“I am getting too old to work,” she answered, and she wiped the tears from her black eyes. Then abruptly she turned to look through the window. It was a small hole covered with a silken curtain that had been woven by a spider.
“Please don’t cry, mother,” implored Tiny. He put down his acorn, went over to his mother and drew her down upon a little couch made of moss. “I am willing to work hard to support you. Perhaps some day I shall become great. Who can tell?”
“But I want you to have a fine education,” said his mother, looking with pride at her son, “and we have no good schools!”
“Perhaps a fairy may find me a good school. I can work to pay my way!” cheerfully suggested Tiny. “I have heard that those who do this make the best students.” He fanned his mother with a small peacock feather. He thought that she might drop into a doze, for he knew that she had not been sleeping much of late, but just then a persistent rapping at the tree began.
“It must be Mr. Woodpecker,” said Mrs. Redsquirrel with a sigh. “Every day he comes over to rap this tree. The noise makes my head ache.”
“Please sit still. I’ll go outside to see what he wants,” said Tiny, hastening from the room.
“Hello!” he cried lustily.
Mr. Woodpecker did not answer. He was digging his long, straight, pointed beak into the bark of the tree. His stiff tail was spread out to prop his body, for woodpeckers would not be such good climbers if they had no tails. He was black and white, and wore a jaunty scarlet cap.
“Sir,” said Tiny, “You annoy my mother. Furthermore, Mr. Graysquirrel, who owns this tree, will make you pay dearly for all the damage you are doing to his property.”