“I have brought a pupil to Miss Hare,” said the owl. “Please see that he has a comfortable room for the night. Tell Miss Hare that I will write her a letter soon.”
The owl prophet flew away, leaving Tiny with the beaver, who moved sleepily back along the willow boughs to a group of quaint houses made of mud, stones, and sticks. Their dome-shaped roofs were several feet above the level of the water.
Suddenly, from the front window of one of the houses, a gleam of light shot forth and an odd-looking animal thrust out its head.
Tiny, who by this time was accustomed to surprises, looked up to behold Miss Hare gazing down upon him. She looked very comical in her white nightcap.
“Well, well, well, what is the matter?” she cried in a high voice. “My nerves are shaken by the dreadful noises I have heard. What is the matter, Mr. Beaver?”
“Mr. Owl has brought another pupil,” said the beaver, politely. “I do not know where to put him.”
“MR. OWL HAS BROUGHT ANOTHER PUPIL,” SAID THE BEAVER, POLITELY.
“Let him stay with Reynard Redfox to-night,” replied Miss Hare, looking searchingly at Tiny. “What a frail little creature you are! You must belong to the Rat family.”
Tiny did not like Miss Hare’s frank way of speaking, and to be compared to a rat was not agreeable, but he said politely: