MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



compelling her to move that one could get a 

 glimpse of the furry ball in the tree-cradle. As 

 she sat thus sometimes quietly nibbling nuts, 

 sometimes rapidly rubbing and smoothing her fur 

 from the tip of her rat-like nose to the end of her 

 handsome tail she always had a severe expres- 

 sion of " don't wake the baby." 



I think it is just about two weeks since the 

 youngster bade farewell to his mother and set 

 out in life on his own responsibility. But though 

 he goes no more to nursery haunts, he is never- 

 theless not shelterless. Such snug quarters as he 

 has found for himself! I am certain that his 

 mother w r ould drive him from them and secure 

 them for herself did she but know of their su- 

 perior charms and advantages. 



It was shortly after he left the paternal roof, 

 during a day of severe wind and heavy rain, that 

 I discovered Baby on our roomy veranda our 

 bungalow, as we call it. Tables, chairs, and 

 couches had been drawn back from exposed places 

 and packed into a sheltered corner, while the en- 

 tire collection of veranda rugs and cushions had 

 been heaped upon them ; and high and dry on the 

 summit of this structure sat our friend, Baby. 

 The little fellow was looking out complacently 



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