"Oh, nurse, to guess such silly stories!" said the little girl, stopping her ears. "Those are too silly for me even to tell baby! My story is a nice story about a darling tame beaver. Major Pickford took me on his knee and told me the story last night."
Mrs. Frazer begged Lady Mary's pardon for making such foolish guesses, and declared she should like very much to hear Major Pickford's story of the tame beaver.
"Well, nurse, you must know there was once a gentleman who lived in the bush, on the banks of a small lake, somewhere in Canada, a long, long way from Montreal. He lived all alone in a little log-house, and spent his time in fishing and trapping and hunting; and he was very dull, for he had no wife, and no little child like me to talk to. The only people whom he used to see were some French lumberers; and now and then the Indians would come in their canoes and fish on his lake, and make their wigwams on the lake-shore, and hunt deer in the wood. The gentleman was very fond of the Indians, and used to pass a great deal of his time with them, and talk to them in their own language.
"Well, nurse, one day he found a poor little Indian boy who had been lost in the woods, and was half starved, sick, and weak; and the kind gentleman took him home to his house, and fed and nursed him till he got quite strong again. Was not that good, nurse?"
"It was quite right, my lady. People should always be kind to the sick and weak, and especially to a poor Indian stranger. I like the story very much, and shall be glad to hear more about the Indian boy."
"Nurse, there is not a great deal more about the Indian boy; for when the Indian party to which he belonged returned from hunting, he went away to his own home; but I forgot to tell you that the gentleman had often said how much he should like to have a young beaver to make a pet of. He was very fond of pets; he had a dear little squirrel, just like mine, nurse, a flying squirrel, which he had made so tame that it slept in his bosom and lived in his pocket, where he kept nuts and acorns and apples for it to eat; and he had a racoon too, nurse—only think, a real racoon! and Major Pickford told me something so droll about the racoon, only I want first to go on with the story about the beaver."
"One day, as the gentleman was sitting by the fire reading, he heard a slight noise, and when he looked up was quite surprised to see an Indian boy in a blanket coat, with his dark eyes fixed upon his face, while his long black hair hung down on his shoulders. He looked quite wild, and did not say a word, but only opened his blanket coat, and showed a brown-furred animal asleep on his breast. What do you think it was, nurse?"
"A young beaver, my lady."
"Yes, nurse, it was a little beaver. The good Indian boy had caught it and tamed it on purpose to bring it to his white friend, who had been so good to him.
"I cannot tell you all the amusing things the Indian boy said about the beaver, though the Major told them to me; but I cannot talk like an Indian, you know, Mrs. Frazer. After the boy went away, the gentleman set to work and made a little log-house for his beaver to live in, and set it in a corner of the shanty, and he hollowed a large sugar trough for its water, that it might have water to wash in, and cut down some young willows and poplars and birch trees for it to eat. And the little beaver grew very fond of its new master, it would fondle him just like a little squirrel, put its soft head on his knee, and climb up on his lap. He taught it to eat bread, sweet cake, and biscuit, and even roast and boiled meat, and it would drink milk too.