When she got back to the parlor, she heard some one coughing in a fat voice; and there sat Mr. Jackson himself. He was sitting all over a small rocking chair, twiddling his thumbs and smiling, with his feet on the fender. He lived in a drain below the hedge, in a very dirty wet ditch. "How do you do, Mr. Jackson? Deary me, you have got very wet!" "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tittlemouse! I'll sit awhile and dry myself," said Mr. Jackson. He sat and smiled, and the water dripped off his coat tails. Mrs. Tittlemouse went round with a mop. He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner? First she offered him cherry- stones. "Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tittlemouse! No teeth, no teeth, no teeth!" said Mr. Jackson. He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide; he certainly had not a tooth in his head. Then she offered him thistle- down seed--"Tiddly, widdly, widdly! Pouff, pouff, puff." said Mr. Jackson. He blew the thistle- down all over the room. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tittlemouse! Now what I really--REALLY should like-- would be a little dish of honey!" "I am afraid I have not got any, Mr. Jackson!" said Mrs. Tittlemouse. "Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs. Tittlemouse!" said the smiling Mr. Jackson, "I can SMELL it; that is why I came to call." Mr. Jackson rose ponderously from the table, and began to look into the cupboards. Mrs. Tittlemouse followed him with a dishcloth, to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlor floor. When he had convinced himself that there was no honey in the cupboards, he began to walk down the passage. "Indeed, indeed, you will stick fast, Mr. Jackson!" "Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs. Tittlemouse!" First he squeezed into the pantry. "Tiddly, widdly, widdly? No honey? No honey, Mrs. Tittlemouse?" There were three creepy-crawly people hiding in the plate rack. Two of them got away; but the littlest one he caught. Then he squeezed into the larder. Miss Butterfly was tasting the sugar; but she flew away out of the window. "Tiddly, widdly, widdly, Mrs. Tittlemouse; you seem to have plenty of visitors!" "And without any invitation!" said Mrs. Thomasina Tittlemouse. They went along the sandy passage--"Tiddly, widdly--" "Buzz! Wizz! Wizz!" He met Babbitty round a corner, and snapped her up, and put her down again. "I do not like bumble bees. They are all over bristles," said Mr. Jackson, wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve. "Get out, you nasty old toad!" shrieked Babbitty Bumble. "I shall go distracted!" scolded Mrs. Tittlemouse. She shut herself up in the nut cellar while Mr. Jackson pulled out the bees-nest. He seemed to have no objection to stings. When Mrs. Tittlemouse ventured to come out--everybody had gone away. But the untidiness was something dreadful--"Never did I see such a mess--smears of honey; and moss, and thistledown--and marks of big and little dirty feet-- all over my nice clean house!"