A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories Read online

  THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE

  for THE REAL LITTLE LUCIE OF NEWLANDS

  ONCE upon a time there was a little girl called Lucie, who lived at afarm called Little-town. She was a good little girl--only she was alwayslosing her pocket-handkerchiefs!

  One day little Lucie came into the farm-yard crying--oh, she did cry so!"I've lost my pocket-handkin! Three handkins and a pinny! Have YOU seenthem, Tabby Kitten?"

  THE Kitten went on washing her white paws; so Lucie asked a speckledhen--

  "Sally Henny-penny, has YOU found three pocket-handkins?"

  But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking--

  "I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!"

  AND then Lucie asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig.

  Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucie with his bright black eye, and heflew over a stile and away.

  Lucie climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behindLittle-town--a hill that goes up--up--into the clouds as though it hadno top!

  And a great way up the hillside she thought she saw some white thingsspread upon the grass.

  LUCIE scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her;she ran along a steep path-way--up and up--until Little-town was rightaway down below--she could have dropped a pebble down the chimney!

  PRESENTLY she came to a spring, bubbling out from the hill-side.

  Some one had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water--but thewater was already running over, for the can was no bigger than anegg-cup! And where the sand upon the path was wet--there were foot-marksof a VERY small person.

  Lucie ran on, and on.

  THE path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, andthere were clothes-props cut from bracken stems, with lines of plaitedrushes, and a heap of tiny clothes pins--but no pocket-handkerchiefs!

  But there was something else--a door! straight into the hill; and insideit some one was singing--

  "Lily-white and clean, oh! With little frills between, oh! Smooth and hot--red rusty spot Never here be seen, oh!"

  LUCIE, knocked--once--twice, and interrupted the song. A littlefrightened voice called out "Who's that?"

  Lucie opened the door: and what do you think there was inside thehill?--a nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams--justlike any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucie'shead nearly touched it; and the pots and pans were small, and so waseverything there.

  THERE was a nice hot singey smell; and at the table, with an iron in herhand stood a very stout short person staring anxiously at Lucie.

  Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron over herstriped petticoat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle,and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle; and underneath her cap--where Luciehad yellow curls--that little person had PRICKLES!

  "WHO are you?" said Lucie. "Have you seen my pocket-handkins?"

  The little person made a bob-curtsey--"Oh, yes, if you please'm; my nameis Mrs. Tiggy-winkle; oh, yes if you please'm, I'm an excellentclear-starcher!" And she took something out of a clothes-basket, andspread it on the ironing-blanket.

  "WHAT'S that thing?" said Lucie--"that's not my pocket-handkin?"

  "Oh no, if you please'm; that's a little scarlet waist-coat belonging toCock Robin!"

  And she ironed it and folded it, and put it on one side.

  THEN she took something else off a clothes-horse--"That isn't my pinny?"said Lucie.

  "Oh no, if you please'm; that's a damask table-cloth belonging to JennyWren; look how it's stained with currant wine! It's very bad to wash!"said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

  MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE'S nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, and her eyeswent twinkle, twinkle; and she fetched another hot iron from the fire.

  "THERE'S one of my pocket-handkins!" cried Lucie--"and there's mypinny!"

  Mrs. Tiggy-winkle ironed it, and goffered it, and shook out the frills.

  "Oh that IS lovely!" said Lucie.

  "AND what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?"

  "Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny-penny--look howshe's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard! She'll very soongo barefoot!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

  "WHY, there's another handkersniff--but it isn't mine; it's red?"

  "Oh no, if you please'm; that one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit; and it DIDso smell of onions! I've had to wash it separately, I can't get out thesmell."

  "There's another one of mine," said Lucie.

  "WHAT are those funny little white things?"

  "That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten; I only have to ironthem; she washes them herself."

  "There's my last pocket-handkin!" said Lucie.

  "AND what are you dipping into the basin of starch?"

  "They're little dicky shirt-fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse--mostterrible particular!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. "Now I've finished myironing; I'm going to air some clothes."

