time: I have not used any bad words, nor
have I gnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor
have I worried my mother by running behind the flour-barrel
where that horrid trap is set. In fact, I have been so good that
I am very sure Santa Claus will bring me something very pretty."

This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact the old
clock fell to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment
she struck twelve instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless
and therefore to be reprehended.

"Why, you silly little mauve mouse," said the old clock, "you
don't believe in Santa Claus, do you?"

"Of course I do," answered the little mauve mouse. "Believe in
Santa Claus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a
beautiful butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely
gingersnap, and a delicious rind of cheese, and--and--lots of
things? I should be very ungrateful if I did _not_ believe in
Santa Claus, and I certainly shall not disbelieve in him at the
very moment when I am expecting him to arrive with a bundle of
goodies for me.

"I once had a little sister," continued the little mauve mouse,
"who did not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the
fate that befell her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers
stand on end. She died before I was born, but my mother has told
me all about her. Perhaps you never saw her: her name was
Squeaknibble, and she was in stature one of those long, low,
rangy mice that are seldom found in well-stocked pantries.
Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who came
from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people
and the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed.
Squeaknibble seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most
conspicuous of which was a disposition to sneer at some of the
most respected dogmas in mousedom. From her very infancy she
doubted, for example, the widely accepted theory that the moon
was composed of green cheese; and this heresy was the first
intimation her parents had of the sceptical turn of her mind.
Of course her parents were vastly annoyed, for their maturer
natures saw that this youthful scepticism portended serious,
if not fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the sagacious
couple reason and plead with their headstrong and heretical
child.

"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was
any such archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the
contrary one m