“oh, dear!”
“what’s the matter?”
“where’s all that smoke coming from?”
“oh, ker-choo! wuzz! fuzz!”
“snicker-snacker-snookum!”
every one seemed shouting at once.
there was great excitement in the cave-house, where the stubtail family of bears lived. neddie and beckie, the two little bear children, had jumped out of bed and were choking and sneezing in the hall.
“why, the house is filled with smoke!” cried out aunt piffy, the fat old lady bear, and she puffed so hard because her breath nearly got away from her, that she almost slid downstairs.
“is the house on fire?” asked papa stubtail, as he looked around for a pail of water.
“maybe this is one of uncle wigwag’s tricks,” said beckie, as she wiped the tears out of her eyes. she wasn’t exactly crying, you 128understand, but you know smoke always makes tears come into your eyes.
“no, no! there’s no fire!” called mamma stubtail, from down in the kitchen. “i was getting breakfast when the stovepipe suddenly fell down. i guess you’ll have to come and fix it, hiram,” she called to mr. stubtail. his first name was hiram, you see.
“let me do it,” said mr. whitewash, the polar bear, and before any one else could hurry down to the kitchen mr. whitewash had slid down the stairs, and soon he had the stovepipe in place again, and the stove cooked things without smoking, and mrs. stubtail finished getting breakfast.
but that wasn’t all about mr. whitewash and the stovepipe. just you wait until you get to the end of the story and you’ll see.
soon breakfast was over, and beckie and neddie had started for school. then mr. stubtail went to work, and uncle wigwag went over to call on uncle wiggily longears, the rabbit gentleman, to talk about christmas and santa claus.
that left mr. whitewash home with mrs. stubtail, who was washing the breakfast dishes.
“how did the stovepipe happen to come down?” asked mr. whitewash, curious-like.
“i guess it’s getting old and couldn’t stand 129up much longer,” answered the lady bear. “the first i knew it had tumbled over and the smoke poured out.”
“yes, there was lots of smoke,” said mr. whitewash. “we all were frightened. i must take a look at that pipe,” which he did, putting on his glasses so he could see better.
“ha!” he cried, after a bit. “i thought so. that stove needs a new pipe. i’ll go after it and fix it before the children come home. then we won’t have any more trouble when you get up to get the breakfast, mrs. stubtail.”
“that will be very kind of you,” said the lady bear.
so off mr. whitewash went to get the stovepipe. and very nice he looked, too, walking along through the woods and over the fields, with his white fur all combed out like a french poodle’s when he’s had his bath. mr. whitewash was snow-white—and when he walked along sometimes his friends took him for a snowman, and threw snowballs at him. but mr. whitewash never minded that.
well, he got to the stovepipe store all right, but the cow gentleman, who kept it, said:
“i am very sorry, mr. whitewash, but we are all out of stovepipe this morning. i expect some in at the end of the week.”
130“but i cannot wait that long,” said the white polar bear gentleman. “our old pipe may fall down any day, and fill the house with smoke again. then the fire engines will come out and squirt water in our cave, and there’ll be a terrible time. i must have some stovepipe.”
“well, i’ll tell you what i’ll do,” said the cow gentleman. “i sold some pipe to grandfather goosey gander, the duck gentleman, the other day, and after he used it awhile he said he wanted a different kind.
“so he took down that i had sold him, and got some different kind. the old pipe is out in his back yard now, and i think he would give it to you.”
“it will do no harm to ask, anyhow,” said mr. whitewash.
over he went to the house of grandfather goosey gander, and there, surely enough, was the pipe.
“certainly you may have it,” said the duck gentleman. “i am glad to give it to you. but be careful, for it is full of black soot, and it may get on your white coat.”
“oh, i can wrap it up in a paper,” said mr. whitewash, which he did. then, taking care not to get the stovepipe, though it was wrapped up, against his snow-white fur, off mr. whitewash 131started for the cave-house, where he lived with the stubtail family.
did you ever put up a stovepipe? no, i guess you did not. well, it is not easy work, as mr. whitewash soon found. either the pipe he got from grandfather goosey gander was too large to fit in the chimney hole or else the chimney hole was too small to let the pipe slide in. anyhow, mr. whitewash tried and tried again, and once more, but the pipe would not fit.
“i guess i’ll have to get on a stepladder,” said the polar gentleman, breathing hard.
“oh, how black your paws are!” exclaimed aunt piffy, the fat lady bear.
“yes, it comes off the stovepipe,” said mr. whitewash. “please bring the stepladder.”
so aunt piffy and mrs. stubtail went for the ladder, but in bringing it through the kitchen door it slipped and caught on mrs. stubtail’s paws, so that she fell down, and so did the fat lady; and aunt piffy lost her breath.
aunt piffy could hardly get her breath back again, either, but she caught it just as it was slipping out of the door and then she was all right again—at least for a while.
“now i guess i’ll fix this pipe!” cried mr. whitewash, as he stood upon the ladder. carefully 132he shoved the stovepipe into the chimney hole, but still it stuck.
“it must go in!” cried the polar bear gentleman, “or else we can’t have a fire in the stove to cook dinner.”
then he gave a big push on the pipe. but something slipped. part of what slipped was the stepladder and the other part of what slipped was mr. whitewash and the third part of it was the stovepipe.
down they fell in a heap together on the floor.
“oh!” screamed aunt piffy.
“oh, me! oh, my!” cried mrs. stubtail. “shall i get the doctor?”
mr. whitewash didn’t say anything for a little while, and then he remarked:
“please get me a dusting brush!”
and he certainly needed it, for the soot from the stovepipe had scattered all over him, and instead of being a pure white bear, he was speckled black and white now, like those dogs which always run along under a carriage.
but when aunt piffy and mrs. stubtail tried to brush the black soot off mr. whitewash, they found they were only making it worse. the brush scattered the black all over him instead of leaving it only in spots.
“i guess you had better not try,” said mr. 133whitewash. “i’ll take a bath after i get this pipe up.”
“can you get it up?” asked mrs. stubtail.
“of course i can,” said mr. whitewash.
so up on the stepladder the polar bear gentleman got again, and he tried to fix the stovepipe. he almost had it in the chimney hole, and he was just getting ready to holler “hurray!” when, all of a sudden, there was a growling noise at the back door, and mrs. stubtail screamed:
“oh, a lion! here’s a lion coming after us!” and she and aunt piffy ran in the parlor and hid under the sofa.
“bur-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion. “i’m a bad chap from the circus; and i’ve come after beckie and neddie!”
then he roared again, and so loudly that he made the stepladder tremble. this shook it so that mr. whitewash, the polar bear, fell down again. this time the stovepipe landed right on top of his head, like the tall silk hat uncle wiggily longears, the rabbit gentleman, wears. and the soot from the stovepipe scattered all over mr. whitewash some more until he was as black as a piece of coal.
“get out of here!” called mr. whitewash to the bad lion, and the lion was so scared at seeing a white bear suddenly turn black, and wear a stovepipe 134for a hat, that he ran away as fast as he could, taking his tufted tail with him. so he didn’t get neddie or beckie after all, and a little later mr. whitewash got the pipe all nicely fixed.
then he took a bath, for, oh! he was so black! but soon he was as nice and white again as a french poodle. so there was no more trouble with smoke in the stubtail cave-house, and when beckie and neddie came home from school they made molasses taffy on the stove.
so that’s all i can tell you now, but on the page after this, in case our cat doesn’t try to walk the telephone wire and fall off into the rose bush, i’ll tell you about papa stubtail in a trap.
