“We’d rather!” persisted Ally, sitting up.
“And have to take medicine, and stay up-stairs in bed all day? And you couldn’t remember the place!”
“Oh, yes we could!” she cried eagerly. “We know the very tree—the old pine that Pincher said was as old as a pine can be, and that has been struck by lightning so often. The squirrel has his nest up there, and the nuts were in a great hollow at the root. Oh, we know the very spot!” And Ally’s smile now was so bright that it made her tears look like sparks of fire.
“And you want to take the nuts back,” said Old Uncle. “What for? Because you took what wasn’t yours, or because you pity the squirrel?”
“Oh, both, Uncle! both! And we haven’t eaten one!”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve found your consciences. Almost all the nuts on the trees and lying on the ground are yours, if you choose to take them. But the nuts that the squirrels have laid away—why, that’s another story! Let’s see. It’s a rather tough storm. Aunt Susan will be sure you’ll be made sick—I tell you what we’ll do. We won’t tell her!” said Old Uncle. “Where’s the bag and the baskets? In the garret? Run up and put the nuts in, and then get on your cloaks and leggings and overshoes, and your hooded waterproofs, and come down here, both of you. Quietly now, quietly.”
Ally danced back to Essie. And presently the twins, and Old Uncle—loaded down with bag and baskets—stole out of the side-door, like conspirators.
They found the hickory-wood without any difficulty, and the old pine-tree on its farther edge, with two scolding squirrels far aloft in it. The children put back the nuts, and joyously pulled and piled over them the wet leaves and moss, scattering about a few particularly fat ones, while Old Uncle pictured to them the bewilderment of Mr. Squirrel when he should find his nuts there after all. He said Mrs. Squirrel would declare they must have been dreaming, or else had a bad nightmare.