THAT settles it, then," said a tiny, squeaky little voice from the corner of the sleeping porch where Buddy was cosily tucked in bed, "that settles it! He likes night better than day; so, just as likely as not, he will stay awake all night to enjoy himself, or anyway so long that we shall get no supper at all! And the whole family so hungry, too!"

"Now be patient, little sister," said another little voice. "That is not a grown-up person, there in the bed,—that's a boy, and boys never stay awake very long. It won't hurt us to wait a bit for our supper. My!" he went on in a lower tone, "I think he has heard us, but never mind, sister, we both know the way out, and there isn't a bit of danger."

Buddy had heard the voices and, always interested in his Little Neighbors, he sat up in bed and peered into the corner of the porch in the direction of the voices—of course he could not see a thing, but he knew that someone must be there.

So he called very softly, "Who are you, Little Neighbors?"

"I'm just Buddy Jim and I won't harm you—you must have heard of me—I live here in this house."

"Oh," cried both little voices in a relieved tone, "You don't know what a load you have taken off our minds! Why of course we have heard of you. Mrs. Harvest Mouse says that you really saved the lives of her whole family the day Red-Headed Woodpecker came to collect the rent. But you see that was different. She was in her own house and we are in yours, and for some reason we have never been able to find out, people dislike to have us come in their houses."

"They set traps for us," said Little Sister Mouse, "and kill us—and we are no good to them—our fur is so soft that it is useless—and then the cats! Why! we are in constant fear of their dreadful claws!"

"Yes indeed," said Brother Mouse, "we never came in this house until Old Dog Sandy came here to live and made Peter Prowler live under the barn."

"In that case," said Buddy, "I can not imagine why you go into people's houses. I would certainly not go where I was not welcome."

"Why, dear me," said Brother Mouse, "we're House Mice—we always live in houses. We don't know why, we just know it's so! and we're no trouble to any one; we take only the tiniest crumbs of food, when Mary the cook leaves us anything at all—she doesn't often—and the children are so hungry and Mother hasn't a bit of anything in the nest to give them." "And they're hungry," chimed in little Sister House Mouse.

"What would you like for their supper, and yours too?" asked Buddy, "because I think I can get you something, and if you will promise not to go into the kitchen again I will promise to leave your supper wherever you say every evening this summer. Will you promise?"

"Will we?" choroused the little Mice, "we certainly will! Honest 'n true 'n black and blue."

"Well, then," said Buddy, "just you wait right where you are—" and he slipped out of bed and ran to the kitchen.

He was back in almost no time at all, with some bread and some bits of cheese and a cookie, which he broke into bits and placed on the porch floor, and then, just to show the little neighbors that he meant to play fair, he hopped back into bed again.

It just did his kind little heart good to hear the delighted squeals of the Little Neighbors when they found the food. He smiled to himself as he heard them scamper away with as much as they could carry. It was only a moment until they were back again, and this time they stayed to eat their own supper.

"Mum, mum," said Sister Mouse with her mouth full of food, "Mary is a wonderful cook!"

"Where do you live, Little Neighbors," asked Buddy, "so I shall know where to leave your food every day."

"Up in the woodshed loft," said Brother Mouse. "We like it there, because there is always moss and shavings to make warm nests of; and sometimes Bob the gardener leaves an old coat there for us to chew up and line our nests with. But we must go home now and let you go to sleep, because you must be very sleepy."

"No indeed," said Buddy, "I'm really not sleepy at all, and I've loved to have you visit me!"

"We are so grateful to you," said Brother House Mouse, "and we both wish we could do something for you. Would you care to hear us sing, so long as you're not so very sleepy?"

Buddy laughed. "That would be lovely," he said. "Just like little Tommy Tucker, who sang for his supper. But can you sing? Let's hear you," he invited, eagerly.

There was a soft little scrambling sound, and then, in the moonlight, Buddy saw on his bed rail two grey Little Neighbors. It was Brother Mouse, holding Sister Mouse by the hand. They were bowing and looking for all the world like the two little concert singers that they were.

They made no excuses, they did not even say they were out of practice, nor that they couldn't think what to sing, but began in the sweetest of small voices to sing what sounded to Buddy like a little lullaby.

Buddy lay very still. He was delighted with the song, but he did not dare to applaud, because he was afraid that his Little Neighbors would not understand. Not being much used to singing to mortals, they might be frightened at the noise.

But what do you think? Before he even knew that he was sleepy, and while he was enjoying the concert, he went fast asleep.

And the next thing he knew, Old Bob the gardener was outside, wanting to know if he meant to stay in bed all day.

"Bob," said Buddy, "have you ever heard a House Mouse sing?" "No, Buddy," said Old Bob the gardener, "I never have, but I have talked with folks who say they have heard them."

"Well, Bob," insisted the little boy, "do you believe they can sing?"

"Why, yes, Buddy," said Old Bob the gardener, "I believe everything until I find out for certain that it isn't so. It's much the happiest way, don't you think?"

"Your ways are all happy ways, Bob," said Buddy. "You're the best chum ever!"

[Listen]