“You've stolen it! You're a thief, Jimmy Skunk!” snapped Granny Fox.
“Words can never make black white;
Before you speak be sure you're right,”
said Jimmy Skunk. “I'm not a thief.”
“You are!” cried Granny working herself into a great rage.
“I'm not!”
“You are!”
All the time Jimmy Skunk was chuckling to himself, and the more he chuckled the angrier grew old Granny Fox. And all the time Jimmy Skunk kept moving toward old Granny Fox and Granny Fox kept backing away, for, like all the other little meadow and forest people, she has very great respect for Jimmy Skunk's little bag of scent.
Now, backing off that way, she couldn't see where she was going, and the first thing she knew she had backed into a bramble bush. It tore her skirts and scratched her legs. “Ooch!” cried old Granny Fox.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Jimmy Skunk. “That's what you get for calling me names.”