Little Mitchell’s First Meal
“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page [52])
And now you know it was Little Mitchell, who had fallen out of his nest and was lying there in the lady’s hand.
Such a funny little fellow as he was!—all head and feet, with almost no body at all, and a queer little stub of a tail that was hardly as long as his queer little body.
The lady laughed when she saw him, and then she felt very sorry for the helpless little one.
What could she do with him? She could not lay him down on the cold mountain and go away and leave him. And yet he must just as surely die if she took him, she thought, for she had nothing with which to feed him.
He nosed around in her hand in such a comical, helpless way, not crying now, but whimpering like a very tired, worn-out little baby,—which, you know, is just what he was.
Finally the lady started on with him in her hand; but he squirmed and whimpered so, she soon grew tired of holding him—and then, what do you think she did?
She had on a warm flannel waist with a soft loose belt, and into the waist she tucked him. In a moment he had worked his way down under the belt, where he snuggled up, stopped crying, and went fast asleep.