But we all felt bad when a careless man shot him by mistake.
And Lulu mourned so much that Aunt Sarah, after talking with mamma and grandma, went away one afternoon, and returned at night with a large box, about which she was as mysterious as a fairy godmother.
Lulu knew from experience that Aunt Sarah’s mysteries always meant something delightful; and after a little teasing about what was in the big wooden box, she put two kisses on auntie’s cheek, and said she would go to bed, and “find it all out in a dream.”
But she didn’t, after all. She was awakened the next morning by a smart little tap that was not a kiss, on her own round, pinkie-pearly cheek.
And there was such a queer little munchy noise going on!
The blue eyes opened; languidly at first, but they were wide and bright in an instant, for there was something curious for them to see. First, a heap of walnuts lying on her bed. Where did they come from? Then, sitting up in the midst of them, and working away like a complete little nut-cracker, was the most charming gray squirrel that anybody ever saw.
“O!” exclaimed Lulu. “Why!! Where did you come from, Beauty?”
For all answer, Gray-Coat tossed her an empty walnut-shell, and cracked an uncommonly large one on the spot, just to show her how well he could do it.
Lulu picked up a piece of shell from the pillow. “That’s what struck me on the cheek,” she said, jumping up. “I know now! he was in Aunt Saty’s box, and I guess he’s all mine. Where’s auntie? Where is mamma?
“O! O! O! What is this here? A little silver house, true’s I live.”