  "WHAT are these dear soft fluffy things?" said Lucie.

  "Oh those are wooly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelghyl."

  "Will their jackets take off?" asked Lucy.

  "Oh yes, if you please'm; look at the sheep-mark on the shoulder. Andhere's one marked for Gatesgarth, and three that come from Little-town.They're ALWAYS marked at washing!" said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

  AND she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes--small brown coats ofmice; and one velvety black mole-skin waist-coat; and a red tail-coatwith no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin; and a very much shrunk bluejacket belonging to Peter Rabbit; and a petticoat, not marked, that hadgone lost in the washing--and at last the basket was empty!

  THEN Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea--a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie.They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another.Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, andvery very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and hercap, there were HAIR-PINS sticking wrong end out; so that Lucie didn'tlike to sit too near her.

  WHEN they had finished tea, they tied up the clothes in bundles; andLucie's pocket-handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny, andfastened with a silver safety-pin.

  And then they made up the fire with turf, and came out and locked thedoor, and hid the key under the door-sill.

  THEN away down the hill trotted Lucie and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle with thebundles of clothes!

  All the way down the path little animals came out of the fern to meetthem; the very first that they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny!

  AND she gave them their nice clean clothes; and all the little animalsand birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.

  SO that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile, there wasnothing left to carry except Lucie's one little bundle.

  LUCIE scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand; and then sheturned to say "Good-night," and to thank the washer-woman--But what aVERY odd thing! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle had not waited either for thanks orfor the washing bill!

  She was running running running up the hill--and where was her whitefrilled cap? and her shawl? and her gown--and her petticoat?

  AND how small she had grown--and how brown--and covered with PRICKLES!

  Why! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle was nothing but a HEDGEHOG.

  * * * *

  (Now some people say that little Lucie had been asleep upon thestile--but then how could she have found three clean pocket-handkins anda pinny, pinned with a silver safety-pin?

  And besides--_I_ have seen that door into the back of the hill calledCat Bells--and besides _I_ am very well acquainted with dear Mrs.Tiggy-winkle!)

  THE TALE OF GINGER & PICKLES

  ONCE upon a time there was a village shop. The name over the window was"Ginger and Pickles."

  It was a little small shop just the right size for Dolls--Lucinda andJane Doll-cook always bought their groceries at Ginger and Pickles.

  The counter inside was a con
venient height for rabbits. Ginger andPickles sold red spotty pocket-handkerchiefs at a penny three farthings.

  They also sold sugar, and snuff and galoshes.

  In fact, although it was such a small shop it sold nearly everything--except a few things that you want in a hurry--like bootlaces,hair-pins and mutton chops.

  Ginger and Pickles were the people who kept the shop. Ginger was ayellow tom-cat, and Pickles was a terrier.

  The rabbits were always a little bit afraid of Pickles.

  The shop was also patronized by mice--only the mice were rather afraidof Ginger.

  Ginger usually requested Pickles to serve them, because he said it madehis mouth water.

  "I cannot bear," said he, "to see them going out at the door carryingtheir little parcels."

  "I have the same feeling about rats," replied Pickles, "but it wouldnever do to eat our own customers; they would leave us and go to TabithaTwitchit's."

  "On the contrary, they would go nowhere," replied Ginger gloomily.

  (Tabitha Twitchit kept the only other shop in the village. She did notgive credit.)

  Ginger and Pickles gave unlimited credit.

  Now the meaning of "credit" is this--when a customer buys a bar of soap,instead of the customer pulling out a purse and paying for it--she saysshe will pay another time.

  And Pickles makes a low bow and says, "With pleasure, madam," and it iswritten down in a book.

  The customers come again and again, and buy quantities, in spite ofbeing afraid of Ginger and Pickles.

  But there is no money in what is called the "till."

  The customers came in crowds every day and bought quantities, especiallythe toffee customers. But there was always no money; they never paid foras much as a pennyworth of peppermints.

  But the sales were enormous, ten times as large as Tabitha Twitchit's.

