“It was the same way with old Mr. Coon.  He was dishonest and stole from Old King Bear.  Old Mother Nature punished him by putting mustard in his food, and Mr. Coon thought he was so smart that he could get ahead of Old Mother Nature by washing all his food before he ate it.  Old Mother Nature didn’t say anything, but watched him and smiled to herself.  You see, she knew that Mr. Coon was beginning a good habit, a very good habit indeed—­the habit of neatness.  So, though she knew perfectly well that he was doing it just to get ahead of her, she was glad, for she was fond of Mr. Coon in spite of the bad ways he had grown into, and she knew that good habits are like bad habits—­once started they grow and grow, and are very likely to lead to more good habits.

“It was so with Mr. Coon.  He found that his food tasted better for being so clean, and he grew very fussy about what he ate.  No matter where he found it or how tempting it looked, he wouldn’t eat it until he had carried it to the nearest water and washed it.  He still remembered the mustard and tried to fool himself into thinking that he was simply spiting Old Mother Nature, but right down in his heart he knew that even if he should be told that never again would there be mustard in his food, he would wash it just the same.

“One day, as he sat beside the Laughing Brook eating his supper, he noticed that while his food had been washed clean, his hands were dirty.  They spoiled his supper.  Yes, Sir, they spoiled his supper.

“’What good does it do to wash my food, if I eat it out of dirty hands?’ said Mr. Coon to himself, and he hurried to a quiet little pool to give them a good scrubbing.  Then he washed his face and brushed his coat.  ’Now I feel better, and I know my supper will taste better,’ said he.

“From that time he began to be particular, very particular, about keeping himself clean, until finally there was no one on the Green Meadows or in the Green Forest quite so neat as Mr. Coon.

“Now at this time Mr. Coon had a very plain tail.  It was all of one color, a grayish white, not at all pretty.  Mr. Coon used to think a great deal about that tail and wish and wish that it was handsome.  Sometimes he used to envy Mr. Fox his beautiful red tail with its black and white tip.  One day, as he sat on an old log with his chin in his hands, thinking about his tail, who should come along but Old Mother Nature.

“‘Good morning, Mr. Coon,’ said she in her pleasantest voice.

“Mr. Coon got up and made a very low bow.  ’Good morning, Mother Nature,’ he replied in his politest manner, which was very polite indeed.

“‘What were you thinking about so hard?’ asked Old Mother Nature.

“Mr. Coon looked a little bit ashamed.  Then he sighed.  ’I was wishing that my tail was handsomer,’ said he.  ’But it is a very good tail as it is,’ he added hastily.

“Old Mother Nature’s eyes twinkled.  She sat down beside Mr. Coon and asked him all about his affairs, just as if she didn’t know all about them already.  She told him how pleased she was to find him so neat and clean, and Mr. Coon just tingled all over with pleasure.  At last she got up to go, and her eyes twinkled more than ever, as she said: