‘I’m not a horrid boy,’ said Sep. ‘I’m the seventh son of a seventh son.’
‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Squirrel, ‘of course that makes all the difference. Have some nuts?’
‘Rather,’ said Sep. ‘At least I mean, yes, if you please.’
So the squirrels brought nuts down to him, and when he had eaten as many as he wanted they filled his pockets, and then in return he [p133 chopped all the lower boughs off the chestnut-tree, so that boys who were not seventh sons could not climb up and interfere with the squirrels’ housekeeping arrangements.
Then they parted, the best of friends, and Sep went on.
‘I haven’t found my fortune yet,’ said he, ‘but I’ve made a friend or two.’
And just as he was saying that, he turned a corner of the road and met an old gentleman in a fur-lined coat riding a fine, big, grey horse.
‘Hullo!’ said the gentleman. ‘Who are you, and where are you off to so bright and early?’
‘I’m Septimus Septimusson,’ said Sep, ‘and I’m going to seek my fortune.’
‘And you’ve taken an axe to help you carve your way to glory?’