"Oh! as far as room goes," replied the woodmouse, "they have a range of ten miles in which to choose their home. I cannot promise to call on them, you know; that could not be expected. But if they behave themselves, they may in time overcome the prejudice against them."
"Very well," said Coon, "I shall send them, then. How are you all at home?" he added, "and what is going on in your set?"
Now it was the woodmouse's turn to look confused.
"My son is to be married on the second evening after this," he said. "That is the only thing I know of."
"What?" cried Coon. "Your son Prick-ear? Why, he is one of my best friends! How strange that I should have heard nothing of it!"
"We didn't know—we really thought—we supposed you were asleep!" stammered the woodmouse.
"And so you chose this time for the wedding?" said the raccoon. "Now, I call that unfriendly, Woodmouse, and I shouldn't have thought it of you."
The woodmouse stroked his whiskers, and looked piteously at his formidable acquaintance. "Don't be offended, Coon!" he said. "Perhaps—perhaps you will come to the wedding, after all. Eh? of course we should be delighted."
"Yes, to be sure I will come!" said the raccoon, cheerily. "I don't bear malice. Oh, yes! I will come, and Toto shall come, too. Where is it to take place?"