Once upon a time, in a cozy little meadow, there lived a hedgehog named Harry. Harry had adorable little eyes, a fluffy belly, and the sweetest characteristics of a hedgehog. Unfortunately, he was as slow as a sleepy snail, and he was also quite shy because of that. This combination made him feel quite hopeless indeed.
One may wonder: Is this really true? Is it true that being a little slow and a little shy is such an awful thing? Harry certainly thought so, for he had never made a friend. Most of the other little animals in the meadow were very kind, but Harry felt so ashamed of being so slow and so shy that he avoided them altogether. He was really a very delightful little hedgehog, and I am sure they would have loved him dearly if he had only given them a chance.
Harry was most miserable on certain days when he would watch a game going on near his door, and no one invited him to join. The rabbits were having some fun of that sort one day when a nice little mustached rabbit hopped up to him with a cheery, “Good morning, Harry! Why don’t you come out and join us? It’s so much nicer when you’re here?”
Harry tried to thank him, but he only managed a very futile sort of “Couch, couch! Couch, couch!”
But he was thinking so very hard what to say that he hardly noticed it was the wise old owl who called so merrily over his big spectacles, “Good day to you, Harry. What do you think of this miserable weather? Don’t you think it gets worse every day?”
“Couch, couch! Yes, yes, yes!” replied Harry. “But that is no reason why animals should not play when the weather is miserable, if they only take care not to catch cold!”
“You are right, Harry,” said the owl, “and it is no reason why you should not join them when they are playing, even if it happens to be a game of ‘hop.’ Of course, Harry, you would not hop over, but you could roll. But it requires a little courage to join them, everybody knows! However, I assure you, your neighbors would be delighted.”
“Do you really think so?” said Harry, turning from side to side and scratching some moss from under his feet with his little nails.
“Indeed, my boy, I do,” said the owl. “You must remember that each has something special in him. Remind yourself of that, and don’t give way to shyness next time.”
Harry made no reply. He only smiled a little sheepishly, and thought, “Won’t the rabbits be surprised when they see me rolling over?”
“I wish you a good morning,” said the owl, and moved off to his treetop.
Harry, however, could not get rid of the idea of “rolling over.” By next morning, when the rabbits were having their game near his door, he was standing there waiting. Scarcely had they called to him before he rolled over from one side to the other, and the round little fellow was there at once!
Well, you should have seen everybody. They all hopped back in amazement. Jerry the rabbit was on his feet at once, and said, “It is really only Harry!” And before he had time to finish his speech, Harry pushed himself over to where they were standing, rolling from side to side, like a ball. Even the rabbit had to agree this was a trifle amusing, and he invited Harry to be one of the party.
Harry grew bolder and bolder. Although everybody agreed that he was somewhat shy, still they were very fond of him. After four weeks of careful observance, Harry had three very dear friends, and there remains now only one thing to narrate about him, and that is that you can probably guess his whole history from the last lines of this one.
But let me add how glad Harry was to think he had listened to the wise old owl.