Hickory, Dickory, Dock by Penn
Weezy was so eager to help that she made it hard for herself and
for the family. She burned her fingers in stirring hot apple-sauce for
Bridget. She woke the baby in trying to curl the few hairs on
his little bald head. She
meddled with mamma's
knitting-work till she had
lost every needle. Papa
Haynes laughed at these
things; but when Weezy
learned to open his writing-desk
he looked grave.
"This'll never do," said
he to mamma. "The child
will be tearing my papers
So he locked the desk,
and hung the key above
the tall clock beside it.
"There, my young squirrel,
you won't reach that
in a hurry," he said to
himself, kissing his little
After he was gone mamma
stepped into the kitchen
to tell Bridget about dinner.
Weezy stayed in the
sitting-room to sing Sambo
to sleep. Every time she
rocked back in her small
chair she could see the
key shining over the clock. It looked very much out of place.
She wondered why her papa had put it there. She wanted to whistle
with it. Oh hum! if she was a little speck of a bird she would fly
against it and brush it down with her wings. Or if Sambo was only
an angel! She danced across the floor, and threw him up as high as
she could. Instead of knocking down the key she knocked poor
Sambo's stocking-yarn head against the wall, and he fell flat upon the
top of the desk.
"Lie still, Sambo," cried Weezy, mounting a chair. From the
chair she easily climbed to the broad shelf of the desk. There she
rested a moment, leaning her chin on the top of the desk and patting
Sambo. But she did not take him in her arms, for not far above him
hung the key. She had set her little heart on getting it.
What do you think the little sprite did next? All by herself she
scrambled to the very top of that big desk. Standing on tiptoe, she
tried to reach over the clock! Even then she was not quite tall
enough to grasp the key with her chubby little fingers; but by perching
upon Sambo she got it at last.
By the time mamma came back Weezy had opened the desk, and
cut one of papa's deeds into paper dolls.
Papa was vexed enough, at noon, when he saw them.
"The loss of that deed will give me a great deal of trouble," said
he to mamma. "How did Weezy come by the key of my desk?"
"'Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock!'"
answered mamma, laughing.
"Why, why, is it possible!" said papa, turning pale. "I'm thankful
she didn't break her neck,—our little mouse of a Weezy."