couraged, turned
sadly away, and disappeared among the fallen leaves.

"Then little Miss Woodmouse took the two acorns out of her mouth, and
looked at them; but her appetite was gone. She threw them away with an
exclamation of sorrow, and putting her little pink pocket-handkerchief
up to her little black eyes, she hurried off to her lonely nest."

"Now that is the whole story, and the moral of it is that we should not
be greedy. Lay it to heart, my Puff, and do not insist upon drinking the
whole of that medicine that Mrs. Posset is preparing for you. You will
have to wake up and take it now, Mousekin, so good-bye for the present!"

Puffy smiled a good-bye, and opened her sweet eyes with the smile still
on her face. I looked back as I stepped out of the window, and will do
her the justice to say that she showed no disposition to be greedy as
far as the medicine was concerned.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII.

OFF TO THE SEA-SHORE.

UNCLE JACK was as good as his word, and the next morning was a busy time
at the Mouse-trap.

[Illustration]

Trunks were packed, jackets were brushed, and wonders were accomplished
in the way of getting ready before breakfast. As I looked in my glass,
there seemed to be only two rooms in the house where there was no bustle
and confusion: one was the nursery, where Puff lay, half-awake and
wondering what all the noise was about; and the other was the room next
to it, where my dear little Fluff was kneeling by the bed, praying that
her darling sister might be "quite all perfectly well" very soon.

And now the carriage was announced; the "good-byes" were softly
whispered at the nursery door, and away went four of my mice, leaving
the poor old Mouse-trap quite deserted, with only Mrs. Posset and the
cook and faithful Tomty, beside the poor little sick mouse.

[Illustration]

A few hours journey on the train brought the travelers to the lovely
sea-shore place where Aunt Grace Wilton was spending the summer: and
what was their delight on leaving the train, to find Aunt Grace herself
waiting for them, with her basket-wagon, and Max, the pretty black pony.
I know Mrs. Wilton, though she does not remember me. I used to pay her
frequent visits when she was a child, and now I go to see Roger, her
little boy, who is a great friend of mine, and a fine little fellow. He
had the scarlet fever when he was two years old, so that his mother had
no fear of his taking it again. Well how all t