From What Tommy Did by Emily Huntington Miller:

If it had not rained that day, it never would have happened; but before Tommy had half finished his breakfast, Uncle Jim got up and walked to the front window, and remarked that it was “raining cats and dogs.”

Tommy looked up, with his mouth full of bread and butter, to see if Uncle Jim was really in earnest; but as he looked perfectly sober, he immediately scrambled down from his chair and rushed to the window, expecting to see a shower of black and white kittens, with a smart sprinkling of curly dogs. What he really saw was a very muddy river, rushing along through the gutter; two men,with tin pails and short pipes, tramping down the street; and a miserable-looking dog, with a bone in his mouth, picking his way through the mud. He looked as if he might have rained down, but Tommy knew he didn’t, because he knew where he lived up the alley, and he had often seen him sneaking around the back door after bits which Tommy threw away when he took his lunch out-doors. Just at that instant Uncle Jim came in from the back hall, and said, in a very dreadful voice,

“Now, then, Tommy Trotter, where are my rubbers?”

When anything was lost in that house they always asked Tommy about it. It was a habit they had of supposing that Tommy had had it, especially if it was something he never ought to touch.

Tommy forgot all about the cats and dogs, and looked at Uncle Jim, and said, quickly, “I d’n know.”

That was a habit Tommy had, and he always said, “I d’n know,” before he stopped to think. But he did know very well, and so he said,

“O yes, Uncle Jim. They’re over to Billy’s house, in the big troft where the horse drinks. Me and Billy sailed ’em for boats, all full wid oats, and they sinked down to the floor of the water.”

“Why, Tommy Bancroft,” said his mamma, looking greatly troubled, “what shall I do with you?”

Uncle Jim looked at him very soberly, and said,

“Well, young man, here I am two miles from my office, and no rubbers. I should like to know what you mean to do about it? You ought to buy me some more. I shall catch my death of cold, and then how’ll you feel, sir?”

Tommy’s little face brightened in a minute.

“O, I’ll buy you some more,” said he; and he trotted away to get his bank, which had a loose floor, so that whatever you put in at the top could be easily shaken out at the bottom, an arrangement Tommy found very satisfactory. The first thing that came out was a quarter, new and crisp, but Tommy’s heart never faltered.

“There,” said he, “you can buy some more rubbers, and I won’t nev4er sail ’em in the troft.”

“Very well,” said Uncle Jim, putting the money in his pocket, and going into the hall.

“Uncle Jim,” called Tommy, “if there’s any shange left, you buy me some peanuts, will you?”

Uncle Jim nodded, and said, “I shouldn’t wonder,” as he strode out into the rain.

Tommy’s mamma gave the baby her breakfast, talked awhile with Bridget about supper, dusted the parlor, watered the ivy in the bay window, and then she put the baby on the floor in the dining room, and gave her some clothes pins and a tin pan to play with. Tommy had his Noah’s ark, but he had to keep it on the table, because the baby put the camels and elephants into her mouth whenever she got a chance and once she sucked all the paint off from Shem, Ham and Japheth, and made herself quite sick. Ellen was ironing in the kitchen, and Mrs. Bancroft said,

“Now, Ellen, it is such a rainy day, nobody will be in, and I am going up to look over the winter clothing and put it away. The children will do very well in here, but you must keep your door open, and look in once in a while.”

“Yes’m,” said Ellen; “Tommy’s gettin’ right handy to mind the baby when he tries.”

“O, I’ll ‘tend to her,” said Tommy, who was trying to stand Mrs. Noah on the ridge pole to the ark. “Ellen needn’t mind about us at all.”

So Tommy’s mamma went away up stairs, and Ellen hurried with her ironing, looking out once in a while through the rain to see if the grocer’s young man was not coming for his orders. When he did come, she shut the dining room door, because the baby was always frightened at the grocer’s young man, though Ellen herself did not seem at all afraid of him.

It was just at this moment that Tommy spied a bottle of mucilage on the clock shelf over the table, and it struck him instantly what a fine thing it would be to fasten on the elephant’s trunk and Noah’s head again. It was quite easy to reach it and pull out the cork, but there did not happen to be any brush, so Tommy was forced to use one of his fingers, which answered very well, only he had to wipe it frequently upon his apron. Noah’s head refused to stick, and so did the elephant’s trunk, though he tried it on nearly all the animals.

Then he concluded he would paste up handbills, as he had seen men do on the street. So he got baby’s little soft, white hair brush, and poured out some of the mucilage into the seat of Uncle Jim’s table chair. Then he dipped the brush, and stuck pieces of the morning paper on the walls, on the doors, on the stove, and last of all, he happened to remember how he had seen a funny pan walking through the streets with handbills on his hat and his back, so he pasted some papers on the baby’s back, and on the top of her poor, little, bald head. Baby had no hair to speak of, but she did not at all fancy this way of dressing it, so she set up a loud scream of anger, and at that very moment came a ring at the door bell.

“Dear, dear!” said Tommy’s mamma, peeping out at her chamber window, “if there isn’t Miss Dilly Dean come to spend the day.”

Mamma hurried down to the door to receive Miss Dilly, who stood in the hall, with the inky water running off from her umbrella, and making a little, black river on the oilcloth.

“You didn’t look for me to-day, I’m sure,” said Miss Dilly, “but I thought I should be sure of a good, long visit all to myself, because it rained so.”

Ellen went back to try to hush the baby, and Tommy stood in the door with the hair brush in his hand, while mamma said,

“Well, come right into the dining room, Miss Dilly, and dry your feet; we keep a fire there on account of the baby.”

And Tommy kept on staring at Miss Dilly’s funny little curls, until mamma pushed Uncle Jim’s chair to the grate, and said,

“Sit right down here, Miss Dilly;” and Miss Dilly sat down.

Mamma began to pick up things about the room, and by and by she found the empty mucilage bottle, and she said,

“Why, Tommy Bancroft, where’s my mucilage?”

Then Tommy put his finger in his mouth, and looked at Miss Dilly harder than ever, and said, “She’s sittin’ on it.”

Miss Dilly jumped up as spry as a kitten, and the chair jumped, too; and Miss Dilly’s best alpaca dress was just about ruined.

I don’t know just what Tommy’s mamma said to him, but whatever it was, she put him to bed afterward to think about it.

And that was what happened on Tuesday.