“Oh yes,” said Tommy Smith. He had forgotten the dormouse, and, of course, he was a regular animal. By a “regular animal,” I suppose Tommy Smith meant one that wasn’t an insect, or a reptile, or a worm, or something of that sort. Perhaps he couldn’t have said exactly what he meant, but whatever he did mean, you may be sure that it was not very sensible, because all living creatures are animals, and one is just as regular as another, if you look at it in the right way.
“Well,” said the squirrel, “I think we are to have a little chat, are we not? It’s you that must ask the questions, you know.”
“Oh, I should so like to,” said Tommy Smith, “but I promised the mother woodpigeon to go back and talk to her, and I am going there now.”
“The mother woodpigeon will be on her nest for another hour or two,” said the squirrel, “so you will have time to talk to her and to me too. And let me tell you, it is not every little boy who can have a talk with a squirrel.”
Tommy Smith thought that it was not every little boy who could have a talk with a woodpigeon either. But he wanted to have both, so he said, “Very well, Mr. Squirrel, and I hope you will tell me something interesting about yourself.”
The squirrel only nodded, and said nothing; and then Tommy Smith remembered that he had to ask the questions, so he said, “Why is it, Mr. Squirrel, that you go to sleep in the winter? It seems so funny that you should. I stay awake all the time, you know—except at night, of course,—so why can’t you?”
“That is easily answered,” said the squirrel. “You have food in the winter, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” said Tommy Smith.
“Of course you do,” said the squirrel. “It is all got for you, so you have no trouble. I have to find mine myself, but in the winter there is none to find. So if I didn’t go to sleep, I should starve.”