The Tailor of Gloucester (2 page)

Now all day long while the tailor was out at work, Simpkin kept house by himself; and he also was fond of the mice, though he gave them no
satin for coats!

“Miaw?” said the cat when the tailor opened the door, “miaw?”

The tailor replied — “Simpkin, we shall make our fortune, but I am worn to a
ravelling. Take this groat (which is our last fourpence) and Simpkin, take a china pipkin; buy a penn’orth
of bread, a penn’orth of milk and a penn’orth of sausages. And oh, Simpkin, with the last penny of our
fourpence buy me one penn’orth of cherry-coloured silk. But do not lose the last penny of the fourpence,
Simpkin, or I am undone and worn to a thread-paper, for I have
no more
twist
.”

Then Simpkin again said “Miaw?” and took the groat and the pipkin, and went out into
the dark.

The tailor was very tired and beginning to be ill. He sat down by the hearth and
talked to himself about that wonderful coat.

“I shall make my fortune — to be cut bias — the Mayor of Gloucester is to be married
on Christmas Day in the morning, and he hath ordered a coat and an embroidered waistcoat — to be lined with
yellow taffeta — and the taffeta sufficeth; there is no more left over in snippets than will serve to make
tippets for mice —”

Then the tailor started; for suddenly, interrupting him, from the dresser at the other side of the kitchen came a number of little
noises —

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

“Now what can that be?” said the Tailor of Gloucester, jumping up from his chair. The
dresser was covered with crockery and pipkins, willow pattern plates, and tea-cups and mugs.

The tailor crossed the kitchen, and stood quite still beside the dresser, listening,
and peering through his spectacles. Again from under a tea-cup, came those funny little noises —

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

“This is very peculiar,” said the Tailor of Gloucester; and he lifted up the tea-cup
which was upside down.

Out stepped a little live lady mouse, and made a curtsey to the tailor! Then she
hopped away down off the dresser, and under the wainscot.

The tailor sat down again by the fire, warming his poor cold hands, and mumbling to
himself —

“The waistcoat is cut out from peach-coloured satin — tambour stitch and rose-buds in
beautiful floss silk! Was I wise to entrust my last fourpence to Simpkin? One-and-twenty button-holes of
cherry-coloured twist!”

But all at once, from the dresser, there came other little noises —

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

“This is passing extraordinary!” said the Tailor of Gloucester, and turned
over another tea-cup, which was upside down.

Out stepped a little gentleman mouse, and made a bow to the tailor!

And then from all over the dresser came a chorus of little tappings, all sounding
together, and answering one another, like watch-beetles in an old worm-eaten window-shutter —

Tip tap, tip tap, tip tap tip!

And out from under tea-cups and from under bowls and basins, stepped other and more
little mice, who hopped away down off the dresser and under the wainscot.

The tailor sat down, close over the fire, lamenting — “One-and-twenty button-holes of
cherry-coloured silk!

To be finished by noon of Saturday; and this is Tuesday
evening. Was it right to let loose those mice, undoubtedly the property of Simpkin? Alack, I am undone, for
I have no more twist!”

The little mice came out again, and listened to the tailor; they took notice of the
pattern of that wonderful coat. They whispered to one another about the taffeta lining, and about little
mouse tippets.

And then all at once they all ran away together down the passage behind the wainscot,
squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house to house; and not one mouse was left in the
tailor’s kitchen when Simpkin came back with the pipkin of milk!

Simpkin opened the door and bounced in, with an angry “G-r-r-miaw!” like a cat that is
vexed; for he hated the snow, and there was snow in his ears, and snow in his collar at the back of his
neck. He put down the loaf and the sausages upon the dresser, and sniffed.

“Simpkin,” said the tailor, “where is my twist?”

But Simpkin set down the pipkin of milk upon the dresser, and looked suspiciously at
the tea-cups. He wanted his supper of little fat mouse!

“Simpkin,” said the tailor, “where is my
twist
?”

But Simpkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea-pot, and spit and growled at the
tailor; and if Simpkin had been able to talk, he would have asked — “Where is my
mouse
?”

“Alack, I am undone!” said the Tailor of Gloucester, and went sadly to bed.

All that night long Simpkin hunted and searched through the kitchen, peeping into
cupboards and under the wainscot, and into the tea-pot where he had hidden that twist; but still he found
never a mouse!

Whenever the tailor muttered and talked in his sleep, Simpkin said
“Miaw-ger-r-w-s-s-ch!” and made strange horrid noises, as cats do at night.

For the poor old tailor was very ill with a fever, tossing and turning in his
four-post bed; and still in his dreams he mumbled — “No more twist! no more twist!”

All that day he was ill, and the next day, and the next; and what should become of the
cherry-coloured coat? In the tailor’s shop in Westgate Street the embroidered silk and satin lay cut out
upon the table — one-and-twenty button-holes — and who should come to sew them, when the window was barred,
and the door was fast locked?

But that does not hinder the little brown mice; they run in and out without any keys
through all the old houses in Gloucester!