill, where she stood with Grandpa Goosey, “did you think I was in that runaway carriage?”

“I certainly did!” answered Mr. Longears.

“Why, I wasn’t at all!” laughed Baby Bunty. “I just used it to hold the wild flowers I picked. And when I wheeled it to the top of the hill it slipped away from me, and ran down. My! But you did run fast, Uncle Wiggily!”

“I should say he did!” quacked Granda Goosey. “Faster than I ever saw him hop before.”

“But it’s good for his rheumatism,” spoke Baby Bunty.

Mr. Longears never said a word as he wheeled the carriage up hill. But if the ice cream doesn’t melt when the gas stove asks it to dance the fox trot, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s party.