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Tale of Timothy Turtle, The

<h2>XIX</h2> <h3>CAREFUL MR. FROG</h3> Somebody had knocked. And with a wide smile upon his face Mr. Ferdinand Frog, the tailor, went to his door and peeped out. One look was enough. He shut the door again with great haste and barred it. And he held one hand over his heart, as if he had just received a terrible fright. "Let me in!" somebody called. The tailor knew that it was Timothy Turtle's voice, for he had seen that crusty old person standing upon his doorstep. "Go away!" Mr. Frog replied. "I'm not here." He was an odd chap—this Ferdinand Frog. One never could tell what he was going to do—or say. "Yes, you are!" Timothy Turtle insisted. "I saw you only a moment ago." The tailor then peered out of the window at his caller. "There you are now!" Timothy shouted, as he caught sight of Mr. Frog. "I say, let me in!" "I can't," Mr. Frog answered. "I'm sick a-bed." "Nonsense!" Timothy cried. "Well, I expect I'll be ill if you don't go away," the tailor answered. "I'm having a nervous chill this very moment." He was afraid of Timothy Turtle. And it was no wonder. For Timothy had tried, more than once to make a meal of the nimble Mr. Frog. "I haven't come here to hurt you," Timothy Turtle explained, trying to smile at the face in the window. "I want you to make me a new coat—a big one that will cover my back all over." To his great disappointment Mr. Frog shook his head with great force. "I'm not interested," he announced. "Do you mean"—Timothy Turtle faltered—"do you mean that you won't make a coat for me?" "Exactly!" "Why?" Timothy pressed him. "Too busy!" was Mr. Frog's answer. "Who is?" "You are!" said Mr. Frog. "Ever since I've known you, you've been trying to catch me and my friends." "Why—er—I was only joking," Timothy Turtle told him. "You mustn't mind my playful ways. Just make me a coat and I'll do something handsome for you." It was now the tailor's turn to ask questions. "What"—he inquired—"what will you do?" "I couldn't just say at this moment," Timothy replied. "Why not?" "Oh, I'd want to think a while," said Timothy Turtle. "Very well!" was the tailor's answer. "I've no objection, though it's something I never do myself." "I wish you'd come outside a moment, since you don't want me inside your shop," Timothy remarked. "I'd like to whisper to you." "I'm deaf," Mr. Frog informed him. "I couldn't hear a single word, even if you were to shout your head off." "You can hear what I'm saying now well enough," Timothy pointed out. "I read the lips," said Mr. Frog with a snicker. That speech made Timothy Turtle start. "Then if you can read my lips, no doubt you can read what's on my back," he said. "That's easy," the tailor observed. "Your shell's on your back, of course." Timothy Turtle glanced up with a look of scorn. "Don't be silly!" he snapped. "I mean, can you read what's carved on my shell?" "Certainly!" Mr. Frog replied. And he began to mutter, as if to himself, "J. G.—that means just grumpy, of course——" Timothy Turtle interrupted him quickly. "I don't care to hear any more," he screamed. And turning away, he waddled towards the water. "That Ferdinand Frog has no manners," he spluttered. "I only wish he wasn't quite so spry." And Mr. Turtle looked very fierce as he snapped his jaws together. <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>XX</h2> <h3>THE ALMANAC</h3> One rainy night Peter Mink stopped at Black Creek; and calling loudly to Timothy Turtle he asked for a place to sleep. "You remember," he said, when Timothy drew himself upon the bank, "you told me that you would do something handsome for me some time. And now that I'm wet and tired I hope you can offer me a snug, dry spot in which to spend the night." "What can you do to pay me?" asked Timothy Turtle. He never did anything for anybody without pay. "Can you saw wood?" Now, Peter Mink would rather stay out in the rain forever than saw a single stick of wood. So he said: "No, I can't!" just like that. "Well, it's about time you learned," said Timothy Turtle. Peter Mink was about to leave in disgust; and he was wondering what name he would call Timothy Turtle, when he was a little further away, when he noticed that Timothy had a thin book in his hand. "What's that?" Peter asked. "It's the Farmer's Almanac," said Timothy Turtle. "I've been looking through it; but my eyes are bad and I can't read." Now that was quite true; for Timothy's eyes were bad—and he had never learned to read. "I'll tell you what I'll do," Peter Mink announced. "If you'll give me a place to spend the night I'll read the Farmer's Almanac to you." "Come right in!" Timothy Turtle cried, leading the way to a cozy nook beneath a big rock which was not far from the water. And Peter Mink was very glad to creep inside that comfortable shelter. He took the Almanac from Timothy Turtle and they both sat down. Peter opened the book. "I see," he said, "that it says the weather was fair to-day, but look out for a heavy rain to-night!" Now, Timothy Turtle had not felt quite sure that Peter Mink knew how to read. But when he heard that he quickly changed his mind. "That's exactly what's happened!" he exclaimed. And he was greatly pleased. But the next moment he noticed that Peter Mink was holding the book upside down. Timothy could tell that because the picture of the man ploughing, on the cover, was upside down. "You can't read!" he cried angrily. "You don't even know how to hold a book. You've got it bottom side up!" But Peter Mink only smiled pleasantly at him. "You don't understand," he said. "That's the way I was taught to read. Then, if you want to read when standing on your head, you don't need to turn the book over.... It's the latest method," he explained. "Oh!" said Timothy Turtle. "That's different!" "Yes—quite different!" said Peter Mink. "What