"Surely," she always answered as she trotted away. Then the children
would rest happily in their burrow-nest.
But now Mrs. Ground Hog was hungry, and it was broad daylight. She knew
that it was because her children grew bigger every day and had to have
more and more milk. This meant that she must eat more, or else when they
wanted milk there would not be enough ready. She knew that she must
begin to feed by day as well as by night, and she was glad that she
could see fairly well if the sun were not shining into her eyes.
"Children," said she to them, just as they finished their morning lunch,
"I am very hungry and I am going out to feed. You will be quite safe
here and I want you to be good while I am gone."
The young Ground Hogs began to cry and clutch at her fur with their weak
little paws. "Oh, don't go," they said. "Please don't go. We don't want
to stay alone in the daytime. We're afraid."
"I must," said she, "or I shall have no milk for you. And then, you
wouldn't have me lie here all day too hungry to sleep, would you?"
"N-no," said they; "but you'll come back soon, won't you?"
"Yes," said she, and she shook off their clinging paws and poked back
the daughter who caught on again, and trotted away as fast as she
could. It was the first time that she had been out by daylight, and
everything looked queer. The colors looked too bright, and there seemed
to be more noise than usual, and she met several people whom she had
never seen before. She stopped for a minute to look at an Ovenbird's
nest. The mother-bird was inside, sitting there very still and brave,
although she was much frightened.
"Good-morning," said Mrs. Ground Hog. "I was just admiring your nest. I
have never seen it by daylight."
"Good-morning," answered the Ovenbird. "I'm glad you fancy my nest, but
I hope you don't like to eat meat."
"Meat?" answered Mrs. Ground Hog. "I never touch it." And she smiled and
showed all her teeth.
"Oh," exclaimed the Ovenbird, "I see you don't, for you have
gnawing-teeth, rather like those of the Rabbits." Then she hopped out
of the nest and let Mrs. Ground Hog peep in to see how the inside was
finished and also to see the four speckled eggs which lay there.
"It is a lovely nest," said Mrs. Ground Hog, "and those eggs are
beauties. But I promised the children that I would hurry. Good-by." She
trotted happily away, while Mrs. Ovenbird settled herself upon her eggs
again and thought what a pleasant call she had had and what an excellent
and intelligent person Mrs. Ground Hog was!
All this time the children at home were talking together about
themselves and what their mother had told them. Once there was a long
pause which lasted until the brother said: "I'm not afraid, are you?"
"Of course not," said they.
"Because there isn't anything to be afraid of," said he.
"Not anything," said they.
"And I wouldn't be afraid anyway," said he.
"Neither would we," answered the sisters.
There was another long pause.
"She said we'd be just as safe as if it were dark," said the big sister.
"Of course," said the brother.
"And she said she'd come back as soon as she could," said the second
sister.
"I wish she'd come now," said the smallest sister.
There was another long pause.
"You don't suppose anybody would come here just to scare us, do you?"
asked the second sister.
"See here," said the brother, "I wish you'd quit saying things to make a
fellow afraid."
"You don't mean that you are frightened!" exclaimed the three sisters
together. And the smallest one added: "Why, you are, too! I can feel
you tremble."
"Well, I don't care," said the brother. "I'm not afraid of people,
anyhow. If it were only dark I wouldn't mind."
"Oh, are you afraid of the daylight too?" cried each of the sisters. "So
am I!" Then they all trembled together.
"I tell you what let's do," said the smallest sister. "Let's all stop
looking toward the light end of the burrow, and cuddle up together and
cover our eyes and make believe it's night." They did this and felt
better. They even played that they heard the few noises of the
night-time. A Crow cawed outside, and the brother said, "Did you hear
that Owl? That was the Great Horned Owl, the one who had to hatch the
eggs, you know."
When another Crow cawed, the smallest sister said, "Was that his cousin,
the Screech Owl?"
"Yes," answered the big sister. "He is the one who used to bring things
for the Great Horned Owl to eat."
So they amused themselves and each other, and really got along very well
except when, once in a while, they opened their eyes a little crack to
see if it were not getting really dark. Then they had to begin all over
again. At last their mother came, and what a comfort it was! How glad
she was to be back, and how much she had to tell them! All about the
Ovenbird's nest and the four eggs in it, and how the Ovenbirds spent
their nights in sleeping and their days in work and play.
"I wonder if the little Ovenbirds will be scared when they have to stay
alone in the daytime?" said the smallest sister.
"They would be more scared if they had to stay alone at night," said
their mother.
"At night!" exclaimed all the young Ground Hogs. "Why, it is dark
then!"
"They might be afraid of the darkness," said their mother. Then the
children laughed and thought she was making fun of them. They drank some
milk and went to sleep like good little Ground Hogs, but even after he
was half asleep the big brother laughed out loud at the thought of the
Ovenbird babies being scared at night. He could understand any one's
being afraid of daylight, but darkness----!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]