LITTLE SKIPPY 



"COME, Skippy, Skippy ! Come, little Skip- 

 py ; I have a handful of nuts for you, Skippy/' 



1'rances Willard sat on the rustic porch of 

 her pretty cottage at Twilight Park in the 

 Catskill mountains. It was a sweet summer 

 morning. Cheerily and patiently she called her 

 pet chipmunk, which I had named Little Skippy. 



Soon we heard a rustle in the leaves across 

 the ravine, then a patter of tiny hurrying feet 



''I hear him," whispered Miss Willard. 

 "Dear Little Skippy that he is !" 



Along the birch bark rails of the porch he 

 came, straight to the friendly waiting hands, 

 and seating himself contentedly where Miss 

 Willard could look into his twinkling eyes; he 

 sent the shells flying as his sharp teeth found 

 the sweet nuts in a hurry. 



I took a snapshot of the two friends as the}' 

 sat together. The happy look on Frances Wil- 

 lard's face will tell you how much she enjoyed 

 Skippy's company. 



Often he would come into the cottage, and 

 if she were busy writing or studying he would 



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