does the Almanac say about next week?" Timothy inquired. "Time to plant corn!" Peter told him. "That's so!" said Timothy Turtle. "Mr. Crow was telling me this very day that Farmer Green was ploughing his cornfield; but of course that doesn't interest me much.... What else does the book say?" Timothy continued. "Well, here's some general advice," Peter Mink remarked, as he looked at the Almanac again. "It says: 'If anybody comes to you and asks for a place to sleep, give him a bed—but first of all, give him a good supper.'" "I don't believe I want to hear any more to-night," said Timothy Turtle hastily. "It's late; so we'd better go to bed right away." Peter Mink was somewhat disappointed. He had hoped to get a fish or two to eat. But there was nothing he could say, though he did wish Timothy Turtle could take a hint. "In the morning you can read to me again," Timothy told him. So they went to bed. But in the morning the Almanac was nowhere to be found. Timothy Turtle hunted for it in every place he could think of—except Peter Mink's pocket. After Peter had gone, Timothy continued his search. And at last he found the Almanac beneath the heap of dry leaves which Peter Mink had used for a bed. "That's queer!" Timothy Turtle said. "I'm almost sure I looked there before Peter Mink went away.... My eyes must be growing worse." The more he thought of the matter, the gladder he was that he hadn't found the book before. For there was no knowing but that Peter Mink might have found some advice about giving a good breakfast to a guest who stayed over night. Then Timothy Turtle went into Black Creek and caught a fine fish, for he was hungry. And he enjoyed his meal mightily, because he had it all to himself. While he was eating he kept thinking what a disagreeable fellow Peter Mink was. No doubt he would have been surprised had he known that Peter Mink was thinking the same thing about him, at exactly the same moment. <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>XXI</h2> <h3>A QUEER WISH</h3> Fishing was one of Timothy Turtle's favorite sports. He was a skillful fisherman, too. And though it only happened once that he caught more than one fish at a time, on that occasion he captured seven. This was the way it happened: Johnnie Green had come to Black Creek to fish for pickerel. And Timothy Turtle was much annoyed when he found Johnnie fishing in the pool that he liked best of all. Timothy thought it was mean of Johnnie Green to catch his fish, in his creek. And Timothy's beady eyes glared as he watched Johnnie from a safe hiding-place under the bank. He saw that Johnnie Green was a good fisherman. Before he moved on he caught three big fish from that pool; and one of them—the biggest of the three—was the very fish on which Timothy Turtle had been expecting to dine that day. It was really no wonder that he was annoyed. And when Johnnie went further up the creek to try his luck elsewhere Timothy Turtle slipped into the water and followed him. The more fish he saw Johnnie Green catch, the angrier Timothy grew. And he went out of his way to tell a number of his neighbors what was happening. "Something ought to be done about it!" he complained. "Why don't you go down and speak to Farmer Green?" Peter Mink suggested. Peter liked fish, too. And he had often said that Johnnie had no right to take food away from him, when everybody knew that there was a plenty at the farmhouse. Timothy Turtle did not care for Peter's suggestion. "I've no time to waste talking to Farmer Green," he said. "It seems to me a letter would be better. Now, if somebody would write a letter, and get everybody to sign his name to it, and send it down to Farmer Green by a messenger, I would do my share to help. I would tell the messenger where to leave the letter so that Farmer Green would be sure to find it." Timothy then said that he must hurry back to the creek, for he wanted to see how many fish Johnnie Green took, so the number could be mentioned in the letter. But before he left Timothy told Peter Mink to go and find somebody to write the letter. "There's old Mr. Crow," Timothy said. "You might ask him. He could use one of his quills for a pen, you know." When Timothy Turtle reached the creek once more he found that while he was talking to Peter Mink, Johnnie Green had moved oh again. So Timothy started to follow him. But what should he see, lying on the bank right before him, but a string of seven pickerel! Johnnie Green had left them there, while he went still further up the creek to catch more. Timothy Turtle suddenly changed his mind about sending a letter to Farmer Green. He wished that Johnnie would come there to fish every day. "He's a kind boy, after all!" said Timothy Turtle to himself. "I never dreamed that he was catching these fish for me. But here they are, waiting for me! For Johnnie must have known that I would find them." Timothy Turtle didn't say anything more. Of course he was only talking to himself, anyhow. And he seized the string of pickerel and waddled into the bushes, where he ate every one of those seven fish. When Peter Mink met Timothy the next day he said he had not yet found anybody who would write the letter to Farmer Green. "Mr. Crow told me that if it was anybody but you he might be willing to pull out one of his quills for a pen," Peter explained. "But he said that he hoped Johnnie Green would come here every day to fish, until there are no fish left for you." Timothy Turtle sniffed. "You go back," he directed Peter Mink, "and tell Mr. Crow that I hope Johnnie Green will come here twice a day until he has caught every fish in Black Creek." Peter Mink thought that that was a queer thing for Timothy to wish. Neither he nor old Mr. Crow could understand it. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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