THE OLD HOLLOW STUMP
Oh, dear me, how Mr. North Wind did blow! He rocked Mrs. Oriole’s nest that hung from the willow tree by the Old Duck Pond back and forth till Little Jack Rabbit thought it would come off and drop to the ground. But it didn’t, for Mrs. Oriole knew how to knit, let me tell you, and her stocking-like nest clung to the old willow tree like a thrift stamp when you try to get it off to buy something you forgot to get before the war began!
“Well, I guess I’ll let it alone,” said Mr. North Wind; “maybe Mrs. Oriole will want to use it next spring. Perhaps she used up all her wool making sweaters for the boys over there.”
“When do you go back north?” asked the little rabbit, for he was thinking of the dear old summer time, when Granddaddy Bullfrog sat on his log and caught flies and the darning-needles skimmed over the water.
“Oh, pretty soon, not so very long,” said Mr. North Wind. “When Miss Spring and her little Balmy Breezes come tripping over the Sunny Meadow, I’ll say good-by!” And then he whistled:
“I’m a husky old wind, I am,
I could blow the shell off a clam,
I shake the shutters and bang the doors,
And curl the nails on the pussy cat’s paws.”
And then that boisterous old wind went into the Shady Forest and broke a dead limb off the old chestnut tree and nearly hit Squirrel Nutcracker, who had come out of his hole for a few minutes to stretch his legs.