“oh, see it snow!” exclaimed neddie stubtail, the little boy bear, as he looked out of the window of the cave-house. “look, beckie!”
“i can’t, neddie, dear,” said the little girl bear. “i am making a new dress for my wax doll, clarabelle sarahjane peartree, and if i look up i may drop a stitch or two.”
“oh, if you drop them i’ll pick them up,” said neddie most politely.
beckie laughed.
“you don’t understand,” she said. “when you are sewing and drop a stitch it means you let it slip out of the cloth. it doesn’t drop on the floor.”
“i don’t understand,” said neddie; “i admit that. but anyhow it’s snowing, and i’m going out and have some fun.”
“i will come, too, as soon as i get this doll’s dress done,” answered beckie. “but i have to put some frills down the middle and some plaits 232up the side. then around one edge there is to go some lace, and on the other some insertion and——”
“that’s enough,” cried neddie. “i give up! i’m going out and make a snowball, and there won’t be any lace on it, nor any tucks, either.”
“oh, you boys!” said beckie with a sigh, as she threaded her needle with a fine piece of corn silk that she was using to sew her doll’s dress.
so neddie went out to play in the snow, and while he was hopping about, making snowballs and throwing them up in the air to watch them come down, and now and then rolling over and over in the snow to make himself look white like mr. whitewash, the polar bear—while neddie was doing this, his sister beckie was sewing her doll’s dress.
pretty soon she had it nearly finished, so she laid it aside, and put her needle safely away where uncle wigwag or aunt piffy, the fat old lady bear, would not sit on it by mistake, and then beckie went out to play with her brother neddie.
the two bear children had lots of fun in the snow, and in a little while neddie said:
“let’s go over in the woods, beckie. maybe we’ll find a lemon pie or a pollylop, or something like that.”
233“what’s a pollylop?” asked beckie, as she caught a snowflake on the end of her tongue, just as the clown in the circus catches a little piggie by his tail. “i never heard of a pollylop, neddie.”
“why,” said the little bear boy, “a pollylop is just like a lollypop only different. you see a lollypop is a stick with a lump of candy on one end.”
“oh, yes, i know that,” answered beckie.
“and a pollylop,” went on neddie, “is a lump of candy, with a stick on one end.”
“oh, i see what you mean!” exclaimed beckie with a laugh. “one is upside down and the other——”
“the other is downside up,” finished her brother, as he turned a peppersault into a bank of snow, and came out on the other side with a feather sticking in his ear.
“oh, look at that!” exclaimed beckie. “where did you get that feather, neddie?”
“why, i don’t know,” he answered, scratching his left paw with his right ear. “i guess it must have come out of the snowbank.”
“feathers don’t grow in snowbanks, neddie,” spoke beckie.
“no more they do,” he answered, taking this 234one from his ear and looking at it. “i guess this feather must be off a chicken or a turkey, beckie.”
“no, it isn’t large enough for a chicken’s or a turkey’s feather,” said beckie. “it must be from a little bird. but what would a bird be doing in a snowbank?”
and just then the two little bear children heard a voice crying:
“oh, dear! how cold i am! oh, i am almost frozen!”
“oh, the poor thing!” exclaimed beckie. “that’s a poor little birdie in the snowbank, neddie. you must get him out and we’ll warm him.”
“how?” asked the little bear boy. “how can you warm him?”
“oh, i’ll find a way,” said beckie.
“all right. then i’ll dive into the snowbank again,” said neddie. and into the snow he went, scattering it carefully about with his paws until, down near the bottom, on the ground, covered with the white flakes, and almost frozen, was a poor little birdie.
“oh, the dear little thing!” cried beckie, as neddie brought out the birdie in his paws, holding it carefully so as not to squeeze it.
235“cheep! cheep!” went the cold little birdie. that was all it could say.
“quick, neddie!” exclaimed beckie. “you run home and get me some nice warm milk in a bottle. aunt piffy will heat it for you. bring it back here to me, and some bread crumbs, too, i’ll feed the little birdie.”
“but why don’t you bring it home with you?” neddie wanted to know.
“because i don’t want to carry it through the cold air,” answered beckie. “i’m going to warm the birdie in my fur while you are gone after the milk.”
so neddie ran back home to the cave-house, and beckie sat down on a stump that stuck up above the snow, and in her warm fur beckie cuddled the cold birdie, holding her paws over it to keep off the frosty north wind.
“cheep! cheep!” went the small birdie, and soon it was nice and warm and could flutter its wings a little.
“do you feel better now?” asked beckie.
“oh, much better,” answered the fluttering creature. “thank you so much for warming me.”
“but how did you happen to get in the snowbank?” asked beckie.
236“it was this way,” explained the bird. “yesterday all my friends and brothers and sisters flew away down south, where it is warm. but i stayed to have a game of tag with lulu wibblewobble, the duck girl, and i was left behind. then it got colder and colder, and i could not fly. i fell into the snow and there i stayed until you came to get me out. i can never thank you enough.”
“pray do not think of that,” said beckie most politely. “i am glad we could save you. i suppose it was your feather that stuck in neddie’s ear when he took a peppersault dive through the snow.”
“yes,” said the birdie, “it was a loose one from my tail. and it is a good thing it came off, otherwise you would never have known i was here.”
“very true,” answered beckie. then she warmed the poor, cold little birdie some more in her fur, and wondered when neddie would be back with the hot milk and the bread crumbs.
all of a sudden, as beckie was sitting there on the stump, warming the birdie, out from behind an old apple tree came the biggest fox beckie had ever seen. he was much larger than the little bear girl. in fact, he must have been the grandfather of all the foxes.
237“wuff! wuff! wuff!” barked the fox. “i can see where my christmas dinner is coming from.”
“from where?” asked beckie, as bravely as she could, though really she was much frightened.
“from you and that bird,” answered the bad fox. “i am going to carry you both off to my den, and what a christmas dinner i will have!”
well, he was just going to jump and grab beckie, when the little birdie that wasn’t cold any more, but nice and warm, thanks to beckie’s fur—that little bird just flew right into the face of that fox, and with its sharp beak the bird picked the fox on the end of his nose as hard as anything.
“oh, wow!” cried the fox. “i guess i have made a mistake! i don’t want a christmas dinner off you at all.”
“i guess you don’t!” chirped the birdie, pecking him on the nose again, and the fox ran away, taking his bushy tail with him, and beckie and the birdie were safe. then beckie warmed the birdie some more in her fur, and pretty soon along came neddie with the hot milk and bread crumbs, and the birdie ate as much as it wanted.
then beckie and neddie took the birdie home with them to keep it in the warm cave until summer should come again; and everybody was 238happy except the fox with the sore nose, and it served him right. and in the next story, if the dinner plate doesn’t get hungry and bite a piece out of the salt dish, i’ll tell you about neddie helping santa claus.
