THE SQUIRREL.

 

HE Squirrel belongs to Harold. Some cruel boys were pelting the squirrels.
in the coppice near our house one day, when Papa and Harold walked that.
way. Harold, very angry, ran on before, and bade them leave the poor little
things alone. They laughed at him, and one rude, tall boy came up and struck
my brother; but, though Harold was much smaller, he was not afraid, and he
would have fought for the squirrels, I am sure, only Papa came up, and when
the boys saw him, they ran away, for fear he should send them to prison for
trespassing. But on the ground lay a poor little squirrel, whose leg they had
broken in their cruel sport. Papa told Harold to pick it up, and carry it home,
that he might try to cure it. And he bound up its leg, and Harold fed it every
day, and took great care of it.

It was cured at last; but it had grown very fond of Harold, and as the
winter was coming on, we kept it in the house, and did not set it free at once,
Next spring, however, Harold carried it back to the wood, for he knew it would
be happier there than in the house; but it always runs home to our house at
night in bad weather. It is quite tame, and comes to Harold when he calls it to
give it nuts.

I am afraid, by-and-bye when it grows older, it may forget us; but it has
not yet done so, and though it lives all day on the lawn and in the great elm
trees close by, it is still a “ Household Pet” and the merriest playfellow we have.
I wish I could spring as lightly. Sometimes Harold and Flit—that is his name—
have climbing matches up the old oak tree, but Flit always wins, though I think

he has taught my brother to climb very well for a boy.
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