He got down and took his saucer of milk under 

 the stove as if nothing unusual had happened. 



We had had a good many possums, crows, 

 lizards, and the like ; so, in spite of this winsome 

 show of confidence and affection, Pinky was 

 borne away once more to the briers. 



That night he did not creep in by the pump- 

 box trough. Nothing was seen of him, and he 

 passed quickly out of our minds. But he still 

 kept his notion. Two or three days after this, 

 as I was crossing the back yard, I stopped to pick 

 up a large calabash-gourd that I had left on the 

 woodpile. I had cut a round hole in the gourd 

 somewhat larger than a silver dollar, intending to 

 fasten the thing up for the bluebirds to nest in. 



It ought to have been as light as so much air, 

 almost, but instead it was heavy— the children 

 had filled it with sand, no doubt. I turned it 

 over and looked into the hole, and lo ! not sand, 

 but Pinky ! 



The notion had brought him back again. 

 How he ever managed to squeeze through the 

 opening, I don't know ; but there he was, sleep- 

 ing away as soundly as ever. 



He no longer possessed the notion ; the notion 

 [208] 



