"Howdy, folks, howdy! I've brought some friends home to dinner." He beckoned to the children. "Come on and see Mrs. Meadows and Mr. Rabbit." Mrs. Meadows immediately dropped her knitting in her lap, and threw her hands up to her head, as if to arrange her hair. "Come in," said Mr. Thimblefinger to the children. "Yes, come on," exclaimed Mr. Rabbit in a voice that sounded as if he had a bad cold. "I'm in no fix to be seen," said Mrs. Meadows, "but I'm glad to see you, anyhow. Come right in. Take off your things and make yourself at home. How did you get here? I reckon that little trick there has been telling tales out of school." She pointed at Mr. Thimblefinger and laughed. "He brought us," said Sweetest Susan. "I'm sorry we came." "Now, don't say that," remarked Mrs. Meadows kindly. "What are you afraid of?" "Of him," replied Sweetest Susan, nodding her head toward Mr. Rabbit. "Is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. "Why, he's as harmless as a kitten." "Yes, yes!" said Mr. Rabbit complacently. "No harm in me--no harm in old people. Just give us a little room in the corner--a little place where we can sit and nod--and there's no harm in us. I'm just as glad you've come as I can be. I see you've brought the Tar Baby. She's grown some since I saw her last." Mr. Rabbit looked at Drusilla with considerable curiosity. "I hope she's not as sticky as she used to be." "Hey!" cried Buster John, laughing. "Mr. Rabbit thinks Drusilla is the Tar Baby!" Drusilla tossed her head scornfully. "Huh! I ain't no Tar Baby. I may be a nigger, an' I speck I is, but I ain't no Tar Baby. My mammy done tol' me 'bout de Tar Baby in de tale, an' she got it fum her gran'daddy. Ef I'm de Tar Baby, I'm older dan my mammy's gran'daddy." Mr. Rabbit took off his spectacles and wiped them on his coat-tail. "My eyes are getting very bad," he said, by way of apology. "But you certainly look very much like the Tar Baby. If you were both together in the dark, nobody could tell you apart. Well, well! I'm getting old." "You ain't no older dan you look," said Drusilla spitefully under her breath. "Hush!" whispered Sweetest Susan. "He'll eat us up." Mrs. Meadows laughed. "Don't worry, child. Mr. Rabbit loves his pipe and a joke, but he'll never hurt you. Never in the world." "But this isn't in the world," suggested Buster John. "Well, it's next door, as you may say," Mrs. Meadows replied. Just then Mr. Rabbit slowly raised himself from his chair and examined the seat closely. "I missed Mr. Thimblefinger," he said, "and I was afraid I had sat on him." "Oh, no!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger, coming out from under the steps; "I was just resting myself." "Mr. Thimblefinger will take care of himself, I'll be bound," exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. "He's little; but is a mountain strong because it is big?" "Why, that puts me in mind of the story--But never mind! I'm always thinking about old times." Mr. Rabbit sighed as he said this.