But the smallest Stoat of all felt quite anxious to know what fur would be worn, because she was a vain little person, and felt it would be very sad if Stoat-fur coats were not the fashion. So when she went home to dinner she asked Mrs. Stoat the question. “Mother dear, you know everything. Do tell us what fur will be worn next winter.” [Illustration] “Why, Stoat-fur, of course,” the Mother answered, laughing; “unless-—-” She stopped short and looked at Mr. Stoat, who nodded and then they both laughed, and everyone sat down to dinner. But that silly smallest Stoat of all couldn’t sleep for thinking of that “unless.” What could it mean but that perhaps some other fur would be worn? And then _unfashionable_! It was a dreadful thought. Before morning she had made up her mind to go out into the great world and find out what fur was to be worn next winter. So she said nothing to anybody, but she started off alone; and perhaps she would soon have seen how silly she was and have come running back again, but, alas! she was caught in a trap, and the keeper who caught her would have killed her, only his little daughter begged so hard that the keeper agreed to spare the little creature’s life. So the smallest Stoat of all was kept in a hutch. [Illustration] And there she stayed for weeks and weeks; and when it grew very cold the hutch was put in the stable, so that she was always warm; but she longed to get home again. “I don’t think I should care about not being in the fashion,” she said sadly to herself, “if only I could go back to my dear Mammy and the old home!” Now, one day two ladies took refuge from a snowstorm in the keeper’s house, and as they passed the stable the smallest Stoat of all heard one of them say: “You see, I was right. Nothing is being worn but _ermine_!” And the little person in the hutch recognised the voices of the two ladies she had seen in the wood. So now she had found out the great secret! And it so happened that the very next day someone left the door of her hutch open, and she slipped out very cautiously, lifting up her little head and turning it from side to side, and sniffing to make sure that there was no danger near. Then she started to run across the snowy fields to her old home. But as she ran she heard feet behind her—and ran faster and faster—a little brown streak on the snow. And the feet came faster too. They were a dog’s feet—and she heard the dog’s quick breathing close behind her as she rushed into the old home, and knew she was safe. As soon as she had got over her fright enough to look about her, she received another shock; she was in the midst of a number of strangers all dressed in creamy white fur dresses who were only like her as to their neat black tails. “I’m sure I beg your pardon,” she said; “I thought this was the house where my Father and Mother lived.”