THE TRAGEDY.
We had a very cold snap the last fortnight in January. Morning after morning the water, and also the milk, in the squirrel-house were frozen into solid blocks of ice. I did not worry. I thought squirrels were such hardy little animals. The year before, Bunty and Fritz had lived happily through the same conditions, and been healthy and well all the time. I did not take into account that both these squirrels, being so tame and confiding, were never afraid to come inside the room, and often spent the coldest nights sleeping together in the serge bag hanging behind the curtains. This must have kept them very warm all night. Peter and Ruby were, on the contrary, so wild and timid that nothing would induce them to remain long in my room.
Little Peter, it is true, did often slip into the serge bag in the daytime; but the maid, drawing the curtains at night, annoyed and startled him, and he generally bolted for the cage.
I consoled myself with the thought that he and Ruby would keep quite warm cuddled up together in the sleeping-box. And besides, was not Fritz exceedingly well and lively all the time out of doors?