“He’ll never come here while I live,” said Chickari gayly, “for I told the Big Red Squirrel that I just loved this neighborhood and would bring up my young ones so carefully that if they dared to suck a bird’s egg or kill a young one I’d bite their ears off.”
Chickari’s face as he said this was so ferocious, and at the same time so comical, that we all burst out laughing at him.
Our laughter was checked by pitiful squeals from our house, four doors down, and we all stared that way.
Our Billie was running down the sidewalk with something dark and hairy on her back. Like a yellow and white streak she raced in by the boarding house, which was set back from the street, and dashed into a little shrubbery behind it.
I flew after her as well as I could in my tailless condition. Some persons do not know that even the loss of one feather makes a difference in a bird’s flight.
The shrubs had scratched the monkey off and, jabbering excitedly at Billie, she stood threatening her, till seeing Black Thomas coming, she ran nimbly down the street to our house.
Black Thomas was mewing angrily at Billie, “And what are you doing in my yard—haven’t you one of your own?”
“Oh, let me alone, cat,” said Billie wearily. “I’m only resting a bit. I’m dead tired.”
Black Thomas snarled a trifle; then, seeing
her friend the cook at the back door, he went to her.