“Yes, there is plenty of bark,” agreed Mrs. Woodchuck, looking around at the trees, through which the morning sun was just beginning to shine. Woodchucks sometimes eat bark, you know, as well as clover. “Yes, there is plenty of bark,” said Winkie’s mother again. “And I had rather eat the bark of a tree than listen to the bark of a dog,” she added, smiling as she made this little joke.
Mr. Woodchuck smiled, too—that is, as much as woodchucks ever smile—and he felt happy. When his wife made little jokes this way he knew that she, too, was happy. Really, you could hardly have blamed the woodchucks for being unhappy, when they had to get out of their underground house in the way they did.
“Yes, I think we shall like it here in the woods,” proceeded the woodchuck lady. “But of course it would never do for winter.”
“Oh, my, no!” agreed her husband. “When winter comes we will dig ourselves a new burrow.”
Just then Winkie awakened and cried out in some fear:
“Oh, where am I?”
“Hush, Winkie! You’re all right!” her mother called. “We are in our new home—in the woods. You’ll like it very much!”
“Oh!” murmured the wily woodchuck girl. “I was dreaming, Mother, that I was playing tag with Blunk, and he tickled me.”
“Well, these leaves are tickling me!” cried Brother Blunk, who just then awakened.