NIGHT.
Upon awaking, Minnie was surprised to find all dark about her. The good
old squirrel had tucked the moss of her couch together so nicely that
she was warm and comfortable; but, on reaching out a hand, she felt the
leaves wet with dew.
Then a wind stirred the branches, and far up in the sky she saw the
twinkling stars, and knew that it was night.
Night, and the little girl was alone there out of doors! No mother in
the next room listening to see if her children breathed sweetly, and all
was well; no sister Allie to nestle close beside her, now; but the great
lonely sky above her, and the creaking elm-bough for her cradle.
And how high this cradle lifted her into the air! She hardly knew which
was farthest off, the ground or the sky. It was all so strange that
Minnie thought she must be dreaming. She stretched her hands out in the
starlight; they were small as squirrels' paws,--ten times smaller than
even baby Allie's dimpled hands,--small as those of her smallest doll.
Who ever heard of such hands for a little girl?
Yes, she felt sure it was a dream; but, turning to sleep, she was
aroused by a loud snoring. Could a man be hidden up here among the
boughs? And suppose he should catch her alive, and shut her up in a
cage, to be advertised, and talked about, and pointed at with canes and
parasols in Barnum's museum?
But now the snores seemed changing to sounds more like the purring of a
cat. Were not tigers a kind of cat? Suppose this were a tiger, ready to
spring down and seize her in his great paws, as a cat might seize a
mouse!
No; there came next a loud, rough laugh, startling to hear in the
silence; and then a great flutter, and a scratching sound, and
something alighted on the bough above her--something heavy, for the
bough bent till its leaves were crushed upon her face.
As soon as Minnie could push the leaves apart she looked up, and saw to
her dismay two great round eyes staring full at her! She covered her own
eyes, and in her terror would have fallen from the tree, had not her
dress been caught among the leaves.
"What's that? What's that?" a gruff voice called.
Then Minnie remembered what she had heard her mother, and even the
little squirrels, say, that it is foolish to fear anything; so, as
loudly as she could with her trembling voice, the little woman shouted:
"How do you do, sir? It's a fine evening, all but the cold!"
And, venturing to look once more, she saw what a curious animal she had
addressed; with the eyes of a man, he had the face of a cat, and the
bill and body of a bird.
"Who's here? who are you?" was his only answer.
"I am a traveller, sir. I have come from my home in the village, to make
my friends, the squirrels, a visit; perhaps I shall have the pleasure of
meeting you at their house."
"Not so fast! I'm an owl, I'd have you know, and do not keep company
with chattering squirrels. If you wish to see me you must come to my own
home."
"And where is that?"
"In the hollow around on the other side of the elm. We owls are
satisfied to sit thinking over our wisdom, and do not go scrambling
about like squirrels, and other simple creatures."
"How did you happen out to-night?"
"O, every evening I come up on this branch to take the air, and study
astronomy."
"Astronomy?--what's that?"
"It is counting the stars, and telling how they move, and watching when
they fall. I expect to catch one, some day."
"What shall you do then?"
"Hide it in my nest, to be sure, until I can plant the seeds, and raise
another crop."
"Hide a star in an owl's nest! Why, the stars are worlds," laughed
Minnie.
"O, that is what ignorant people say. This, that you see above your
head, is a huge tree with dark leaves, and hung all over with golden
oranges. When the stars seem to move, it is only the boughs that are
waving; when the stars seem to fall, it is ripe fruit that drops to the
earth. Let me catch one, and you'll see what a fine orange-bush I'll
grow from the seed!"
"I'd sooner fly out, in the pleasant morning sunshine, and pick up
strawberries, blueberries, checkerberries, all the nice things that grow
in the wood," said Minnie; "but, if you can't be happy without the
stars,--"
"I never can!" exclaimed the owl.
"Then I would fly up where they grow, and pick them myself from the
boughs;--not sit in a dark hole, and wait for them to fall."
But the owl--who thought no one's opinion worth much, except his
own--could not agree with her, and flew away.
Then Minnie, tired of talking so long, fell asleep once more, hoping,
with all her heart, that she should awake in her little room at home,
with Allie's rosy cheek pressed close to hers, and her mother stooping
to give them both her morning kiss.