Spooky nodded solemnly. “I've lived in that hollow summer and winter for three years,” said he. Peter's eyes opened very wide. “And till now I never even guessed it,” he exclaimed. “Did you raise a family there?” “I certainly did,” replied Spooky. “Mrs. Spooky and I raised a family of four as fine looking youngsters as you ever have seen. They've gone out into the Great World to make their own living now. Two were dressed just like me and two were gray.” “What's that?” exclaimed Peter. “I said that two were dressed just like me and two were gray,” replied Spooky rather sharply. “That's funny,” Peter exclaimed. “What's funny?” snapped Spooky rather crossly. “Why that all four were not dressed alike,” said Peter. “There's nothing funny about it,” retorted Spooky, and snapped his bill sharply with a little cracking sound. “We Screech Owls believe in variety. Some of us are gray and some of us are reddish-brown. It is a case of where you cannot tell a person just by the color of his clothes.” Peter nodded as if he quite understood, although he couldn't understand at all. “I'm ever so pleased to find you living here,” said he politely. “You see, in winter the Old Orchard is rather a lonely place. I don't see how you get enough to eat when there are so few birds about.” “Birds!” snapped Spooky. “What have birds to do with it?” “Why, don't you live on birds?” asked Peter innocently. “I should say not. I guess I would starve if I depended on birds for my daily food,” retorted Spooky. “I catch a Sparrow now and then, to be sure, but usually it is an English Sparrow, and I consider that I am doing the Old Orchard a good turn every time I am lucky enough to catch one of the family of Bully the English Sparrow. But I live mostly on Mice and Shrews in winter and in summer I eat a lot of grasshoppers and other insects. If it wasn't for me and my relatives I guess Mice would soon overrun the Great World. Farmer Brown ought to be glad I've come to live in the Old Orchard and I guess he is, for Farmer Brown's boy knows all about this house of mine and never disturbs me. Now if you'll excuse me I think I'll fly over to Farmer Brown's young orchard. I ought to find a fat Mouse or two trying to get some of the bark from those young trees.” “Huh!” exclaimed Peter. “They can try all they want to, but they won't get any; I can tell you that.” Spooky's round yellow eyes twinkled. “It must be you have been trying to get some of that bark yourself,” said he. Peter didn't say anything but he looked guilty, and Spooky once more chuckled as he spread his wings and flew away so soundlessly that he seemed more like a drifting shadow than a bird. Then Peter started for a certain swamp he knew of where he would be sure to find enough bark to stay his appetite. CHAPTER XLIII. Queer Feet and a Queerer Bill.