The Story of Freginald Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t seem to realize that their children are growing up. So she knitted all the vests for Mr. Boomschmidt the same size as she had when he was fifteen. And Mr. Boomschmidt couldn’t possibly get into any of them.
    One day he spoke to Freginald about it.
    â€œMy goodness, Freginald,” he said, “what am I going to do about this? Here am I, want to make my mother happy; there’s my mother, wants to make me happy. I send her money she won’t use on herself; she sends me vests I can’t wear. Best intentions on both sides. Come, you’re a smart bear. Think of something.”
    â€œCouldn’t you tell her you’ve got enough vests?” asked Freginald.
    â€œGracious, no,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Wouldn’t do at all. She might start knitting me suits.”
    â€œWell, couldn’t you send the next one back and tell her it was too tight under the arms? Then she’d have to unravel it and knit it over again. And then you could send it back again and say it was too loose. You could keep on doing that.”
    â€œSeems sort of mean to have her do all that work,” said Mr. Boomschmidt.
    â€œShe’s going to do it anyway, sir,” said Freginald. “And she couldn’t spend the money for more yarn for a new one until she got it right.”
    â€œWhy, my goodness! Why, upon my word!” exclaimed Mr. Boomschmidt, pushing his hat back. “I believe you’ve got it. Yes, sir, I’ll go write her right away. Too tight under the arms, hey?” And he hurried off.
    But though everybody in the circus was happy, one thing bothered Freginald. Louise wouldn’t speak to him. She had been mad at him ever since he had made up the poem about her and then told her he didn’t mean what he had said in it. He didn’t like Louise especially, but he didn’t like to have her mad at him, so he tried to be nice to her. But the more he tried, the crosser she got.
    One day Freginald took his lunch and started out to explore an old grassy roadway that wound up into the hills back of the field where the circus was camped. It was a Sunday, very hot and still. Most of the other animals had wandered off to find cool places in which to take naps. And before he had gone half a mile, Freginald got so drowsy he could hardly hold his head up. So he lay down under a tree and dozed off.
    He was awakened by angry voices talking not very far away. He sat up and slapped his nose hard with his paw to get the sleepiness out of his head, and then he sneaked up toward the barn from which the voices came. One of them was Louise’s.
    â€œI tell you I never touched your nasty old hay,” she was saying. “And you let me out of here or I’ll tell Mr. Boomschmidt.”
    â€œKinda sassy, ain’t you?” said the other voice. It was a very small voice, but it sounded pretty vindictive. “Well, how you going to tell him, hey? How you going to tell him if I won’t let you out of the barn?”
    Freginald was close enough now to see what was going on. The barn door was open and in the middle of the doorway stood a very small mouse. Now, elephants aren’t afraid of tigers but they are afraid of mice. If you ask an elephant why, he will giggle and say that the mouse might run up his trunk and tickle him and make him sneeze. Of course no mouse would have the nerve to do any such thing, but the elephants aren’t taking any chances. Merely to think of it will make many elephants sneeze for half an hour.

    â€œCome, come; what’s going on here?” said Freginald, making his voice as deep as possible. And he walked up to the mouse.
    But the mouse stood his ground. “Don’t you try to bully me!” he squeaked shrilly. And then as Freginald’s paw darted out and pinned his tail to the ground, he struggled to get away, shouting angrily all the time. “You let me go, now! I wasn’t doing anything to your old