  As there was always no money, Ginger and Pickles were obliged to eattheir own goods.

  Pickles ate biscuits and Ginger ate a dried haddock.

  They ate them by candle-light after the shop was closed.

  When it came to Jan. 1st there was still no money, and Pickles wasunable to buy a dog licence.

  "It is very unpleasant, I am afraid of the police," said Pickles.

  "It is your own fault for being a terrier; _I_ do not require a licence,and neither does Kep, the Collie dog."

  "It is very uncomfortable, I am afraid I shall be summoned. I have triedin vain to get a licence upon credit at the Post Office;" said Pickles."The place is full of policemen. I met one as I was coming home."

  "Let us send in the bill again to Samuel Whiskers, Ginger, he owes 22/9for bacon."

  "I do not believe that he intends to pay at all," replied Ginger.

  "And I feel sure that Anna Maria pockets things--Where are all the creamcrackers?" "You have eaten them yourself," replied Ginger.

  Ginger and Pickles retired into the back parlour.

  They did accounts. They added up sums and sums, and sums.

  "Samuel Whiskers has run up a bill as long as his tail; he has had anounce and three-quarters of snuff since October."

  "What is seven pounds of butter at 1/3, and a stick of sealing wax andfour matches?"

  "Send in all the bills again to everybody 'with compts'" replied Ginger.

  After a time they heard a noise in the shop, as if something had beenpushed in at the door. They came out of the back parlour. There was anenvelope lying on the counter, and a policeman writing in a note-book!

  Pickles nearly had a fit, he barked and he barked and made littlerushes.

  "Bite him, Pickles! bite him!" spluttered Ginger behind a sugar-barrel,"he's only a German doll!"

  The policeman went on writing in his notebook; twice he put his pencilin his mouth, and once he dipped it in the treacle.

  Pickles barked till he was hoarse. But still the policeman took nonotice. He had bead eyes, and his helmet was sewed on with stitches.

  At length on his last little rush--Pickles found that the shop wasempty. The policeman had disappeared.

  But the envelope remained.

  "Do you think that he has gone to fetch a real live policeman? I amafraid it is a summons," said Pickles.

  "No," replied Ginger, who had opened the envelope, "it is the rates andtaxes, L 3 19 11 3/4."

  "This is the last straw," said Pickles, "let us close the shop."

  They put up the shutters, and left. But they have not removed from theneighbourhood. In fact some people wish they had gone further.

  Ginger is living in the warren. I do not know what occupation hepursues; he looks stout and comfortable.

  Pickles is at present a gamekeeper.

  The closing of the shop caused great inconvenience. Tabitha Twitchitimmediately raised the price of everything a half-penny; and shecontinued to refuse to give credit.

  Of course there are the trades-men's carts--the butcher, the fishman andTimothy Baker.

  But a person cannot live on "seed wigs" and sponge-cake andbutter-buns--not even when the sponge-cake is as good as Timothy's!

  After a time Mr. John Dormouse and his daughter began to sellpeppermints and candles.

  But they did not keep "self-fitting sixes"; and it takes five mice tocarry one seven inch candle.

  Besides--the candles which they sell behave very strangely in warmweather.

  And Miss Dormouse refused to take back the ends when they were broughtback to her with complaints.

  And when Mr. John Dormouse was complained to, he stayed in bed, andwould say nothing but "very snug;" which is not the way to carry on aretail business.

  So everybody was pleased when Sally Henny Penny sent out a printedposter to say that she was going to re-open the shop--"Henny's OpeningSale! Grand co-operative Jumble! Penny's penny prices! Come buy, cometry, come buy!"

  The poster really was most 'ticing.

  There was a rush upon the opening day. The shop was crammed withcustomers, and there were crowds of mice upon the biscuit canisters.

  Sally Henny Penny gets rather flustered when she tries to count outchange, and she insists on being paid cash; but she is quite harmless.

  And she has laid in a remarkable assortment of bargains.

  There is something to please everybody.

  THE END