Now let me see where we left off in the last story. Sometimes I get all mixed up, and perhaps I'd never get things right if I hadn't made a book out of these stories, so that I can look back and see whether it was Uncle John Hare or the Big Brown Bear, or the Yellow Dog Tramp, or Aunt Columbia who had to stop doing something because I didn't have any more room.
Well, here we are. The Yellow Dog Tramp had just posted his photograph to his dear old mother way up in New Hampshire, and after he had thanked the postoffice lady, who was an old maid duck, he jumped into the sleigh and said:
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