“H’m’m! it is a little damp,” said Johnny Town-mouse, who was carrying his tail under his arm, out of the mud.
“What is that fearful noise?” he started violently.
“That?” said Timmy Willie, “that is only a cow; I will beg a little milk, they are quite harmless, unless they happen to lie down upon you. How are all our friends?”
Johnny’s account was rather middling. He explained why he was paying his visit so early in the season; the family had gone to the sea-side for Easter; the cook was doing spring cleaning, on board wages, with particular instructions to clear out the mice. There were four kittens, and the cat had killed the canary.
“They say we did it; but I know better,” said Johnny Town-mouse. “Whatever is that fearful racket?”
“That is only the lawn-mower; I will fetch some of the grass clippings presently to make your bed. I am sure you had better settle in the country, Johnny.”
“H’m’m—we shall see by Tuesday week; the hamper is stopped while they are at the sea-side.”
“I am sure you will never want to live in town again,” said Timmy Willie.
But he did. He went back in the very next hamper of vegetables; he said it was too quiet!!
One place suits one person, another place suits another person. For my part I prefer to live in the country, like Timmy Willie.
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