one day, when neddie and beckie stubtail, the little bear children, came home from school, they saw in the dining-room uncle wigwag, the funny old gentleman bear, who was always playing jokes. and uncle wigwag was laughing and chuckling, and giggling to himself, bobbing up and down, and tickling himself on his ribs to make himself laugh all the harder. and then he’d sit down in a chair and hold his sides with his paws because they ached so from his jollity.
“why, what in the world can be the matter with uncle wigwag?” asked beckie, dropping her books, and hurrying toward him.
“maybe he’s sick,” suggested neddie. “i guess i’d better run for dr. possum.”
“sick! he isn’t sick at all!” exclaimed aunt piffy, the fat old lady bear. “he’s just up to some of his tricks. if you ever joke with me again that way,” she went on, looking at uncle wigwag sort of sharp-like, “if ever you do that 208again, i’ll never give you any maple sugar on your honey cakes.”
“oh, what did he do? tell us!” cried neddie and beckie, while uncle wigwag laughed harder than ever.
“why he came home from the five-and-ten-cent store—i guess it must have been,” explained aunt piffy, “and he gave me a box to open. he asked me if i didn’t want a new side hair comb, and of course i did. well, when i opened the box out popped a green snake. i was so scared that i ran down cellar and hid, and i nearly lost my breath, and could hardly find it again. oh, dear!” and aunt piffy fanned herself with her apron, she was so warm.
“well,” said uncle wigwag, and he stopped laughing long enough to talk. “i really didn’t say there was a side comb in the box, aunt piffy. besides, it wasn’t really a snake, you know,” he said, turning to neddie and beckie. “it was only a snake made of paper, with a spring inside like a jack-in-the-box.”
“oh, i know,” said neddie. “where is it? let me take it, and i’ll play a joke on some of the fellows at school.”
“take it!” exclaimed aunt piffy. “i don’t want to see it again. and mind you!” she said to uncle wigwag, shaking her paw at him, “if 209you joke with me any more—no maple sugar on your fried eggs for breakfast.”
“oh, i’ll be good,” said the old bear gentleman.
but it was very hard for uncle wigwag to stop playing jokes. a little later that afternoon he gave beckie what she thought was a candy egg, and when she tried to bite into it, thinking it was nice and sweet, the egg popped open, and a little chicken inside, made of paper and feathers, crowed just like a rooster, and beckie nearly jumped out of her hair ribbon, she was so surprised.
“ha! ha!” laughed uncle wigwag. “that was a good joke!”
“i don’t think so,” said beckie, sort of sorrowful-like.
“don’t you? well, maybe it wasn’t,” spoke uncle wigwag. “anyhow, here’s a penny for you to buy some real candy.” uncle wigwag was always that way—first he’d play a joke on you and then he’d do you a kindness. he was quite nice after all.
and a little later neddie was looking for a pencil to write down some of his home school-work on his paper pad.
“here’s a good pencil,” said uncle wigwag, taking one from his pocket. neddie didn’t think 210anything, and started to write with the pencil. but, as soon as he did so, it bounced out of his paw and jumped around on the floor. for inside it was a jumping-jack. it was a trick pencil, you know, and uncle wigwag had played another joke.
“excuse me while i laugh,” said the old gentleman bear. and neddie laughed, too, for he rather liked the trick pencil.
and then uncle wigwag played another trick. oh, but he was full of them that day! wasn’t he? i guess he must have been roaming around two or three five-and-ten-cent stores to find those jokes.
the last trick uncle wigwag played was on mr. whitewash, the white polar bear gentleman. mr. whitewash used to have a cup of tea every afternoon, while he sat down to read in the paper about whether it was going to be cold or hot the next day.
mr. whitewash used to sit on a cake of ice, you know, because he liked everything cold, except his tea, and he did not like warm weather at all.
well, he was sitting there, reading his paper, and sort of not looking what he was doing. he reached out his paw to take his cup of tea, with his eyes still on the paper, and when he picked 211up the cup and started to drink from it, there was no tea in it. instead, uncle wigwag had put in some ink, and when mr. whitewash, not looking at it, started to drink it, the ink spilled all over his white fur. it made him look like a spotted clown in the circus.
