English
Nohomeisevermeanorpoor
Whereloveawaitsyouatthedoor.
—Whitefoot.
“There,”saidMrs.Whitefoot,assheworkedastripofwhitebirchbarkintotheroofofthenewhomesheandWhitefoothadbeenbuildingoutoftheoldhomeofMelodytheWoodThrush,“thisfinishestheroof.
Idon’tthinkanywaterwillgetthroughiteveninthehardestrain.”
“Itiswonderful,”declaredWhitefootadmiringly.“Whereverdidyoulearntobuildsuchahouseasthis?”
“Frommymother”repliedMrs.Whitefoot.“Iwasborninjustsuchahome.ItmakesthefinestkindofahomeforWoodmousebabies.”
“Youdon’tthinkthereisdangerthatthewindwillblowitdown,doyou?”venturedWhitefoot.
“OfcourseIdon’t,”retortedlittleMrs.Whitefootscornfully.
“Hasn’tthisoldnestremainedrightwhereitisforoverayear?
DoyousupposethatifIhadthoughttherewastheleastbitofdangerthatitwouldblowdown,Iwouldhaveusedit?
Docreditmewithalittlesense,mydear.”
“Yes’m,Ido,”repliedWhitefootmeekly.
“YouarethemostsensiblepersoninalltheGreatWorld.Iwasn’tfindingfault.
Yousee,Ihavealwayslivedinaholeinthegroundorahollowstump,oraholeinatree,andIhavenotyetbecomeusedtoahomethatmovesaboutandrocksasthisonedoeswhenthewindblows.
Butifyousayitisallright,whyofcourseitisallright.
ProbablyIwillgetusedtoitafterawhile.”
Whitefootdidgetusedtoit.Afterlivinginitforafewdays,itnolongerseemedstrange,andhenolongermindeditsswayingwhenthewindblew.Thefactis,heratherenjoyedit.
SoWhitefootandMrs.Whitefootsettleddowntoenjoytheirnewhome.
Nowandthentheyaddedabittoithereandthere.
SomehowWhitefootfeltunusuallysafe,saferthanhehadeverfeltinanyofhisotherhomes.
Yousee,hehadseenseveralfeatheredfolkalightclosetoitandnotgiveitasecondlook.
Heknewthattheyhadseenthathome,buthadmistakenitforwhatithadoncebeen,thedesertedhomeofoneoftheirownnumber.
Whitefoothadchuckled.Hehadchuckledlongandheartily.
“Iftheymakethatmistake,”saidhetohimself,“everybodyelseislikelytomakeit.
Thathomeofoursisrightinplainsight,yetIdobelieveitissaferthanthebesthiddenhomeIeverhadbefore.
ShadowtheWeaselneverwillthinkofclimbingupthislittletreetolookatanoldnest,andShadowistheoneIammostafraidof.”
ItwasonlyadayortwolaterthatBusterBearhappenedalongthatway.
NowBusterisveryfondoftenderWoodmouse.
MorethanonceWhitefoothadhadanarrowescapefromBuster’sbigclawsastheytoreopenanoldstumpordugintothegroundafterhim.
HesawBusterglanceupatthenewhomewithouttheslightestinterestinthoseshrewdlittleeyesofhis.
ThenBustershuffledontorolloveranoldlogandlickuptheantshefoundunderit.AgainWhitefootchuckled.“Yes,sir,”saidhe.“ItisthesafesthomeI‘veeverhad.”
SoWhitefootandlittleMrs.Whitefootwereveryhappyinthehomewhichtheyhadbuilt,andforonceinhislifeWhitefootdidverylittleworrying.
Lifeseemedmorebeautifulthanithadeverbeenbefore.
Andhealmostforgotthattherewassuchathingasahungryenemy.
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