"What!" cried Noodle. "Don't you have to go to school?"
"Of course, not—on moving day," answered Billie. "I got an excuse from teacher. Johnnie and I are both staying home."
"I wish we were moving," said Toodle, looking at Noodle.
"So do I," said Noodle, looking at Toodle. "Then we wouldn't have to go to school. Where are you moving to, Billie?"
"To the old hollow stump, next door to where Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys, live," answered the little squirrel. "Oh, say, but this bag is heavy!"
"Let us help you carry it," said Toodle. "We'd like to; wouldn't we, Noodle?"
"Indeed, we would!" cried the other little beaver boy. "Mamma has always told us to help our friends when we could. I'll carry it part way, Billie—"
"And I'll carry it the rest of the way!" interrupted Noodle, before Toodle could finish. "You just let us take it, Billie."
So the squirrel boy gave the bag to Toodle—the bag that was filled with needles and pins, and combs and brushes, and little salt cellars and odds and ends that Mr. and Mrs. Bushytail, the squirrel lady and gentleman, did not want to pack in the wagon that Old Dog Percival brought to move them in.
You know how it is when you move—there are always some little things left out. Why I remember once, when we moved up from the seashore, I left out my hat on the clothes post and I had to go all the way back for it, and a big wave nearly washed my face and—