"It is fortunate that I am able to take care of myself and our children, too," she mused, digging her way to the ground and beginning to throw out the dirt with her tiny paws.
Soon a neat underground channel was dug which led out into the open air, and then Mrs. Field Mouse rested from her labors and hungrily nibbled a bit of corn.
"We can escape if worst comes to worst, darlings," she said, reassuringly.
When Mr. Field Mouse returned he looked discontentedly over the supper table where his family were contentedly nibbling at an ear of nice yellow corn. "Nothing but corn for supper," he grumbled.
Mrs. Field Mouse resolutely kept her temper and went on placidly eating. "Well, have you decided to move?" she asked, pleasantly. "I have discovered a barrel of broomcorn seed setting up in the granary that will make a snug home for the winter. No one will be likely to disturb us, and on the whole I think it will be a desirable change," she said.
"It is too far away from the pile of sugar cane to suit me, I fear," he said, curling up in the softest part of the nest, and covering his nose with his paws was soon snoring heavily.
"I think this is the shock, Sam. I am sure I heard a mouse squeal when I went by this morning. Now, Fido!"
There was a great rattling of stalks, a sharp bark, a rush and Fido licked his chops and nosed about the place where Mr. Field Mouse had been contentedly snoozing but a few moments before, but he did not find any more dainty tidbits, for Mrs. Field Mouse and her children were safely skurrying away over the stubble in the direction of the granary.
Mary Morrison.