"But who taught his mammy?" persisted Striped Chipmunk.
Grandfather Frog snapped at a foolish green fly, and when it was
safely tucked away inside his white and yellow waistcoat, he turned
once more to his three little visitors, and there was a twinkle in his
big, goggly eyes.
"I see," said he, "that you _will_ have a story, and I suppose that
the sooner I tell it to you, the sooner you will leave me in peace.
Unc' Billy Possum's grandfather a thousand times removed was--"
"Was this way back in the days when the world was young?" interrupted
Peter.
Grandfather Frog scowled at Peter. "If I have any more interruptions,
there will be no story to-day" said he severely.
Peter looked ashamed and promised that he would hold his tongue right
between his teeth until Grandfather Frog was through. Grandfather Frog
cleared his throat and began again.
"Unc' Billy Possum's grandfather a thousand times removed was very
much as Unc' Billy is now, only he was a little more spry and knew
better than to stuff himself so full that he couldn't run. He was
always very sly, and he played a great many tricks on his neighbors,
and sometimes he got them into trouble. But when he did, he always
managed to keep out of their way until they had forgotten all about
their anger.
"One morning the very imp of mischief seemed to get into old Mr.
Possum's head. Yes, Sir, it certainly did seem that way. And when you
see Mischief trotting along the Lone Little Path, if you look sharp
enough, you'll see Trouble following at his heels like a shadow.
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