“No,” said Caleb, “I don't want any flag-staff. I want to keep the squirrel.”
“See, see,” said David, “he is creeping along.”
“O,” said Dwight, “I wish he was mine.”
“There, he is curling up in the corner.”
“Would you give him to me for my top?” said Dwight, very eagerly.
“He's going to eat that kernel of corn,” said David.
“I should think you might give him to me,” said Dwight, pettishly, “for that top; the top is worth a great deal the most.”
After a few minutes, Dwight finding that there was no prospect of inducing Caleb to sell him the squirrel, desisted from his attempts; and then, after a moment's pause, he said,
“I don't think it is your squirrel, after all, Caleb.”
“Whose is it then?”