cannot be Jack Horner, because you have no pie with you,
and you're not Little Boy Blue, because I see you wear a red
necktie," went on the bunny uncle. "Do you belong to Mother Goose at
all?"

[Illustration]

"Yes," answered the boy. "I do. You must have heard about me. I am
Diller-a-Dollar, a ten o'clock scholar, why do you come so soon? I
used to come at ten o'clock, but now I'll come at noon. Don't you
know me?"

"Ha! Why, of course, I know you!" cried Uncle Wiggily, in his jolly
voice, as he put some lollypop oil on the doodle-oodleum of his
auto. "But, why are you crying?"

"Because I'm going to be late at school again," said the boy. "You
see of late I have been late a good many mornings, but this morning
I got up early, and was sure I would get there before noon."

"And so you will, if you hurry," Uncle Wiggily said, looking at his
watch, that was a cousin to the clock, up which, and down which, ran
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse. "It isn't anywhere near noon yet,"
went on the rabbit gentleman. "You can almost get to school on time
this morning."

"I suppose I could," said the boy, "and I got up early on purpose to
do that. But now I have lost my way, and I don't know where the
school is. Oh, dear! Boo hoo! I'll never get to school this week, I
fear."

"Oh, yes, you will!" said Uncle Wiggily, still more kindly. "I'll
tell you what to do. Hop up in the automobile here with me, and I'll
take you to the school. I know just where it is. Sammie and Susie
Littletail, my rabbit friends, and Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the
squirrels, as well as Nannie and Billie Wagtail, the goats, go
there. Hop in!"

So Diller-a-Dollar, the late scholar, hopped in the auto, and he and
Uncle Wiggily started off together.

"You'll not be late this morning," said the bunny uncle. "I'll get
you there just about nine o'clock."

Well, Uncle Wiggily meant to do it, and he might have, only for what
happened. First a hungry dog bit a piece out of one of the bologna
sausage tires on the auto wheels, and they had to go slower. Then a
hungry cat took another piece and they had to go still more slowly.

A little farther on the tinkerum-tankerum of the automobile, which
drinks gasolene, grew thirsty and Uncle Wiggily had to give it a
glass of lemonade. This took more time.

And finally when the machine went over a bump the cork came out of
the box of talcum powder and it flew in the face of Uncle Wiggily
and the late scholar an