BEDELIA was an extremely handsome bear, as Teddy Bears go, but for some time she had been plunged in inexpressible gloom because she possessed no tail. In vain her family expostulated with her, pointing out the fact that a bear with a tail would indeed be a freak and a monstrosity. Bedelia persisted in her notion, unreasonable as it was, and very nearly succeeded in driving Peter Pan to the verge of insanity. For although she led him a merry dance as a rule, he was extremely fond of her, and being of a chivalrous nature, made all sorts of excuses for her queer notions. Therefore he had very nearly arrived at his wits’ end when Bedelia suddenly ceased her lamentations and became quite cheerful—a change which, had Peter Pan only read her aright, would have appeared ominous. However, the poor fellow was so delighted at seeing his wife once more like her former self that he suspected nothing, not even when Bedelia began to absent herself at intervals from the family circle.

Truth to tell, Bedelia had a great deal more sense than most humans and realized after a little that scolding and fretting would never attain the end in view. She wanted a tail, and a tail she meant to have, and immediately began to cast around in her fertile mind as to the means that she should use to accomplish her end. She was far too cute to ask advice from those who had so discouraged her, but waited with trembling anxiety for the inevitable something which is sure to turn up sooner or later. It is a long lane, indeed, that has no turning, but the further one progresses, the nearer it is to the end; and Bedelia helped along the somewhat tedious waiting by a series of experiments that would have filled the breast of the gloomiest with hysterical mirth.

The beautiful, feathery appendage of Rough House had at first attracted her attention as he held it aloft and waved it plume-like in the air. But somehow Rough House had been very rude and had nipped her smartly when she laid hold and began a series of heroic tugs. And she had retreated in disorder with a rip in her coat, made by the dog’s gleaming teeth. Afterward she reflected that the tail was far too large and would not have matched her own fur anyway. This thought brought consolation and she proceeded to turn her attention and her energies in other directions. But try as she might, she could find nothing in the line of a tail that became her. She tried them all from every animal in the nursery, and nurse, finding them one by one lying on the floor, had shaken her head as she attached them successively to their original owners. She had her own ideas on the subject and they chiefly included rats, or perhaps little Rags who was getting his second teeth and might incline toward chewing things up. Sally alone suspected Bedelia, but was unable to catch her at her evil-doing, as she carried on her marauding chiefly in the silent night.

Having weighed in the balance and found wanting all the ready-made tails she could find, she looked about for something out of which to manufacture the right thing. Nothing, however, presented itself, and Bedelia realized that she could scarcely have formed so important an article with her own clumsy paws, even if it had. So for the time her occupation seemed gone, and she began to mope again, filled with chagrin that all her efforts should thus be foiled.

Meantime the summer waned and crisp nights began to suggest fall weather. One bright afternoon Bedelia had been sitting curled up on the broad window-seat on which she and her family kept house, pouting as usual and longing for something in the shape of mischief with which to occupy her rapacious paws. Sally and nurse were busy making doll clothes, as several occupants of the Walking House were still without suitable outfits. Suddenly nurse exclaimed,

“I believe it is soon going to be time for furs. Do you mind, darlin’, the nice set your aunt, Miss Edith, gave me Christmas, with all thim little tails on the muff?”

Tails! Bedelia’s ears were pricked up in a moment. Tails, and fur tails, too! Well she remembered the day in early spring when all the furs of the household had been aired and beaten and hung out in the sun before being laid away in boxes, liberally sprinkled with camphor and finally the covers all pasted up with strips of paper. They had been put away in the big store-room at the top of the house, and Bedelia knew exactly where they were. But she knew, also, that the store-room was always kept locked and she did not feel very sure where the key was kept.

She determined, however, to lose no time in looking for the bunch, and although it took nearly a week of investigation, they were found at last, and Bedelia lugged them off and hid them in a place whereof she knew, and which already contained a motley array of articles which at one time or other her fancy had prompted her to filch.

