And, sad to say, her father's honest suspicion was too well founded. The explanation is this. One day shortly after the class was formed, and when the other squirrels had all gone home from play, either to study or help their parents, Silver Ribbon remained stealthily behind to amuse herself as best she could. Hearing a soft noise in the tree upon whose branches she was leaping and running, she turned quickly round and saw a large, dark snake with gleaming, piercing eyes. She was frightened and was about to run away, which she could easily have done, as the reptile was not very near, but it spoke at once, and in a soft, attractive, motherly voice persuaded her to stay a minute.
"Do you wish to be at the head of your class, dear?" enquired the snake.
"I do indeed," answered Silver Ribbon, "it is a great honor."
"You can easily secure it," said the snake.
"Without labor and trouble?" enquired the squirrel.
"Yes, if you do what I tell you."
"What shall I do?" asked the squirrel.
"What is your position in the class at present?" the reptile asked.
"I am second, but I have reached it mainly by a cunning copying from the other slates, and I fear I can't keep that up long."
"You suffer slightly from a weak spine, don't you?" enquired the snake in a sympathetic tone.