THE MOUSE
AND THE MOONBEAM
THE MOUSE
AND THE MOONBEAM
BY
EUGENE FIELD
NEW YORK
1919
Copyright, 1912
by Charles Scribner’s Sons
Through the courtesy of Charles Scribner’s Sons, we were permittedto print this small private edition.
GIFT
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THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM
hilst you were sleeping, littleDear-my-soul, strange things happened; but that I saw and heard them,I should never have believed them. The clock stood, of course, inthe corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the floor, and a littlemauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner and frisked andscampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. The little mauvemouse was particularly merry; sometimes she danced upon two legsand sometimes upon four legs, but always very daintily and always verymerrily.
“Ah, me!” sighed the old clock, “how different miceare nowadays from the mice we used to have in the good old times! Nowthere was your grandma, Mistress Velvetpaw,[8]and there was your grandpa, Master Sniffwhisker,—how graveand dignified they were! Many a night have I seen them dancing upon thecarpet below me, but always the stately minuet and never that crazyfrisking which you are executing now, to my surprise—yes, and tomy horror, too.”
“But why shouldn’t I be merry?” asked the littlemauve mouse. “Tomorrow is Christmas, and this is Christmaseve.”
“So it is,” said the old clock. “I had reallyforgotten all about it. But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, littleMiss Mauve Mouse?”
“A great deal to me!” cried the little mauve mouse.“I have been very good a very long time: I have not usedany bad words, nor have I gnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canaryseed, nor have I worried my mother by running behind the flour-barrelwhere that horrid trap is set. In fact, I have been so good that Iam very sure Santa Claus will bring me something very pretty.”
This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact the old clockfell to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she strucktwelve instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and thereforeto be reprehended.
[9]
“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 SantaClaus bring me a beautiful butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovelygingersnap, and a delicious rind of cheese,and—and—lots of things? I should be very ungrateful ifI did not believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly shall notdisbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him to arrivewith a bundle of goodies for me.
“I once had a little sister,” continued the little mauvemouse, “who did not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thoughtof the fate that befell her makes my blood run cold and my whiskersstand on end. She died before I was born, but my mo