the south, and the maple trees were green with 

 winged seeds, the children rather sadly opened the 

 door of the cage and set the wild geese free. 



And that was the best ending to the story, the 

 father said. 



THE FLYING SQUIRREL 



One of the branches of Mr. Whiting's great 

 poplar tree had died, and Mr. Whiting told Tim, 

 the hired man, to saw it off. 



Billy Whiting and his cousin Joe followed Tim 

 out on the lawn and watched him climb the tree, 

 settle himself among the branches, and begin to 

 saw. 



Billy and Joe were about the same age, but Billy 

 was the taller by almost half a head. He was 

 rather a fat boy, and something of a bully. Ever 

 since his cousin Joe had come to visit him, he had 

 been teasing and daring him. " Ho," he would 

 say, " you can't do what / do " ; or, " You'd be 

 afraid, but Fm not" ; or, "you daren't do it, but T 

 can." 



Now as they stood watching Tim up in the tree, 

 sawing away, Billy began boasting again: "You 



