"I have an idea!"
"Have you?" Brownie Beaver exclaimed. "What is it, Mr. Crow?"
"I'll be your newspaper!" Mr. Crow told him.
At that Brownie Beaver looked somewhat doubtful.
"That's very kind of you," he said. "But I'm afraid it wouldn't do me much good. You're so black that the ink wouldn't show on you at all—-unless," he added, "they use white ink to print on you."
"You don't understand," old Mr. Crow said. "What I mean is this: I'll fly over here once a week and tell you everything that's happened. Of course," he continued, "I can't very well tell you everything that is going to take place the following week. But I'll do my best."
Brownie Beaver was delighted. And when Mr. Crow asked him what day he wanted his newspaper Brownie said that Saturday afternoon would be a good time.
"That's the last day of the week," Brownie Beaver remarked, "so you ought to have plenty of news for me. You know, if you came the first day of the week there would be very little to tell."
"That's so!" said Mr. Crow. "Well say 'Saturday,' then. And you shall have your newspaper without fail—unless," he explained—"unless there should be a bad storm, or unless I should be ill. And, of course, if Farmer Green should want me to help him in his cornfield, I wouldn't be able to come. There might be other things, too, to keep me at home, which I can't think of just now," said Mr. Crow.
Again Brownie Beaver looked a bit doubtful.