On a chilly morning when snowflakes were thick upon the ground, Sammy the Squirrel sat in the doorway of his warm, cozy house, which was nothing more nor less than a tree hollow dug out for him by his ancestors many years before.
The bough of the tree in which the house was built whipped about in a very angry manner, for it was a brisk, cold morning, and every now and then the wind had quite a jump in it. But Sammy didn’t mind the weather, even if the snow did fall thick and fast most of the night. He had plenty of food stored away under the floor of his house, so that he hoped he would not have to set his foot outside during the bitterest of weather. Just then his friend Peter Rabbit hopped up to him and said:
“Good morning, Sammy! Aren’t you afraid that the track of your foot will be covered up before you can find your breakfast? You didn’t expect the snow to fall last night when you cached so many acorns.”
“Who told you that I cached any acorns?” snapped Sammy, half cross and half afraid that Peter Rabbit had discovered some of his secrets. For you see the fact of the matter is that Sammy deliberately kept one or two acorns out on a bough of the tree when he thought he had cached them all, and if Peter had seen him he wouldn’t have enjoyed his breakfast quite as much, for Sammy the Squirrel is a little too great a miser to suit the other little people who live in the woods.
“I saw you,” said Peter simply, so simply that Sammy felt ashamed of his cross words, and, too, he felt that there was no use in trying to hide his acorns from Peter. You see, when Peter said that he had seen Sammy taking the acorns up into his house, that was enough for Peter, and he didn’t trouble to say where.
“I don’t forbid you to look for them, if you can find them,” said Sammy, looking rather sly.
“Indeed, Sammy,” said Peter, with a twinkle in his eye, “you are very lucky to have acorns to cache. For my part, I like the older ones the best.”
Sammy shook his head.
“Oh, I don’t like any too old, I assure you. No, indeed.”
“Well, well,” said Peter, “the snow sells cheaper than we expect.” And so having said what he came to say he hopped along contentedly, for Peter knows well when others are happy.
The next to come along was Hooty the Owl, who, without your permission, would come at dinner hour and take up a goodly portion of your time telling you how much he knew.
“I don’t know whom I can blame in this neighborhood,” he would say when he came to your house, “but it seems to me as if everybody must have a bitter mouth this light and snowy day; that is, of course, excepting those who are warm and comfortable inside their snow-covered houses.”
So, of course, Sammy invited Hooty the Owl in, and to the very best of his poor ability entertained him, for Hooty the Owl is marvellously wise.
All the while Sammy was showing off his store of provisions he had noticed that Hooty seemed to look rather quizzically at the several places which held freakish seeds of different sizes and at different times.
“Hooty,” at last said Sammy, “what do you think I ought to do? I have heard such dreadful stories told about ‘We never tell stories,’ that you could not imagine how unhappy I feel.”
“Well,” said Hooty the Owl, “may I humbly suggest a mind to your own business? But I shall, of course, have to fly higher before I can see to the bottom of yours.”
And with that, away flew Hooty the Owl to some other locality, and Sammy sank down and thought over what his friend Peter Rabbit had told him.
Soon after this all the bears held their free dinner in the nearest settlement, to which they were all invited, but it was Sammy’s first visit, and he was not quite up to the free-and-easy ideas of his neighbours.
When the time of his visit had nearly expired he felt that he was no longer on honour, and that he might, to honour himself, pay attention.
“I wonder how things go now,” he proudly asked one acquaintance.
“Drinks of every character by the forelegs,” was the answer.
“I hope there is nothing of a contraband nature,” objected Sammy.
“Why, sartain; every one attends to this perlite request, with this impressive exception.” Then he added more seriously, “It would be too bad now if some wouldn’t quit drinking so much or keep individual secrets to themselves.”
And so to avoid all mistakes, Sammy, to be on the safe side, kept his head towards the lavatory.
At the expense of life and limb Benny the Badger, who martially occupied the post, brought him the news that his surprise was coming. And very shortly after that Mr. Chatterer, who was much less addicted, indeed, was always in a terribly angry humour whenever he chanced to have it put to him, as such, flew up to him on his red tail and intimated that all caught in the trap would be turned out into the accommodation in about five minutes, and so to leave Sammy the Squirrel to finish his breakfast, after Hooty the Owl’s surreptitious word from the trees.
So, to avoid any quarrels probability might be furnishing mediation and settlement, and possibly, even indemnity, close upon the back of this regrettable incident, Sammy thought it wiser to own up, by resigning custody first, and to save the game or talk which he was quite unprepared for and which might be that all served with uncracked nuts saw, or, at any rate, report him.
Well, peace was made at his house, and his friends forgave him. But the vow of Hooty the Owl heeded well and came oftener than he did before, and fairly picked him to pieces.
“There is nothing so good, thank Heaven,” he at last remarked, rather short. “You don’t mean that you think when ghosts tell ever so many lies, that by printing your whole confession we’ve come of a better quality?”
Now Sammy the Squirrel is very thankful for all the friends he has, and knows full well that honesty is the best policy, for those who try to keep secrets which others want to find out are oftentimes found out themselves, and usually suffer more than they expected to provide for their maintainance.