“She won’t hurt you,” said the boy, to the squirrel and the birds. “You need not be afraid of her.”
The little girl was heard coming through the woods, and more of the birds took alarm, quickly darting away on silent wings.
“Here, Felicia—here I am,” answered Dick.
The squirrel did not stop longer. With a flirt of its tail, it bounded to the trunk of the tree, up which it scampered.
Felicia came running toward the tree, but when she got there the squirrel was gone and not a bird remained.
This seemed strange enough, for surely Felicia was the more gentle of the two in appearance, and she was so tender-hearted that for the world she would not harm the weakest creature in all creation.
But about the boy there was a certain quality that few human beings possess—a magnetism that attracted the wild things of nature. He had listened to the voices of these creatures and learned their calls. He had watched them till he knew all their ways. And his heart went out to them in sympathy, for their wild, free life seemed to him the perfect life.
“I didn’t know where you were, Dick,” said little Felicia, her dark eyes full of gladness because she had found him.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” said Dick.
“Care?” she cried, flinging her arms about his neck and kissing him. “Why, how can you say that? What do you mean? You know, Dick—you know how much I love you!”