The life story of a squirrelBridges, T. C. (Thomas Charles)
General
The life story of a squirrel
Bridges, T. C. (Thomas Charles)
Squirrels -- Juvenile fiction; Squirrels -- Juvenile literature
Night came on, and no Jack. I could not eat, but sat awake all night,
hoping for and expecting my master. Next morning Harry came to feed
me, and was horrified when he found that I had not eaten my supper. He
brought me every delicacy that he could think of, and at last, just to
please him, I ate a nut or two. That evening he was taking me up to his
room again, but as we got to the door I hopped out of his pocket and
scampered off to Jack’s door. He let me in, and though it was a fresh and
bitter disappointment not to find my master, yet I felt a little happier
among the familiar surroundings, and plucked up spirit enough to dig out
a nut which I had hidden in his big bath-sponge and eat it. So that night
Harry turned me loose in his brother’s room. I went to bed in a pocket of
one of Jack’s old coats which hung against the door, and tried hard to
imagine that my master was wearing it.
It was morning when I poked my head out. There was the smooth, white,
empty bed, and still no sign of Jack. Presently the maid came in, and
not seeing me, opened the window to air the room. After she had gone I
clambered out of the coat-pocket and began aimlessly wandering about the
room. Presently I found myself on the window-sill, and, catching sight of
the elm branches waving close by, with one spring I was in the tree, and,
running down the trunk, rapidly reached the grass. Outside the shadow
of the tree the wide, smooth lawn sparkled with thick dew. I had never
been out so early before, and I greatly disliked the cold wetness of the
grass. But so anxious was I to find Jack that I hardly thought of the
discomfort, and I made my way with all speed to the bench where he so
often sat.
But he was not there. All was deserted and strangely quiet; only the
thrushes hopped past searching for their breakfast of worms, and a robin
sang from the sunny summit of a clump of evergreens.
Often I had perched upon Jack’s shoulder as he strolled round to the
stables to see his pony Tarbrush. To visit the stable was the next idea
that came to me, and keeping as close as possible to the friendly shrubs
and trees, I worked quickly round through the garden till I came to the
belt of laurels which lay between the back premises and the stables.
I felt happier when I was off the ground and among the branches of the
shrubs, and climbing quickly through them, soon came to the gate of the
stable-yard.
There were cats here. I had seen them on my previous visits, and under
any other circumstances nothing would have induced me to venture alone
into the long, paved yard. But anxiety to find my master swallowed up all
other considerations, and dropping from the laurels, I made straight for
the door of Tarbrush’s stall.
There was no one in sight. Only from a stall on the other side came the
hissing of a groom busy about a horse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account