MORE SQUIRRELS 



just cuddle up on a knot or projecting piece of 

 bark only a few feet away, looking as if they 

 would like nothing better than to be taken In the 

 hand and petted. 



I remember hearing my grandmother tell how 

 one winter evening she was sitting before the fire, 

 when my grandfather came home from the woods 

 and taking off his coat threw it across a chair near 

 the fireplace. Presently a flying squirrel crawled 

 out of one of the pockets, sailed across the room 

 to where she sat, and nestled contentedly in her 

 hair, which she wore in a great fluffy mass piled 

 high above her head. I cannot recall the sequel 

 of the story, which was undoubtedly interesting, 

 at all events to those chiefly concerned in it. 

 No one ever knew exactly how the squirrel came 

 to be in the coat, but it was supposed that a 

 family of them must have been disturbed by the 

 choppers in the wood-lot and that this one had 

 taken refuge in my grandfather's pocket, probably 

 bereft of what little wit it ever had by the noise 



251 



