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Tale of Grumpy Weasel

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<h3>XVIII POP! GOES THE WEASEL</h3> There were many things that did not please Grumpy Weasel—things that almost any one else would have liked. For instance, there was music. The Pleasant Valley Singing Society, to which most of the bird people belonged, did not number Grumpy Weasel among its admirers. He never cared to hear a bird sing—not even Jolly Robin's cousin the Hermit, who was one of the most beautiful singers in the woods. And as for Buddy Brown Thrasher, whom most people thought a brilliant performer, Grumpy Weasel always groaned whenever he heard him sing[Pg 79]ing in the topmost branches of a tree. A bird-song—according to Grumpy Weasel—was of use in only one way: it told you where the bird was. And that was a help, of course, if you were trying to catch him. Nor did the musical Frog family's nightly concerts have much charm for Grumpy, though he did admit that some of their songs were not so bad as others. "I can stand it now and then," he said, "to hear a good, glum croaking, provided there are plenty of discords." Naturally, knowing how he felt, Grumpy Weasel's neighbors never invited him to listen to their concerts. On the contrary they usually asked him please to go away, if he happened to come along. Certainly nobody could sing his best, with such a listener. As a rule Grumpy Weasel was glad to[Pg 80] go on about his business, though to be sure he hated to oblige anybody. But one day he stopped and scolded at the top of his voice when he came upon the Woodchuck brothers whistling in the pasture. Their whistles quavered a bit when they noticed who was present. And they moved a little nearer their front door, in order to dodge out of sight if need be. Although Grumpy Weasel might follow them, there was a back door they could rush out of. And since they knew their way about their underground halls better than he did they did not worry greatly. "We're sorry—" said the biggest brother, who was called Billy Woodchuck—"we're sorry you don't like our music. And we'd like to know what's the matter with it; for we always strive to please." "It's not so much the way you whistle,"[Pg 81] Grumpy snarled, "though your whistling is bad enough, it's so cheerful. What I find fault with especially is the tune. It's insulting to me. And you can't deny it." Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked at one another in a puzzled fashion. "Never again let me hear you whistling, 'Pop! Goes the Weasel,'" Grumpy warned them. That was the name of the Woodchuck brothers' favorite air, and the one they could whistle best. And any one could see that they were quite upset. "Why don't you like that tune?" Billy Woodchuck asked Grumpy Weasel politely. "It's that word 'pop,'" Grumpy said. "It reminds me of a pop-gun. And a pop-gun reminds me of a real gun. And that's something I don't want to think about." Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked[Pg 82] at one another again. But this time they smiled. "You've misunderstood," Billy Woodchuck told Grumpy Weasel. "This is a different kind of pop. It means that when you enter a hole you pop into it in a jiffy, without taking all day to do it." For a wonder Grumpy Weasel was almost pleased. "That's true!" he cried. "I couldn't be slow if I wanted to be!" And he actually asked the Woodchuck brothers to whistle "Pop! Goes the Weasel" once more. But Grumpy Weasel never thought of thanking them. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [Pg 83] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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