The child thought the wisdom of the furry folk very wonderful indeed and wondered if the little fellows ever found the hiding places of their treasures in after days.
Chip, as Sally had named her favorite squirrel, was so tame that he often followed her out of the park and across the street to the kitchen door, which he was not slow to enter, for well he knew that cook kept a generous store of nuts in the pantry for his especial benefit.
On one beautiful afternoon Sally was sitting on her favorite bench in the Park under a spreading maple, whose gorgeous foliage of crimson and fine gold cast strange moving shadows on the grass as the west wind gently swayed the branches.
Perched on her knees was Chip, busily engaged in demolishing a fine walnut. Having finished it and thrown away the shell, he sat up gravely with his little paws crossed on his breast, as is the fashion with squirrels at attention, and gently closed his eyes while Sally softly stroked his soft fur and scratched his round ears, a process which he enjoyed luxuriously.
After a few moments he opened his bright eyes and looking up into the child’s face remarked: “Sally, do you know what night this is going to be?”
“Hallowe’en,” responded Sally promptly. “And Bob and I are going to have jack-o’-lanterns, and duck for apples and have lots of fun.”
“So will we see lots of fun,” replied Chip with an important air. Sally fancied there was something significant in his glance. But as it was growing late she gently placed him on the bench and trotted home, while Chip frisked away to his cosy little cottage in the branches of the maple tree.
At the front door of the house the child met Peter Pan. He hurried toward her, evidently bursting with suppressed excitement.