But if Unc' Billy was a funny-looking fellow, Ol' Mrs. Possum was even more funny-looking. She seemed to have heads and tails all over her. You see, she had brought along her family, and Ol' Mrs. Possum is one of those who believe in large families. There were twelve youngsters, and they were exactly like their parents, only small. They were clinging all over Ol' Mrs. Possum. Some were on her back, some were clinging to her sides, and a couple were in the big pocket, where they had spent their babyhood. “We--all done thought we'd come to school,” explained Unc' Billy with a grin. “I'm glad you did,” replied Old Mother Nature. “You see, the rest of your friends here are a little curious about the Possum family.” Meanwhile Ol' Mrs. Possum was climbing a tree, and when she had reached a comfortable crotch the little Possums left her and began to play about in the tree. It was then that it appeared what handy things those naked little tails were. When the little Possums crawled out where the branches were small, they simply wrapped their tails around the twigs to keep from falling. “My!” exclaimed Peter. “Those certainly are handy tails.” “Handiest tails ever was,” declared Unc' Billy. “Don't know what Ah ever would do without mah tail.” “Suppose you climb a tree, Unc' Billy, and show your friends here how you manage to get the eggs from a nest that you cannot reach by crawling along the branch on which it is placed,” said Old Mother Nature. Unc' Billy grinned, and good-naturedly started up a tree. He crept out on a branch that overhung another branch. Way out where the branch was small crept Unc' Billy. Then he wrapped the end of his tail around the branch and swung himself off, keeping hold of the branch only with his tail and one hind foot. Then, stretching down full length, he could just reach the branch below him. “You see,” he explained, “if there was a nest on this branch down here, Ah could get those eggs without any trouble. Ah wish there was a nest. Just speaking of eggs makes mah mouth water.” Again Unc' Billy grinned and then pulled himself back to the other branch. Old Mother Nature shook her head reprovingly. “Unc' Billy,” said she, “you are a bad old rascal to steal eggs. What's more, it doesn't matter to you much whether you find eggs or young birds in a nest. It is a wonder that between you and Chatterer the Red Squirrel any of the birds succeed in raising families around here. Have you visited Farmer Brown's hen house lately?” Unc' Billy shook his head. “Not lately,” said he; “Ah done got a dreadful scare the last time Ah was up there, and Ah reckons Ah'll stay away from there for a while.” “What else do you eat?” asked Old Mother Nature.