So, when Mrs. Meadows had finished, she looked at Tickle-My-Toes to see what he wanted. The rest did the same. But Tickle-My-Toes blushed very red, and looked at his feet.
“You acted as if you wanted to say something,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and if you do, now’s your chance. What’s the matter? Have you run a splinter in your foot? You look as if you wanted to cry.”
“I did want to say something,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.
“What was it?” Mrs. Meadows inquired.
“Nothing much,” answered Tickle-My-Toes, putting his finger in his mouth.
“I declare, I’m ashamed of you,” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. “Here you are mighty1 near as old as I am, and yet trying to play boo-hoo baby.”
“I don’t think you ought to talk that way,” said Tickle-My-Toes. “I thread your needles for you every day, and I do everything you ask me.”
“I know what’s the matter with you,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “You want me to take you in my lap and rock you to sleep.”
“Oh! I don’t!” cried Tickle-My-Toes, blushing again. “I wanted to tell a story I heard, but I’ll go off somewhere and tell it to myself.”
“There wouldn’t be any fun in that,” suggested Buster John.
“No,” said Mrs. Meadows. “Tell the story right here, so we can enjoy it with you.”
“You’ll laugh,” protested Tickle-My-Toes.
“Not unless there’s something in the story to laugh at.”
“This is no laughing story. It’s just as solemn as it can be,” explained Tickle-My-Toes.
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “If there’s anything I like, it is one of those solemn stories that make you feel like you want to go off behind the house and shake hands with yourself, and cry boo-hoo to the ell-and-yard and seven stars.”
Mr. Rabbit’s enthusiastic remark was very encouraging to Tickle-My-Toes, who, after scratching his head a little, and looking around to see if he could find a place to hide when the time came, began his story in this wise:—
“Once upon a time, and in a big town away off yonder somewhere, there lived a little boy who had no father nor mother. He was so small that nobody seemed to care anything about him. But one day a woman, the wife of a baker2, heard him crying in the streets, and carried him into the house, and gave him something to eat, and warmed him by the fire, and after that he felt better.
“The baker himself grumbled3 a great deal when he came home and found what his wife had done. He said he wouldn’t be surprised to come home some day and find his house full of other people’s children. But his wife replied that it would be well enough to complain when he found the house full. As for this little brat4, she said, he wouldn’t fill a milk jar if he was put in it, much less a great big house.
“The baker growled5 and grumbled, but his wife paid no attention to him. She sat in her chair and rocked and sang, and was just as good-natured as she could be. After a while the baker himself got over his grumbling6, and began to laugh. He told his wife that he had sold all his bread that day, and had orders for as much the next day.
“‘Of course,’ said she; ‘but if I had left that child crying in the streets your business would have been ruined before the year is out.’
“‘Maybe so,’ replied the baker.
“Well, the little boy grew very fast, and was as lively as a cricket. The baker’s wife thought as much of him as if he had been her own son, and the baker himself soon came to be very fond of him. He was very smart, too. He learned to watch the fire under the big oven, and to make himself useful in many ways. He played about the oven so much, and was so fond of watching the bread bake and the fire burn, that the baker’s wife called him Sparkle Spry.
“For many years the country where the baker and his wife and Sparkle Spry lived had been at peace with all the other countries. But one day a man from a neighboring country had his nose pulled by somebody in the baker’s country, and then war was declared by the kings and queens, and the people fell to fighting.
“Now, when people fight they must be fed, and the cheapest thing to feed them on is bread. A part of the army camped near the town where the baker lived, and there was a great demand for bread. The baker’s oven was not a large one, and by running it day and night he could only bake three hundred loaves.
“He and his wife baked until they were tired out. They told Sparkle Spry to watch the oven so that the bread wouldn’t burn, and to wake them when it was brown. They were so tired that Sparkle Spry was sorry for them, and he wondered why he wasn’t big enough to take their places, if only for one day and night. While he was thinking and wishing, he saw something moving. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and then he saw an old man, no bigger than a broomstick, and no taller than a teacup, peeping from behind the oven.
“‘Are they all gone?’ he whispered, coming forward a little way.
“‘All who?’ asked Sparkle Spry.
“‘The old ones—the big man and the fat woman.’
“‘They have gone to bed,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘I can call them!’
“‘No, no,’ cried the old man. ‘They are such fools! They don’t know what is good for them. I have been waiting for years to get a chance to show them how to bake bread. Once I showed myself to the man, and he thought I was a snake; once to the woman, and she thought I was a rat. What fools they are!’
“‘Who are you?’ inquired Sparkle Spry. He didn’t like to hear his friends abused.
“‘Well, to-night you can bake all the bread you want to,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘The baker and his wife have been trying to supply the army that is camped here, but their oven is too small. They have worked until they can work no longer, and now they have gone to bed to rest.’
“‘Good!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Shut the door, so they can’t hear us! I’ll show them a thing or two about baking bread.’
“Then he walked close to the hot oven, tapped on it with a little poker9 that he carried in his belt, and called out: ‘Wake up! Get out! Come on! Hurry up! We’ve no time to lose! Show yourselves! Stir about! Be lively!’
“With that, hundreds of little men swarmed10 out of the ash heap behind the oven, some of them sneezing and some rubbing their eyes, but all jumping about with motions as quick as those of a flea11 when he jumps.”
“Oh, please don’t talk about fleas,” pleaded Mr. Rabbit, shuddering12 and scratching himself behind the ear. “It makes the cold chills run up my back. I never hear ’em named but I think I can feel ’em crawling on me.”
