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The Tale Of Ginger & Pickles
By Helen Beatrix Potter
ONCE upon a time there was a
village shop. The name over
the window was "Ginger and
Pickles."
It was a little small shop just the
right size for Dolls--Lucinda and
Jane Doll-cook always bought their
groceries at Ginger and Pickles.
The counter inside was a
convenient height for rabbits. Ginger
and Pickles sold red spotty pocket-
handkerchiefs at a penny three
farthings.
They also sold sugar, and snuff
and galoshes.
In fact, although it was such a
small shop it sold nearly everything
--except a few things that you
want in a hurry--like bootlaces,
hair-pins and mutton chops.
Ginger and Pickles were the
people who kept the shop. Ginger
was a yellow tom-cat, and Pickles
was a terrier.
The rabbits were always a little
bit afraid of Pickles.
The shop was also patronized by
mice--only the mice were rather
afraid of Ginger.
Ginger usually requested Pickles
to serve them, because he said it
made his mouth water.
"I cannot bear," said he, "to see
them going out at the door carrying
their little parcels."
"I have the same feeling about
rats," replied Pickles, "but it
would never do to eat our own
customers; they would leave us and
go to Tabitha Twitchit's."
"On the contrary, they would go
nowhere," replied Ginger gloomily.
(Tabitha Twitchit kept the only
other shop in the village. She did
not give credit.)
Ginger and Pickles gave unlimited
credit.
Now the meaning of "credit" is
this--when a customer buys a bar
of soap, instead of the customer
pulling out a purse and paying for
it--she says she will pay another
time.
And Pickles makes a low bow and
says, "With pleasure, madam,"
and it is written down in a book.
The customers come again and
again, and buy quantities, in spite
of being afraid of Ginger and
Pickles.
But there is no money in what
is called the "till."
The customers came in crowds
every day and bought quantities,
especially the toffee customers.
But there was always no money;
they never paid for as much as a
pennyworth of peppermints.
But the sales were enormous, ten
times as large as Tabitha Twitchit's.
As there was always no money,
Ginger and Pickles were obliged to
eat their own goods.
Pickles ate biscuits and Ginger
ate a dried haddock.
They ate them by candle-light
after the shop was closed.
When it came to Jan. 1st there
was still no money, and Pickles
was unable to buy a dog licence.
"It is very unpleasant, I am
afraid of the police," said Pickles.
"It is your own fault for being
a terrier; I do not require a licence,
and neither does Kep, the Collie
dog."
"It is very uncomfortable, I am
afraid I shall be summoned. I
have tried in vain to get a licence
upon credit at the Post Office;"
said Pickles. "The place is full of
policemen. I met one as I was
coming home."
"Let us send in the bill again to
Samuel Whiskers, Ginger, he owes
22/9 for bacon."
"I do not believe that he intends
to pay at all," replied Ginger.
"And I feel sure that Anna
Maria pockets things-- Where
are all the cream crackers?"
"You have eaten them yourself,"
replied Ginger.
Ginger and Pickles retired into
the back parlour.
They did accounts. They added
up sums and sums, and sums.
"Samuel Whiskers has run up
a bill as long as his tail; he has
had an ounce and three-quarters of
snuff since October."
"What is seven pounds of butter
at 1/3, and a stick of sealing wax
and four matches?"
"Send in all the bills again to
everybody 'with compts'" replied
Ginger.
After a time they heard a noise
in the shop, as if something had
been pushed in at the door. They
came out of the back parlour. There
was an envelope lying on the counter,
and a policeman writing in a
note-book!
Pickles nearly had a fit, he barked
and he barked and made little
rushes.
"Bite him, Pickles! bite him!"
spluttered Ginger behind a sugar-
barrel, "he's only a German doll!"
The policeman went on writing
in his notebook; twice he put his
pencil in his mouth, and once he
dipped it in the treacle.
Pickles barked till he was hoarse.
But still the policeman took no
notice. He had bead eyes, and his
helmet was sewed on with stitches.
At length on his last little rush
--Pickles found that the shop was
empty. The policeman had disappeared.
But the envelope remained.
"Do you think that he has gone
to fetch a real live policeman? I
am afraid it is a summons," said
Pickles.
"No," replied Ginger, who had
opened the envelope, "it is the
rates and taxes, L 3 19 11 3/4 ."
"This is the last straw," said
Pickles, "let us close the shop."
They put up the shutters, and
left. But they have not removed
from the neighbourhood. In fact
some people wish they had gone
further.
Ginger is living in the warren. I
do not know what occupation he
pursues; he looks stout and
comfortable.
Pickles is at present a gamekeeper.
The closing of the shop caused
great inconvenience. Tabitha
Twitchit immediately raised the
price of everything a half-penny;
and she continued to refuse to give
credit.
Of course there are the trades-
men's carts--the butcher, the fishman
and Timothy Baker.
But a person cannot live on "seed
wigs" and sponge-cake and butter-
buns--not even when the sponge-
cake is as good as Timothy's!
After a time Mr. John Dormouse
and his daughter began to sell
peppermints and candles.
But they did not keep "self-fitting
sixes"; and it takes five mice to
carry one seven inch candle.
Besides--the candles which they
sell behave very strangely in warm
weather.
And Miss Dormouse refused to
take back the ends when they were
brought back to her with complaints.
And when Mr. John Dormouse
was complained to, he stayed in
bed, and would say nothing but
"very snug;" which is not the way
to carry on a retail business.
So everybody was pleased when
Sally Henny Penny sent out a
printed poster to say that she was
going to re-open the shop--
"Henny's Opening Sale! Grand
co-operative Jumble! Penny's
penny prices! Come buy, come
try, come buy!"
The poster really was most 'ticing.
There was a rush upon the opening
day. The shop was crammed
with customers, and there were
crowds of mice upon the biscuit
canisters.
Sally Henny Penny gets rather
flustered when she tries to count
out change, and she insists on being
paid cash; but she is quite harmless.
And she has laid in a remarkable
assortment of bargains.
There is something to please
everybody.
THE END
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