“ha, ha!” laughed uncle wigwag. “that’s a fine joke!”
“i don’t think so,” said mr. whitewash. “and you had better look out, or i’ll play a joke on you.”
then uncle wigwag felt sorry he had done such a thing, and he helped mr. whitewash clean the ink off his white fur. neddie and beckie helped also. and a little later the polar bear gentleman said to the two children:
“you just watch and see what a trick i shall play on uncle wigwag.”
so neddie and beckie watched, though they didn’t see anything for some time. but toward dark that evening, when neddie was bringing in his wood to fill the box behind the kitchen stove, he heard some one crying in the fields across the way from the bear cave.
“help! help! oh, help!” called a voice.
“why, who can that be?” asked beckie, who was watching neddie bring in the wood.
212“i’m sure i don’t know,” answered the little bear boy, “but i’m going to see.”
“oh, you’d better not,” spoke beckie. “maybe it’s the bad old lion.”
“yes, and maybe it’s uncle wiggily, the nice rabbit gentleman. he may be in trouble,” went on neddie. “come on, it isn’t far. we’ll go see. we must help uncle wiggily, you know.”
there was no one else in the bear cave just then to go to the help of whoever was calling, as mrs. stubtail and aunt piffy had gone over to the house of mrs. kat, the kitten children’s mamma, to ask about making sugar pie. so neddie and beckie had to do whatever they were going to do all by themselves.
they hurried on toward where they heard the voice. it was still calling:
“help! help! oh, will no one help me?”
“yes, we are coming!” answered neddie, and then he and beckie ran around the corner by a stump, and they saw, sitting there, uncle wigwag, the old joking bear gentleman himself. he did not seem to be in any trouble, and the bear children wondered what had happened to him.
“help! help!” he called.
“why, what is the matter?” asked neddie. “if you are in trouble why don’t you come away? i see no one hurting you.”
213“no, you can’t see it, but i’m in trouble just the same,” said the bear gentleman making a funny face. “i am frozen fast to a cake of ice!”
“frozen to a cake of ice?” said beckie in surprise.
“yes. it’s a trick played on me by mr. whitewash, but i am not complaining about it. it serves me right for playing so many jokes to-day, especially the one on him with the ink.
“i was walking along, thinking of a new joke to try, when i saw what i thought was a nice seat here by this old stump. the seat had a blanket over the top, and a sign saying:
‘please sit down on me!’
“well, of course, i sat down, and before i knew it i was frozen fast. you see there was a cake of ice under the blanket, and i’m sure mr. whitewash put it there, just to fool me.”
“i guess he did,” said neddie, and he could hardly keep from laughing, for uncle wigwag looked so funny, frozen fast.
“can’t you help me?” asked the bear gentleman. “you see mr. whitewash can sit on a cake of ice without freezing to it, for he is used to living at the north pole, but i am not. oh, dear! i’m 214freezing tighter and tighter. i may have to stay here all night.”
“oh, no, we will help you,” said neddie kindly. so he and beckie blew their warm breath on the cake of ice, and soon it was melted enough so that uncle wigwag could pull himself loose. and very glad, indeed, he was to get up. then along came mr. whitewash saying, as he combed his claws through his white fur:
“well, i see my trick worked after all.”
“yes,” spoke uncle wigwag, “it did. and it served me right. now let’s all go and have some hot chocolate, for i am chilled through.” so they had the hot chocolate in the drug store, and everybody was happy, and uncle wigwag didn’t play any more tricks until the next time.
and if the cat in our back yard doesn’t try to walk across the clothes line and fall off into the ash can, i’ll tell you next about beckie stubtail and her wax doll.
