aid the babboon.

"Maybe you will," thought Uncle Wiggily, laughing to himself. "And
maybe you won't."

The bad babboon monkey chap unwound the string from the stump, but no
sooner had he started to pull in the kite than there came a very strong
puff of wind.

Up, up and up into the air blew the kite and, as the string was tangled
around the babboon's paws, it took him up with it, and though he cried
out: "Stop! Stop! Stop!" the kite could not stop, nor the babboon
either.

[Illustration: Up, up and up into the air blew the kite and, as the
string was tangled around the babboon's paws, it took him up with it.]

"Well, I guess you won't bother me any more," said Uncle Wiggily, as he
looked at the babboon, who was only a speck in the sky now; a very
little speck, being carried away by the kite.

And the babboon did not come back to bother Uncle Wiggily, at least for
a long time. Tommie felt badly when he found his kite blown away. But
he was glad Uncle Wiggily had been saved, and he and the bunny uncle
soon made a new kite, better than the first. They had lots of fun
flying it.

And in the story after this, if the chocolate pudding doesn't hide in
the coal bin, where the cook can't find it to put the whipped cream on,
I'll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and Johnnie's marbles.

STORY XXI

UNCLE WIGGILY AND JOHNNIE'S MARBLES

It was a nice, warm spring day, when the ground in the woods where the
animal boys and girls lived was soft, for all the frost had melted out
of it; and, though it was a little too early to go barefoot, it was not
too early to play marbles.

Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels; Sammie Littletail, the
rabbit, and Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck, were having a game under the
trees, not far from the hollow stump bungalow which was the house of
Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny gentleman.

"First shot agates!" cried Johnnie.

"No, I'm going to shoot first!" chattered his brother Billie.

"Huh! I hollered it before either of you," quacked Jimmie, the duck
boy, and he tossed some red, white and blue striped marbles on the
ground in the ring. The marbles were just the color of Uncle Wiggily's
rheumatism crutch.

The animal boys began playing, but they made so much noise, crying
"Fen!" and "Ebbs!" and "Knuckle down!" that Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the
muskrat lady housekeeper, went to the bungalow door and called:

"Boys! Boys! Will you please be a little quiet? Uncle Wi