Several more days elapsed before a suitable opportunity to visit the store-room occurred. But at last Bedelia found herself standing in front of it with the bunch of keys in her eager paws. Behind the locked door lay the darling wish of her heart, a tail, and in a moment she had, as if by magic, selected the right key and swung open the heavy door.

Now a new difficulty confronted her, one of which she had not even dreamed. There were at least a dozen boxes standing on the shelves, all neatly labelled, of course. But Bedelia could not read, and no good fairy appeared to tell her which box contained nurse’s furs and the particular tail. So she stood gloomily gazing into the closet and at last concluded that much as she hated to take the trouble, there was but one thing to do and that was to open every box until she discovered the right one. This she at once set at work to do, tearing and ripping with a pair of scissors that she had brought along, emptying out furs and camphor in a promiscuous heap, dumping the contents of one box on top of another until the erstwhile orderly store-room presented the appearance of a rummage sale.

Now, had Sally been conducting the investigation, she would have known that the sets of furs were kept in the smaller boxes, while fur robes and so on were pinned in big bundles. But Bedelia, of course, never stopped to think of that so it fell out that nearly everything else in the closet was ripped open and flung out on the floor before she came across the box in which the coveted furs reposed. They were very respectable furs of a shade of brown that seemed to Bedelia just the proper one to harmonize with her own skin. And there were tails in plenty, more tails than Bedelia’s wildest dreams had ever conjured. She felt that she could wallow in tails now if she chose, and it did not take her long to get possession of what she wanted. She nipped off half a dozen, taking them from the neckpiece to which they were attached by little, pointed heads, each one with its ferocious mouth wide open displaying a number of tiny, white teeth.

Gathering up her treasures, she hurried downstairs, having taken care to lock the door and replace the key where it had originally hung. Then holding fast to the bunch of stolen fur, she hurriedly sought a quiet corner in the attic, whither she often fled when for any reason she wanted to be by herself.

A big, old mirror in a tarnished frame stood on the floor and after something of a struggle, for the thing was heavy, Bedelia arranged it so that she could see herself to full advantage.

Everybody knows that Teddy Bears have great facilities for looking over their shoulders. In fact, when built as a Teddy Bear should be, they can turn their heads all the way around. Consequently Bedelia found no difficulty in getting a full view of herself in the rear as she stood with her back to the glass, the tail in one paw and a couple of pins in the other. She had decided to leave the little head as it made an admirable finish for the tail, and really gave a very jaunty appearance to the whole. So she concluded after having clapped the whole into place and fastened it firmly with two large shawl pins. So delighted was she with the result that she stood before the mirror for a long time, craning her neck and twisting her head around while she admired her new ornament. To be sure, the head was in a place where no head ought to be, but it grinned jubilantly while the tail flopped joyfully as its owner walked. Finally, like Narcissus, satiated with the view of her own loveliness, she concluded to descend to the lower regions and show off the latest addition to her charms.

Down the stairs she trotted, trying to get used to the rather queer sensation of the tail flapping against her hind legs. Luckily she met nobody till she reached the nursery. Here her courage suddenly deserted her and she made a wild break for the window-seat, in the corner of which she at once threw herself and was making believe to be fast asleep when a most unforeseen event occurred. The head, which we have already recorded as being in a place where no head should be, objected to the full weight of Bedelia’s plump body upon it, and proceeded to nip her so vigorously that she sprang up, shrieking.

Peter Pan, who had at first thought that to let her alone was perhaps the better policy, now flew to the rescue, but when he discovered the cause of the trouble, he rolled on the floor in convulsions of laughter. The head kept on nipping for pure viciousness, and poor Bedelia, half crazed with pain and mortification, raised a dreadful wail that brought all the members of her family to the rescue. Quite willing to be relieved of the source of her discomfort, she melted completely under her husband’s affectionate caresses, and finally acknowledged that Teddy Bears really had no pressing need of caudal appendages.