In this abode Laurence remained till the 2nd May, when I set him free altogether. But before giving him his liberty I had to get a mate for him, so that there should be no excuse for fights with the masterful Fritz. As Messrs. Devon and Co. took some time before they found what I wanted (for she had to be a German, young, and healthy), Laurence had to remain solitary for a month.
March 1914 was a dreadful month of gales, rain, and snow squalls; but with the first days of April came spring-like warmth and brilliant sunshine, and the wild squirrels visited the garden again.
One morning the dear little thing, whom I used to call Miss Fritz in the summer of 1913, came dancing and skipping along the fence rails, and I watched her at 6 a.m. from my bedroom window. She climbed the big lime tree to have a look at the little shelf outside my casement, where, as she well remembered, nuts were spread galore in the days of her childhood last year. Yes! there they were, and down she ran and made a dash for the wall and the sheltering ivy. Up she scrambled, and in another moment was perched on the extreme corner of the ledge, with her beautiful tail cocked over her back, and an almond clutched in her little claws. She let me stand quite close, not a foot away, with the window wide open; and oh! how pretty and small and dainty she looked to my eyes, accustomed for so many months to the coarser build and shaggier fur of the Germans. Her little face was so appealing and baby-like, her nut-coloured fur so soft, and her tail so fluffy!
She knew me again quite well; looked at me with recognition in her brilliant black eyes; and presently, dropping the empty shell of her almond, she came hesitatingly to the inside ledge of the window, stretching out her nose to sniff at me—to make quite sure that I was in very truth her old friend; and, having satisfied her little mind, she picked up a walnut and concentrated her attention upon it. I stood beside her there for ten minutes, till she had finished all the provender except one cob nut, which she carefully hid in the ivy. Then she raced down to coquette with poor Laurence, who in his garden-cage was doing his wild best to excite her attention. Round and round the wire she darted, sniffing nose to nose with him and “twizzling” her plumy tail. Every now and then I heard squeaks and exclamations. Then they started a sort of hide-and-seek, she outside, he inside. I felt very sorry for him, and longed to let him out; but his peace, let alone his life, would not have been worth a moment’s purchase with Fritz in the wood.
Two days before this, Laurence had got out. The little door of his house, though shut, had not been bolted, and with a sudden burst of summer-like sunshine and high wind the rain-swollen wood had shrunk, and was easily burst open when pressed by his eager paws. I did not see him go. He must have skipped off very early indeed; but about 10 a.m. I happened to be looking out of the window, and was suddenly aware of two hurrying furry forms across the ground. Poor Laurence was tearing for all he was worth towards the shelter of his lately forsaken house, and Fritz was after him, with murder in his eyes.
I clapped my hands and shouted, startling them both and diverting Fritz’s attention. He sprang up a tree, and Laurence hid himself in the twinkling of an eye. I saw Master Fritz watching intently for a few moments, and wrathfully “twisting his tail” (as a young friend of mine puts it). His rival remaining invisible, however, I soon saw him skipping leisurely back along his tree footpath to Mrs. Fritz in the wood.
Half an hour later I perceived Laurence stealthily making his way along the fence towards his house, where nuts were plentifully spread. (I suspect he had not had much of a breakfast.) I fled downstairs and out in time to see his tail drawn neatly through the open door, as he seized a cob nut and sat up to enjoy it. He scarcely noticed me as I bolted him in—only too thankful, I fancy, to find himself once more where were plenty of nuts and no Fritz.