"Mr. Devering was at the show and rescued him. He had the showman fined heavily—but, Pony, here comes the human mother-bird."
Such a fine matronly young woman with a grave sweet face was coming out of the house.
Her hands were full of wild roses that she put in a bowl of water on the table.
"Good gracious!" I said to the junco, "what is that furry brown creature curled up and clinging to the skirt of her gown?"
"That is Black-Paws, the raccoon. He is a great pet of this house-mother's mother, a wee old lady who comes here in summer. When Grammie is not here, he follows her daughter about and slides along the floor holding on to her dress."
"Mrs. Devering must be a very kind lady," I said. "That fat raccoon is heavy."
"She is very patient with him, but see now she is shaking him off."
"Go away, Black-Paws," the lady was saying, "You tire me. Here take this piece of cake," and she went to a side table.
To my great amusement, the stout-bodied little creature with the funny black patches on his face held up his fore paws, took the cake, and when her back was turned began to wash it in one of the glasses of water on the table.
"He's the cleanest animal on the place," said the junco. "He nearly washes his food away."