Gus and the Button Bow — Under the dusty lamps of the old music hall, a duck named Gus clicked across the stage in one flipper and one squeak. Read the full story →
Under the dusty lamps of the old music hall, a duck named Gus clicked across the stage in one flipper and one squeak. He wore a bow tie with a lumpy pearl button in the middle, and he tapped it twice before every dance. Tap-tap meant, “For Grandma Bea,” who had sewn the button on from her favorite concert coat.
Gus kicked, shuffled, and spun so fast the floorboards hummed like a sleepy kazoo. No audience clapped. No one peeked from the velvet seats. That made him sillier: he bowed to a broom, winked at a piano bench, and tossed a tiny cracker crumb behind the curtain for the mouse who always cleaned up after midnight.
Then the crumb rolled into a brass trumpet mute, and—poom!—the whole empty hall answered with a secret note. From the rafters came three sparrows, each carrying a scrap of silver ribbon, and the mouse marched out wearing one like a sash. They had been saving the ribbons for Gus’s bow because Grandma Bea’s button had started to wobble. Gus held still while they tied the shiny scraps around it, then danced one soft thank-you step nobody outside the hall would hear. Next time you spot his lumpy bow, see if it looks ready to tap-tap again.