“Anyhow, that’s the way the little men jumped about,” said Tickle-My-Toes, resuming his story. “They swarmed in and out of the oven, hot as it was; they swarmed in and out of the flour barrels; they swarmed in and out of the trough where the dough13 was kneaded; and they swarmed in and out of the woodshed.
“The King of the Clinkers stood sometimes on the edge of the oven, sometimes on the edge of the flour barrels, sometimes on the edge of the trough, sometimes on the woodpile, and sometimes at the door of the furnace. And wherever he stood he waved his tiny poker and told the others what to do.
“Some of the little men carried wood to the furnace, some carried flour and water to the trough, some carried dough to the oven, and some brought out the hot and smoking bread. Sparkle Spry watched all this with so much surprise that he didn’t know what to say or do. He saw the loaves of bread rise up in rows as high as the ceiling, and he sat and watched it as dumb as an oyster14. He had seen bread baked, but he had never seen such baking as this.
“Finally the eye of the King of the Clinkers fell on Sparkle Spry. ‘Don’t sit there doing nothing,’ he cried. ‘Go fetch wood and pile it here by the furnace door. You can do that!’
“Sparkle Spry did as he was bid, but though he brought the wood as fast as he could, he found that he couldn’t bring it fast enough. Pretty soon the King of the Clinkers called out to him:
“‘You can rest now. The flour is all gone, and we have hardly begun.’
“‘There’s plenty in the storehouse,’ said Sparkle Spry.
“‘How many barrels?’ asked the King of the Clinkers.
“‘Two hundred,’ Sparkle Spry answered.
“The King of the Clinkers wrung15 his hands in despair. ‘Hardly a mouthful—hardly a mouthful! It will all be gone before the chickens crow for day. But run fetch the key. Two hundred barrels will keep us busy while they last.’
“Sparkle Spry brought the key of the storehouse door, and the little men swarmed in and rolled the barrels out in a jiffy. Only one accident happened. In taking the flour out of one of the barrels, after they had rolled it near the dough trough, one of the little men fell in and would have been drowned but for Sparkle Spry, who felt around in the loose flour and lifted him out.”
“Drowned!” cried Sweetest Susan.
“Of course,” answered Tickle-My-Toes. “Why not? I ought to have said ‘smothered,’ but now that I’ve said ‘drowned’ I’ll stick to it.”
“Better stick to the story,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly,—“Better stick to the story.”
“Now, I think he’s doing very well,” said Mrs. Meadows in an encouraging tone.
“Well,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “the little men worked away until they had baked the two hundred barrels of flour into nice brown loaves of bread. This made five hundred barrels they had used, and that was all the baker had on hand. The fifteen hundred pounds of flour made twenty hundred and odd fat loaves, and these the King of the Clinkers had carried into the storehouse.
“When all this was done, and nicely done, the King of the Clinkers went to the door of the room where the baker and his wife were sleeping. They were snoring as peacefully as two good people ever did. Then he went to the street door and listened.
“‘Get home—get home!’ he cried to the little men. ‘I hear wagons16 rumbling7 on the pavement; they will be here presently for bread.’
“The little men scampered17 this way and that, behind the oven and into the ash heap, and, in a few seconds, all had disappeared.
“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, ‘I want to tell you that I’ve had a splendid time, and I’m very much obliged to you for it. I have enjoyed myself, and I want to make some returns for it. Pretty soon the bread wagons will be at the door clamoring for bread. You will wake the baker and his wife. When they find all their flour made into nice bread they will be very much surprised. They will ask you who did it. You must tell them the truth. They will not believe it, but they’ll be very proud of you. They will be willing to give you anything you want. Tell them you want a wooden horse. They will have it built for you. It must have a window on each side and good strong hinges in the legs. Good-by! I hear the wagons at the door.’
“The King of the Clinkers waved his hand and disappeared behind the oven. The wagons rattled18 near the door, the teamsters cracking their whips and calling for bread for the hungry army. Sparkle Spry ran to the baker and shook him, and ran to the baker’s wife and shook her. They were soon awake, but when the baker learned that the wagons had come for bread, he threw up both hands in despair.
“‘I’m ruined!’ he cried. ‘I ought to have been baking and here I’ve been sleeping! And the army marches away to-day, leaving me with all my stock of flour on hand. Oh, why didn’t the boy wake me?’
“‘Come,’ said his wife; ‘we’ll sell what we’ve got, and not cry over the rest.’
“They went into the storehouse, and there they saw a sight such as they had never seen before. The room was so full of steaming bread that they could hardly squeeze in at the door. From floor to ceiling it was stacked and packed. They sold and sold until every loaf was gone, and then, instead of the bread, the baker and his wife had a sack full of silver money.
“The baker went in to count it, but his wife took it away from him. ‘Not now,’ she said; ‘not until we have thanked this boy.’
“‘You are right!’ cried the baker. ‘It’s the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. How did you manage it?’
“‘Some little men helped me,’ answered Sparkle Spry.
“The woman seized his hands and kissed his fingers. ‘These are the little men,’ she exclaimed.
“‘There’s one thing I’m sorry for,’ said Sparkle Spry.
“‘What is that?’ asked the baker.
“‘Why, we had to burn so much wood.’
“‘Don’t mention it—don’t mention it,’ protested the baker.
“‘Now,’ said the baker’s wife, embracing Sparkle Spry again, ‘you deserve something for making us rich. What shall it be?’
“The baker frowned a little at this, but his brow cleared when Sparkle Spry replied that he wanted a wooden horse built.
“‘You shall have it,’ said the baker’s wife.
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收听单词发音
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1
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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2
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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3
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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4
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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5
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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6
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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7
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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8
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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9
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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10
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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11
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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12
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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13
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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14
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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15
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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16
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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17
scampered
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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19
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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