"Good-morning to you, Grand-daddy!" said Uncle Squeaky cheerily the next morning. "How are all the folk at Wild Rose Cottage?"

"Nicely, Hezekiah, nicely," grinned Dr. Whiskers. "Dot and Silvy are helping Granny make our rooms cosy, and I am going to visit my first patient."

"I want Limpy-toes to go over to Polly-Wog Bridge and help get my boat afloat upon the Lake. I mean to catch some fish and have Belindy fry 'em for dinner."

"Limpy-toes has gone with Nimble-toes to fetch a load of wood. They will soon be at home. It is only a short walk to Sir Spider's house; I shall not need Limpy-toes this morning."

'Will you walk into my parlor, Dr. Whiskers?'

"Is Sir Spider ill?" asked Uncle Squeaky.

"Lady Spider has been cleaning her parlor. She is overtired and ailing and wishes to see me."

"Hm!" said Uncle Squeaky thoughtfully, "I heard Ruth Giant sing a song one day:

'Will you walk into my parlor,
Said the Spider to the fly.'

If I remember aright, that fly came to grief in Lady Spider's parlor. Better watch out, Dr. Grand-daddy."

"Don't worry, Hezekiah, and good-day to you, for I must be on my way. I will keep out of Lady Spider's parlor."

Dr. Whiskers rapped upon Sir Spider's door. Lady Spider opened it.

"Will you walk into my parlor, Dr. Whiskers?" she said sweetly, as she held aside the cobweb draperies of her spick-and-span parlor.

Dr. Whiskers wanted to run away. Those were the very words that Uncle Squeaky had recited!

"Ah, well," he decided quickly, "as I am not a fly and have my stout cane in my paw, I'll be a brave doctor mouse and try to cure Lady Spider. Maybe she is not so sly as some folk think."

So he entered her pretty parlor, admiring the beautiful silken draperies.

"I am glad that you have come to our village, Dr. Whiskers," began Lady Spider, sitting beside him on the moss green divan. "We've had a hard time. Sir Spider lost one of his legs a while ago; but would you believe it--a new one has begun to grow! He feels better and is building a bridge across our brook. I'm just worn out with the Spring cleaning and spinning, and the care of my big family. My eyes ache all the time, Dr. Whiskers."

"Ah, yes! Spring fever, I've no doubt. I have been told that you are very busy,--a skillful weaver and splendid housekeeper. But my dear Lady Spider, health is better than silk draperies. I fear you strain your many eyes searching for dust and dirt. When my one pair of eyes get tired, I have a headache; with your many eyes, you must suffer much pain. But cheer up. I will give you some medicine and you will soon feel like a new Spider. Please fetch a glass of water."

Dr. Whiskers took a bottle of dried checker-berries from his bag. He dropped ten of them into the water.

"These red pills are a splendid tonic. Take a sip of the medicine several times each day and your many eyes will stop aching."

"I will follow your directions carefully, Dr. Whiskers," smiled Lady Spider. "Is there really to be a school where my little Webbie, Spinnie, Tony, and Patty can be taught the civilized ways of your learned family?"

"We have just arrived at the Lake and are hardly settled. There will soon be a school. My grand-daughter, Dot Squeaky, will be the teacher. A sweet young lady mouse she is, if I am her grand-daddy and maybe ought not to boast of her smartness. I must bid you good-day, Lady Spider. I will come in next week and see if you are better."

"A very pleasant call," thought Dr. Whiskers, as he trotted along the country road. "Lady Spider does not seem to be a harmful creature. Hello! Here I am at Squire Cricket's gateway. I must cure his sore throat."

Squire Cricket came to the door. He wore a red flannel around his neck and his voice was hoarse as he greeted Dr. Whiskers.

"Nimble-toes said you needed some medicine," began Dr. Whiskers. "I see you are wearing the red flannel that Granny sent. She believes that red flannel will cure almost anything."

"It's no good," croaked Squire Cricket. "I've worn it ever since Nimble-toes fetched it, and I'm still as hoarse as Grandpa Bull Frog."

"Ah well, if Mistress Cricket will fetch a glass of water, I will fix a gargle that will help you."

He sprinkled some salt into the water which Mistress Cricket brought.

"Now, Squire Cricket, if you will use this mixture, a spoonful every hour, and rub a little cure-all salve under your red flannel at night, we'll soon have your voice as clear as a lark's, and the soreness all gone. How many kiddies shall you send to my grand-daughter's summer school, Mistress Cricket?"

"Our two children, Sammie and Fidelia, must go. I hope Miss Squeaky will teach music. Our children love to fiddle. We all enjoyed Mr. Squeaky's band last summer. It was good news when we heard that you were coming back to the Lake."

Just then, Sammie Cricket hopped excitedly in.

"Oh, Dr. Whiskers, old Daddy Longlegs has had an accident! He wants you to come at once," cried Sammie.

Dr. Whiskers snatched up his bag and rushed across the fields to Daddy Longleg's home.

"I've broken one of my legs, Dr. Whiskers," cried Daddy Longlegs. "Can you mend it for me, or must I limp on a cane the rest of my days?"

"Mend it? Of course I can," laughed Dr. Whiskers. "Let me catch my breath. I hustled some and am puffing considerable. Now then for some splints and a stout string. If you were younger, I'd rub in some cure-all salve and wait for another leg to grow, as Sir Spider's has done. We'll take no chances, however; I'll mend your broken leg."

Dr. Whiskers worked deftly away, setting the broken limb and wrapping it neatly in splints and a white bandage. Now and then he whistled a bit of Mammy's Lullaby, for he was happy in his work.

"It feels 'most as good as new; just a bit stiff," declared Daddy Longlegs. "I don't know how we have managed all these years without a doctor. Welcome to our village, Dr. Whiskers!"

"A beautiful village it is," replied Grand-daddy. "I like to spend my summers near Pond Lily Lake. Now I must say good-day. Don't use that leg for a few days and it will mend all right. No crutches for old Daddy Longlegs this time."

That evening the whole family gathered at Gray Rock Bungalow. Dr. Whiskers had many stories to tell of his first day's practice in the Lake village.

Dr. Whiskers worked deftly away, setting the broken limb

Uncle Squeaky brought out his fiddle and all the little mice stood around his arm-chair and sang their merry songs.

"Come, Dr. Whiskers," called Granny at last, "we must start home. You have had a busy day and Dot wants Limpy-toes to build her school-room tomorrow. Good-night, folkses. Yes, Limpy-toes, I suppose I can ride in your automobile. But do be careful and not break your old Granny's neck. We must all help Grand-daddy to keep his promise to fetch us all safely to our dear attic home before snow flies."