e, one
chilly afternoon. "Your gran'ther has smelled a trap."

"Scat!" answered the small mouse--"'s if I don't know a trap when I see
it!" And that was all the thanks she got for her good advice.

"Go your own way, for you will go no other," the wise old mouse said to
herself; and she scratched her nose slowly and sadly as she watched her
grandson scamper up the cellar stairs.

"Ah!" sniffed he, poking his whiskers into a crack of the dining-room
cupboard, "cheese--as I'm alive!" Scuttle--scuttle. "I'll be squizzled,
if it isn't in that cunning little house; I know what that is--a
cheese-house, of course. What a very snug hall! That's the way with
cheese-houses. I know, 'cause I've heard the dairymaid talk about 'em.
It must be rather inconvenient, though, to carry milk up that step and
through an iron door. I know why it's so open--to let in fresh air. I
tell you, that cheese is good! Kind of a reception-room in there--guess
I know a reception-room from a hole in the wall. No trouble at all about
getting in, either. Wouldn't grandmother open her eyes to see me here!
Guess I'll take another nibble at that cheese, and go out. What's that
noise? What in squeaks is the matter with the door? This is a
cheese-house, I know it is--but what if it should turn out to be
a--O-o-o-eeee!" And that's just what it did turn out to be.

[Illustration: End of ye Tale]

#RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"#

A BOY'S MOTHER[O]

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

My mother she's so good to me,
Ef I was good as I could be,
I couldn't be as good--no, sir!--
Can't any boy be good as her.

She loves me when I'm glad er sad;
She loves me when I'm good er bad;
An', what's a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.

I don't like her to punish me--
That don't hurt--but it hurts to see
Her cryin'.--Nen _I_ cry; an' nen
We both cry an' be good again.

She loves me when she cuts an' sews
My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;
An' when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him 'most as much as me.

She laughs an' tells him all I said,
An' grabs me up an' pats my head;
An' I hug _her_, an' hug my Pa,
An' love him purt' nigh much as Ma.

[O] From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley. Used by special
permission of the publishers. The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

MOTHER

BY ROSE FYLEMAN

When mother comes ea