Part 20

Do you know how he learned to sit in the doll’s chair?

The lady got a little wooden chair and table to give to a little girl; but before she gave them away she thought she would see if she couldn’t teach Little Mitchell to sit in the chair. So she let him get quite hungry one day; then she put him in the chair with one hand while she gave him a nice cracked nut with the other.

He was so eager to eat his nut that he never moved! She drew the table up in front of him, with some nuts and a little red apple lying on it, and Little Mitchell sat there like a well-behaved child and ate his supper. He soon got used to it, and if he felt like it he would sit still in the tiny rocking-chair and eat his nuts; but sometimes he would jump up and tip over the chair, table, and everything else.

He liked apples. He liked to have a whole one, so he could roll it around and play with it. You should have seen him try to hold it in his hands like a nut! When he found he couldn’t, he would crouch down close to it and gnaw a hole in the skin. But don’t imagine he would swallow the skin! He wouldn’t, not a bit! He flung it away, as he did the nut-shells, and ate the soft pulp inside.

He did not often get a whole apple, because the lady did not like to have the bits of skin thrown about the floor. You see, he would go to work and peel half the apple before he took a bite. He seemed to do this for fun; but he never picked up the little pieces of skin he flung about.

But much as he liked apples, he liked grapes better; and these he could hold in his hands. He looked very pretty, sitting up with his bushy tail showing above his head and a big yellow California grape in his hands.

LITTLE MITCHELL MAKES A MISTAKE

Little Mitchell did not allow anybody to touch him except his lady; and he would not eat for any one else. He would not even make friends with the other people in the house,—but that may be because he did not see enough of them.

One day the lady heard no sound from him for a long time, and she began to look around for him; but Little Mitchell was gone! She looked all about the room,—no Little Mitchell. In his cage,—no Little Mitchell. In the closet, where the dresses hung,—no Mitchell. She shook the dresses to see if he had not gone to hide in them and fallen asleep,—no Little Mitchell. Then she called him,—not a sound. Finally she went out into the hall and looked for him, for the door was open,—but still no Little Mitchell.

Then she went into the room of her next neighbor, who was a newspaper editor and not at home, but whose door was open; and there, in the middle of the floor, looking about him to see what to go at first, sat Little Mitchell!

The rascal! As soon as the lady came he made a dive for the hall and scampered home; for she had told him he must not go near the open door, and had scolded him so often for doing it that he knew perfectly well he ought not to do it.

Yes, indeed,—he knew when he was scolded, and scolding was usually enough; though once or twice the lady had spatted him,—not hard, you know, not hard at all; but it almost broke his heart, he was such a sensitive little thing.

The first time it happened he had done something very naughty, and he knew it was naughty too. The lady caught him up and cuffed him ever so little; but she was dreadfully frightened when the little fellow stiffened out as though he were dead, and lay perfectly still for ever so long. But he never did the naughty thing again.

The only other time he got slapped was when his lady’s friend put out her hand to touch him. He was sitting on his lady’s knee, and he deliberately reached out and bit the visitor’s finger. Yes, he really bit it so that a drop of blood came.

That was naughty, and he knew it; and his lady slapped him a little, and said, “No, no, Mitchell!” very crossly, and he jumped away, his tail all fluffy, and ran as fast as he could and tucked his head up her sleeve as far as he could get it.

Perhaps the reason why he went to the editor’s room was because that was where the singing came from, and he did enjoy hearing anybody sing! When the editor was at home, he used to sing a great deal; and Little Mitchell would climb up on the screen which stood in front of the open door, and lean his head away down, and cock his ear to listen, and there he would stay as still as a mouse as long as the editor sang or whistled.

One day he really went visiting. His lady took him to a friend’s house one night just as they were finishing dinner, and she was invited to have some of the ice-cream.

She had Little Mitchell buttoned up under her jacket; but as soon as the ice-cream came along he put in an appearance and wanted his share, which he ate very nicely out of a spoon, to the amusement of all who saw him.

After dinner, when they were all together in the sitting-room, one of the young men—who was a Harvard student, and knew more about many other things than he did about squirrels—said Little Mitchell did not really know the lady, but would just as soon go to anybody else if he were left alone.

So all the family—eight or nine, counting the visitors—formed a circle, and the lady set Little Mitchell down in the middle, and then quickly stepped back behind him to a new place in the circle.

Little Mitchell’s bushy tail jerked nervously for a minute, and his bright eyes looked wildly from one strange face to another; then he gave a leap and landed at his lady’s feet, and in another second was up on her shoulder.

After that, no one denied that he knew his lady, and liked her best of all.

He had to take an airing once in a while, and the way he went was to ride in his own private carriage,—which was nothing less than the inside of his lady’s jacket. She would button it all but the two top buttons, and tuck him in, and away they would go for a walk or a romp together.

Little Mitchell thought this great fun, and usually gave no trouble. Sometimes they walked along the street, when Little Mitchell would pop his head out and look about, but if anybody came along he would pop it back again.

Sometimes they went to the Public Garden; and here he had many adventures. One day his lady thought she would let him climb a tree. So she chose a little one, put him on one of the lower limbs, and then stepped back. Little Mitchell looked about, but did not climb; he took two or three steps, then I suppose he decided it was an awful thing to be left there alone on a wild little tree in a wild park that stood in a wild world that he knew nothing about; so he gave one tremendous jump and landed on his lady’s shoulder, and scurried down into his safe hiding-place under her jacket, and peeped out at the terrible tree and the strange world he was so afraid of.

Then she put him on the grass, and went on; but Little Mitchell went on too, and in less time than it takes to tell he had caught her and come flying up again to his safe place in her jacket.

Sometimes he would come out and sit in her hand; but it seemed a very dangerous world to a squirrel who had never been out of doors,—and so it was, for did not a little girl come up to look at him one day and suddenly grab him in both hands? But how quick she let go! He squealed his loudest, and squirmed like an eel, and no doubt would have bitten her, only she was so frightened that she dropped him on the grass. The lady quickly stooped down with her hand out, and he sprang upon it and ran up her arm and hid in her jacket. No little girls for him!

He liked to have the lady go to a lonely part of the Public Garden, and sit on a bench, and let him sit beside her with a nice pecan nut that had been cracked a little so that he could open it by working at it awhile.