The Tale of Ginger and Pickles

Dedicated
With very kind regards to old Mr. John Taylor,
who “thinks he might pass as a Dormouse;”
(three years in bed and never a grumble!)

Three kittens stare in through a paned window. On the inside are boxes and jars of sweets, and a set of scales.
Three mice gather together in front of some glass jars. Another mouse is standing on its own on top of the furthest jar.
A doll peers in through the paned window of a shop named “Ginger & Pickles” while another stands to one side with her handbag.

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, hairpins and mutton chops.

Inside the shop, a cat in a green dress and white pinafore and a dog in a brown jacket stand side by side behind the counter. Standing on a box in front of the counter and talking to the shop owners is a fat rat in a long green coat. A frog in a red jacket is sitting to his left, and four rabbits queue up to the right.

Ginger and Pickles were the people who kept the shop. Ginger was a yellow tomcat, and Pickles was a terrier.

The rabbits were always a little bit afraid of Pickles.

Ginger stares over the counter at the three mice leaving with their shopping.

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.

Two mice stand outside the door, while the one inside points at three large boxes, labelled “Cream Crackers,” “Water Biscuits,” and “Oatmeal Wafers.”

(Tabitha Twitchit kept the only other shop in the village. She did not give credit.)

Mrs. Tiggy-winkle the hedgehog stands in front of the counter and puts her shopping into her bag. Pickles notes down in his ledger what she’s bought.

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.

A set of scales stand next to an upturned box with “Till” written inside it and a book with “Ledger” written on the spine.

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.

Peter Rabbit walks through the door of Ginger & Pickles carrying a basket. To the left of the door is a big sack of nuts, from which two red squirrels are helping themselves. In front of the window, Jemima Puddle-duck and a chicken in a black hat and coat are talking. Many ducklings and chicks are running around at their feet.

But the sales were enormous, ten times as large as Tabitha Twitchit’s.

Ginger and Pickles sit next to each other in the shop and eat, lit by a candle.

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 candlelight after the shop was closed.

Ginger and Pickles look through the open door of their shop at a policeman walking past.

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.”

Two young girls in blue dresses each hold one arm of a policeman doll, and look down a lane at Pickles and the farmhouse beyond. The youngest girl is holding a teddy bear in her other hand.

“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.

One rat, Samuel Whiskers, stands on a box and angrily points, while another rat, Anna Maria, stands behind him.

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.”

Ginger sits at a table covered in a red tablecloth and writes on some paper, while Pickles watches on. In front of the table is a box with a pile of papers on top of it. Looking through the window are the girls with the policeman doll and the teddy bear.

“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.

The policeman leans against the counter and writes in his notebook.

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 notebook!

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.

The policeman holds his notebook and sucks on his pencil thoughtfully, while leaning against a wooden barrel. Behind the desk next to him are just visible a pair of white paws, black ears, and a white-tipped black tail.

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.

Ginger and Pickles stare out of the doorway past a hedge and iron fence.

“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, £3 19 11¾.”

Ginger reads the letter with a paw to his mouth, while Pickles stands next to him looking nervous.

“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.

Pickles stands in the shop doorway while Ginger closes the window shutters.
Ginger, dressed in a long coat, leaves a trap at the entrance to a warren. On the ground behind him are a pile of traps and snares. Three bunnies are visible on the other side of the rise.

Ginger is living in the warren. I do not know what occupation he pursues; he looks stout and comfortable.

Pickles, dressed in a tan jacket and holding a rifle, carefully makes his way along a stone wall. Past the end, several bunnies can be seen in a field and at the bottom of a tree.

Pickles is at present a gamekeeper.

All the village residents gather in front of the closed-up shop and chatter to each other while holding their shopping baskets.

The closing of the shop caused great inconvenience. Tabitha Twitchit immediately raised the price of everything a halfpenny; and she continued to refuse to give credit.

Of course there are the tradesmen’s carts⁠—the butcher, the fish-man 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!

A horse stands hitched to a covered cart with large wheels and “T. Baker” written on the side. Around it stand the Puddle-ducks, Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit and the three kittens, and Duchess the dog.

After a time Mr. John Dormouse and his daughter began to sell peppermints and candles.

A dormouse in a pink dress and white pinafore stands in a doorway underneath a sign that reads “J. Dormouse.” The house is roofed with oak leaves, and has clover growing in front and up the walls. Mr. John Dormouse watches out of the window, with his reading glasses on his forehead, while five other dormice carry a long white candle down the path.

But they did not keep “self-fitting sixes”; and it takes five mice to carry one seven inch candle.

Seven mice stand around a candle in a candlestick, which has drooped over so much that it is in danger of going out.

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.

The mice show the bent candle ends to Miss Dormouse, who has her hands on her hips.

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.

The mice have nominated one of them to complain to Mr. John Dormouse, who is tucked up in his four-poster bed with his glasses on.
Peter Rabbit, Jemima Puddle-duck, Mrs. Tiggy-winkle, Squirrel Nutkin and other animals all gather around a board leant up against a stone wall that has “Sale” written on it.

So everybody was pleased when Sally Henny Penny sent out a printed poster to say that she was going to reopen the shop⁠—“Henny’s Opening Sale! Grand cooperative Jumble! Penny’s penny prices! Come buy, come try, come buy!”

Sally Henny Penny stands behind the counter of her somewhat cluttered show. The walls are lined with wooden drawers and cupboards, and the shop is full of barrels and biscuit tins. Samuel Whiskers is pulling a blue package from Sally Henny Penny’s claw, while Peter and Benjamin Bunny and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle wait in the queue.

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.

Peter and Benjamin rummage through a barrel, the mice inspect some biscuits, Squirrel Nutkin opens one of the drawers, Jeremy Fisher walks around holding a parcel, and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle looks at a plate of eggs.

And she has laid in a remarkable assortment of bargains.

There is something to please everybody.

The mice are playing with the set of scales. Two stand on each plate, while the fifth is checking the balance. In front of the scales lie two gold coins.