Little Mitchell: The Story of a Mountain SquirrelMorley, Margaret Warner
General
Little Mitchell: The Story of a Mountain Squirrel
Morley, Margaret Warner
Squirrels -- Juvenile literature
But when they got to the station where they had to wait so long, she
opened his box, and out he came. He ran all over her as fast as he
could go, even jumping from her shoulder to the top of her head, and
played with her hair, which she told him was naughty. Then he jumped
down and ran all around the tops of the benches, for there was nobody
else in the waiting-room.
After a while a gentleman came in to wait for the train too, and he
fell quite in love with the playful little fellow, and wanted to buy
him to take home to his children; but of course the lady would not sell
him.
At last the train came, and they got on and rode awhile, and then got
off again to wait for another train. This was in a large station, full
of people and lighted by electric lights.
Little Mitchell’s lady saw his box bumping about, and heard something
inside go scratch, scratch, scratch. So she took off the cover, and out
came Little Mitchell. He was very tired from being shut up so long and
carried so fast in the jolty train, and he wanted to come out and see
what was going on. The electric lights and the crowd and the strange
sights and sounds all excited him. His eyes shone, and he was not
satisfied to sit on his lady’s shoulder and look about. He wanted to
leap upon the back of a lady who was dressed in laces and furs. He was
determined to do it, too; but every time his lady caught him just as he
was about to spring, and told him he mustn’t.
How surprised the strange lady would have been if he had done it! And
how frightened Little Mitchell would have been! For, once there, he
would not have known what to do, and would have wished himself back on
his own lady’s shoulder.
At last she went into a dark corner with him, and let him sit on the
seat by her and look at the people while he ate a piece of sugar cooky.
Then the train came, and they got into the sleeping-car,—Little
Mitchell in his little box, of course.
He was a good squirrel all night, and early in the morning the lady let
him look out of the window; but he did not like that,—it frightened
him to see things rushing by so fast. He preferred to race up and down
in the berth, and jump at the lady’s fingers from under the edge of the
blanket, and turn somersaults when she made believe catch him.
After a little while he got tired of this play, and was quite willing
to be put into his box, where he stayed quietly until they got to
Jersey City, and crossed the ferry, and went to the Grand Central
Station in New York City, and got upon another train that soon left the
noisy city behind.
The noise and motion of the train seemed to tire and confuse the
little fellow, so that he was glad to stay hidden away in his own box,
which was now the only thing that really seemed like home to him,—for
even the lady had changed her skin, or at least she had put on strange
clothes, which must have seemed to him just like changing her skin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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