The Tales of Tiptoes Lightly by Reg Down Page A

Tom Nutcracker to his
dad when they had finally given up.
    “Mice are tricky things,” said Farmer John. “They can
get into the tiniest of places.”
    “But we checked everything,” said June Berry. “We even
took the sheets off the bed and emptied the closet.”
    “It is a bit strange,” admitted Farmer John, “but
what’s really strange are the huge footprints in the garden outside your
window. They’re bigger than dinner plates and pressed deep into the ground by
something really heavy. I’ve never seen footprints that big.”
    Pins and Needles were sitting on a lampshade,
listening and laughing. They knew what had happened—but they weren’t telling.

Ompliant carries Jeremy Mouse Home

    Jeremy Mouse swayed back and forth on Ompliant’s back.
The gnomes looked out for branches while he hung on tight. He was very high off
the ground, but it was fun to go home this way.
    Tiptoes landed next to him. “Hello, Jeremy Mouse,” she
said. “I see Ompliant got you out of the house.”
    “He did,” said Jeremy, “and now I’m riding on his
back. It’s so high I can see our Oak Tree already.”
    “Thank you, Ompliant,” he said when they reached the
Oak Tree.
    “You’re welcome,” said Ompliant. “I’m going home now.
Who wants a ride to the Pine Tree?”
    “We do!” cried the gnomes. They’d never had so much
elephant riding in one day.
    Mrs. Chips, the Woodpecker’s wife, looked out of her
new nest. “What’s all this racket,” she scolded. “Can’t you see I’m sitting on
my eggs and need peace and quiet?” and she pulled her head back inside.

    Tiptoes and Jeremy Mouse laughed. They waved to the
gnomes swaying back and forth on Ompliant’s back. It was getting late. The sun
had already gone down and stars were twinkling like fireflies in the twilight.
    “Have you ever seen fireflies?” asked Jeremy Mouse. “I
hear they are like magic.”
    “They are like magic,” replied Tiptoes. “I saw them a
long, long time ago, before they left the west.”
    “But why did they leave?” asked Jeremy Mouse.
    “Let’s go inside,” said Tiptoes. “You can get into bed
and I’ll tell you their story.”

The Firefly’s Story
    Jeremy Mouse curled up in his bed of fresh dry grass.
Tiptoes sat next to him and stroked his fur.
    “Once upon a time,” she said, “there lived a bug. He
was not a big bug, he was a little bug, and no one paid any attention to him.
He lived in the grass, and his favorite color was brown.
    One night he looked up at the moon and fell in love
with her.

    ‘She’s so beautiful,’ he thought. ‘She shines with such
a silvery-blue light—and every night she’s different. Sometimes she is round
and full, and other times she is slim and slender and shaped like a blade of
bent grass. I want to visit her and tell her how lovely she is.’
    He flew to the top of the tallest tree and waited for
the moon to sail into the sky. But when she rose that evening she was still
very far away. So the next night he flew to the top of the tallest mountain,
but when the moon climbed into the heavens she was still far, far away.

    The bug was sad. He knew now that he would never get
close to her, but he still spent every night looking at her face. He loved her
so deeply that her silvery rays flowed through his eyes and gathered in his
heart.
    ‘Oh, she will never see the fire glowing in my heart
if it’s hidden away,’ he said, and sent it to the tip of his tail. He flew up
into the cool night air, and every time his heart beat strongly his tail glowed
brightly.
    ‘Look!’ everybody cried. ‘What a wonderful bug! He
twinkles and glows in the light of the moon!’ And they called him ‘Firefly’
because his heart was on fire with his love for the moon.
    “And that is how fireflies come into the world,” said
Tiptoes, finishing her story.
    “But why don’t they live in the west?” asked Jeremy
Mouse.
    “Well,” said Tiptoes, “the little bug saw that the
moon always rose