“Grammar is never bad,” corrected the owl. “It is your English that is bad.”
“But why did you take me away from dear old Squirreltown?” wailed Tiny.
“To teach you the lesson of humility,” replied the owl prophet. “I have flown all the way to Squirreltown and back here to keep you from disgracing yourself. I am glad that I went. To see little Tiny Redsquirrel, puffed with vanity, frisking about with his little paws and bushy tail, lecturing to the old citizens of Squirreltown, was enough to make a wise owl laugh. What do you suppose the mayor thought of you?”
“I don’t know,” replied Tiny, ashamed of himself in spite of his excitement. “I fear that I was very pompous; but then I had delivered Squirreltown from the bears, and I thought I had a right to be bold. You see, the mayor intended to have me for supper.”
“If you complain any more, I myself will have you for supper,” declared the owl, with no pity whatever. “I suppose you mean that the mayor intended to entertain you at supper, for it is not likely that he would wish to eat you.”
Tiny stared in bewilderment. He could not understand all the odd sayings of the prophet, but, nevertheless, he corrected himself by saying:
“The mayor invited me to eat supper with him.”
“Well, he will have all the more to eat without you, and will not have to listen to any more of your speeches,” snapped the owl. “Which one of those squirrels was the mayor?”
“The large one with the sleek fur. I have often been told that the mayor looks like I do,” replied Tiny, his new vanity again appearing.