And she was sure then and for the rest of her life that the birds and the flowers loved the old home with its trees and its gardens as much as she did.
And she always thought of sweet Lady Orchid when she gathered wild flowers.
[XVI]
WHY MRS. CROW IS BLACK
It was the dead of night. Old Mr. Fox left his cozy den and went to call on his friend, the wise old Mrs. Owl. For many years it had been his custom to do this, for he found her the most engaging company. Her home was in a hollow tree and she was always obliging enough to put her head out the window and inquire who was there, if any of her friends knocked hard and long at the basement door. It was useless to call in the daytime: she was always asleep while the sun shone, and in the early evening she would be abroad hunting her supper. But after the cocks crew at midnight, and people in their beds were turning over to get their best sleep, Mrs. Owl would come flying through the woods and across the river, and up the hill to her own great tree, having eaten heartily of whatever she may have found. Then she was ready to sit on her window ledge for a visit with her friends.
So it was very late, and the woods was still as death, when patter, patter, through the underbrush came Mr. Fox to call on Mrs. Owl. Arriving at the bridge across the river, he jumped nimbly to the hand-rail and trotted on that narrow board as easily as a cat walks over the fence. For he was sure some dog would pass that way, come morning, but no dog would ever scent the wise fox who walks the rail.
"Always sniffing at the ground, these foolish dogs," thought Mr. Fox; and he laughed to himself as he jumped down into the bushes and ran on to the hill and the great cottonwood tree, whither Mrs. Owl herself had just returned.
With a big stick he hit the tree a hard blow. Then he barked politely and sat down to wait.
Way up in the top of the dead tree the window was open. Two great eyes looked out.