It was about like this:  A lady squirrel had been captured in the hazelbrush that grew on the shores of Vomb Lake, and was carried to a farmhouse close by.  All the folks on the farm—­both young and old—­were delighted with the pretty creature with the bushy tail, the wise, inquisitive eyes, and the natty little feet.  They intended to amuse themselves all summer by watching its nimble movements; its ingenious way of shelling nuts; and its droll play.  They immediately put in order an old squirrel cage with a little green house and a wire-cylinder wheel.  The little house, which had both doors and windows, the lady squirrel was to use as a dining room and bedroom.  For this reason they placed therein a bed of leaves, a bowl of milk and some nuts.  The cylinder wheel, on the other hand, she was to use as a play-house, where she could run and climb and swing round.

The people believed that they had arranged things very comfortably for the lady squirrel, and they were astonished because she didn’t seem to be contented; but, instead, she sat there, downcast and moody, in a corner of her room.  Every now and again, she would let out a shrill, agonised cry.  She did not touch the food; and not once did she swing round on the wheel.  “It’s probably because she’s frightened,” said the farmer folk.  “To-morrow, when she feels more at home, she will both eat and play.”

Meanwhile, the women folk on the farm were making preparations for a feast; and just on that day when the lady squirrel had been captured, they were busy with an elaborate bake.  They had had bad luck with something:  either the dough wouldn’t rise, or else they had been dilatory, for they were obliged to work long after dark.

Naturally there was a great deal of excitement and bustle in the kitchen, and probably no one there took time to think about the squirrel, or to wonder how she was getting on.  But there was an old grandma in the house who was too aged to take a hand in the baking; this she herself understood, but just the same she did not relish the idea of being left out of the game.  She felt rather downhearted; and for this reason she did not go to bed but seated herself by the sitting-room window and looked out.

They had opened the kitchen door on account of the heat; and through it a clear ray of light streamed out on the yard; and it became so well lighted out there that the old woman could see all the cracks and holes in the plastering on the wall opposite.  She also saw the squirrel cage which hung just where the light fell clearest.  And she noticed how the squirrel ran from her room to the wheel, and from the wheel to her room, all night long, without stopping an instant.  She thought it was a strange sort of unrest that had come over the animal; but she believed, of course, that the strong light kept her awake.