THE MILLER OF THE DEE
Reading edition
WHAT a lovely old mill!" thought Puss, Jr. "Is that your 'hush-a-by baby upon the tree-top'?" he asked the miller on entering the old mill.
"No, sir-ee!" answered the jolly miller, with a jolly laugh. "Haven't you ever heard the song about me? This is the way it goes:
"There was a jolly miller once Lived on the River Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night, No lark so blithe as he. "And this the burden of his song Forever used to be: 'I care for nobody! No, not I! And nobody cares for me!'"
"Doesn't anybody care for you?" asked Puss. "It seems strange, for you are so jolly."
"AREN'T WE GREAT FRIENDS?" ASKED THE MILLER
"Well," answered the miller, "you see, it's this way: I am here all alone all day; there's no room in the mill except for me and the sacks of corn. It all belongs to me, even the old willow-tree. I let a little woman who lives quite near here hang the cradle on the limb every morning. As she goes to work in the village, she puts her baby in the cradle and the wind rocks it to sleep until she comes back at noon. Then she goes away again and comes back at evening and takes the cradle home with her. The baby is very good; that is, it has been so far; but you can never tell how long a baby will be good."
"That's true of every one," said Puss, with much gravity.
"If it ever starts crying—that is, a long crying spell, she'll have to get another willow-tree or another baby. I can't be bothered with a crying baby so close at hand."
"But you haven't answered my question yet," said Puss.
"Oh," replied the miller. "You mean because I care for nobody and nobody cares for me."
"Yes; I don't quite understand it."
"Come inside and I'll explain it to you," said the miller.
Puss walked inside and sat down on a bag of flour. "All I do is to grind corn for people," continued the miller, sitting down on a dusty stool. "They bring their corn in to be ground and then they leave. When they come back the corn is ready for them,—that is, the flour. They take it away and I'm left all alone. So what do I do? Well, I make friends with a little mouse and a big rat that live in the old mill." As he spoke the little mouse ran out of her hole and sat down by the miller. "We are great friends, aren't we, mousie?" he said.
The little mouse squeaked, "Yes, Mr. Miller."
Then the big rat came out and sat down by the miller, only on the other side.
"Aren't we great friends?" asked the miller.
The rat said, "You are the best friend I have." At which the miller smiled and Puss grinned.
"Animals make good friends," said the miller.
"Yes, indeed," replied Puss, "but rats and mice are so destructive. They eat your corn."
"Not much," said the miller; "only a little bit."
"We only eat what we need," said the mouse and the rat in chorus.