“So are the High-Flyers our relatives. If we could get them to come there would be some sense to it. But of course a flying squirrel would never come to our house if a common chipmunk is a guest. It isn’t to be expected,” said Featherhead.
“Confound him for a puppy,” said old Nutcracker. “I wish good, industrious sons like Tip Chipmunk were common.”
But in the end Featherhead had his way, and the Chipmunks were not invited to Nutcracker Lodge for Thanksgiving dinner. However, they were not all offended. Indeed, Tip called early in the morning to pay his compliments of the season, and leave a few dainty beechnuts.
“He can’t even see that he is not wanted here,” sneered Featherhead.
At last old papa declared it was time for Featherhead to choose some business.
“What are you going to do, my boy?” he asked. “We are driving now a thriving trade in hickory nuts, and if you would like to join us——”
“Thank you,” said Featherhead, “the hickory trade is too slow for me. I was never made to grub and delve in that way. In fact I have my own plans.”
To be plain, Featherhead had formed a friendship with the Rats of Rat Hollow—a race of people whose honesty was doubtful. Old Longtooth Rat was a money-lender, and for a long time he had had his eye on Featherhead as a person silly enough to suit the business which was neither more nor less than downright stealing.
Near Nutcracker Lodge was a large barn filled with corn and grain, besides many bushels of hazelnuts, chestnuts and walnuts. Now old Longtooth told Featherhead that he should nibble a passage into the loft, and set up a commission business there—passing out nuts and grain as Longtooth wanted them. He did not tell Featherhead a certain secret—namely, that a Scotch terrier was about to be bought to keep rats from the grain.
“How foolish such drudging fellows as Tip Chipmunk are!” said Featherhead to himself. “There he goes picking up a nut here and a grain there, whereas I step into property at once.”