"Well, if here isn't another beggar for crumbs," chattered an impudent little voice near me, and looking round I saw a chipmunk sitting on a sun dial and washing his face and paws for supper.
"Don't be afraid," I said mildly, "I am no beggar. I am here because I love to watch human beings when they eat. I belong to the new boy, and I beg that you will not call attention to me by any unnecessary chattering."
"All right," he said, winking a beautiful brown eye at me, "if you'll promise not to tease for scraps from the table. There are too many of us now. I'm always hungry, and there are about a dozen juncos, some hermit thrushes, a bluejay, a tame raccoon, a white rabbit, the cat and about a score of other creatures—we're the steadies but there are lots of chancers."
"What do you mean by chancers?"
"Ones who happen along like that Plymouth Rock hen there sneaking down from the hen-houses. She knows she's not allowed here—but to come back to you. Of course you won't hurt any of us?"
"Hurt you, my dear chipmunk," I replied. "I believe in the rights of all creatures—even deer mice. I have an arrangement with two already that they may come in my stable, but if they bring any more in or if they run over my food I'll drive them out."
"You drive a mouse," he said. "A clumsy thing like you couldn't do it."
"Couldn't I?" I remarked sarcastically.
"How would you do it?" he asked.
"Quickly, my friend. You ought to see the fancy play of my hoofs."