"I won't keep you long," Mr. Crow told him. "It's about your name—"
"I've no time to stop to explain," Sandy Chipmunk interrupted. "As I said, I'm very busy to-day." And he started to scamper along the wall again.
Once more Mr. Crow stopped him.
"You don't understand," he said. "I don't want to ask you anything. I want to tell you something."
"Oh!" said Sandy. "That's different. What is it?"
"It's quite a joke," Mr. Crow said. And he laughed loudly. "These young fellows here have been trying to tell one another why you're called Sandy. One of 'em says it's because you like to dig in the sandy soil; and another says it's because of your color; and still another claims it's because you're plucky. But I tell 'em it's because your real name is Alexander. And of course I'm right," said old Mr. Crow.
Sandy Chipmunk smiled. And then he started off again. And again Mr. Crow stopped him.
"Quite a joke on these youngsters—isn't it?" he inquired.
"You told me you didn't want to ask me anything," Sandy Chipmunk reminded him. "But I will say this—though I am in a great hurry: So far as I know, you are all of you right. And that's a joke on you, Mr. Crow."
Then Sandy Chipmunk scampered off. And everybody laughed—except Mr.
Crow.