Peanuts? Oh, he wouldn’t touch a peanut,—not if he were ever so hungry. He wouldn’t open one, and he wouldn’t eat it if the lady opened it for him. No,—he wouldn’t look at peanuts. But he would eat beech-nuts until you wondered where in the world he put them all. And pecan nuts he liked almost as well, only of course the lady had to crack them for him. He knew a good nut from a bad one, too, before opening it. You could be very sure that if he threw down a beech-nut or an almond without trying to open it, there was nothing fit to eat inside. How he knew, I cannot tell; but the rascal did know. I suppose it was some of that squirrel wisdom that kept coming to him as he grew older. He used to drink from a tumbler in those days; but he would not take it between his lips, as he used to take the spoon. He would stand up, holding on to the edge with his hands, and then drink, making a great noise while doing it. It was just the way children sometimes drink when they are naughty; but he was not naughty,—he didn’t know any better, and it was all so cunning his lady did not try to teach him. She made up her mind, though, that she would teach him a great many things, he was so gentle and affectionate and intelligent. But he _was_ something of a nuisance about wasting her time. For one thing, she had to brush his coat every morning; and he would sit quite still to have his head and ears brushed. He would turn his head first one side, then the other, so that his ears could be brushed all around and back of them, inside and out. But as soon as his ears were washed, he thought that was enough, and that it was time for some fun; so he would catch hold of the brush and bite it, and kick at it with his hind feet like a kitten playing, and when the lady scolded him he would sit still for about a second, then he would snatch at the brush again, or maybe suddenly fly off from her knee and across the room. But she always brought him back, and made him stay until his fur was nicely brushed from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. The tail was the hardest to fix. How he would act when she got to his tail! He _knew_ it was time for some fun then, and he would jerk the brush out of his lady’s hand, and run away with it in his mouth, and when she caught him and took it away he would catch hold of his tail and begin to comb it very fast himself with his hands and his front teeth. [Illustration: LITTLE MITCHELL SITS IN HIS CHAIR “He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page 192)] Did he ever get over crying when his mouth was wiped? Oh no, after every drink of water he screamed in the same naughty way if the lady wiped his mouth. He much preferred springing upon her and wiping it very hard on the front of her dress. I suppose he thought laces and ribbons were made for squirrels to wipe their faces on!