“That is very kind of you,” said Mamma Bushytail.  “The poor little fellow is quite miserable.  I put his feet in hot mustard water, and gave him some Jamaica ginger, and he is now in bed.  I fear he has the epizootic, which is a very dreadful disease.”

“Oh, I hope not!” exclaimed Alice, kindly.  “Perhaps he only has the pip, which is not nearly so bad.”

“Perhaps,” answered Mamma Bushytail.  “I have sent Johnnie for some quinine, and that may help Billie.”

“May we see him?” asked Lulu.  “Perhaps we can cheer him up.”

“To be sure, you may see him,” replied Billie’s mamma; so she opened the door a little wider in order that the ducklings might look in the hollow-stumphouse, for of course they could not enter, as it was too small.  They saw Billie, all wrapped up in blankets, in bed, and he looked quite ill.  But he seemed happy in spite of that, for the hot mustard footbath had helped him some.  He smiled when he saw Jimmie and Lulu and Alice.  Then Jimmie gave Mrs. Bushytail some nice acorns he had picked up in the woods and had carried under his wing.

“They are for Billie,” said Jimmie.  Next Lulu gave the sick squirrel-boy some nice, sweet grass she had gathered on the edge of the pond, and Alice had some lovely sugared sweet-flag root, which is very good in case of sickness.  Then Billie felt much better, and after a while Jimmie said:  “Let’s sing a funny little song for Billie.”  So Jimmie, Alice and Lulu sang this little verse to cheer up poor, sick Billie, and, if you can get a good singer to sing it for you, it doesn’t sound at all bad, I assure you: 

    Don’t mind if you have to take stuff from a spoon,
    ’Tis better than having to climb to the moon. 
    You might make a stumble or else have a tumble,
    And then you would fall pretty soon.

    We came, little Billie, to make you feel better. 
    At first we were going to write you a letter;
    But we had no ink, dear, so that’s why we came here. 
    We’re dry now, but we’ll soon be wetter.

Then Billie laughed right out loud, he felt so much better, and he ate some acorns and the sweet-flag root, nibbling at it with his sharp teeth.  Then a scratching sound was heard on the stump, and who should come up it but Sister Sallie, with Dr. Possum.

The doctor said “He!” and he said “Hum!” and he said “Ahem!” Then he felt Billie’s pulse and made him put out his tongue.  Then Dr. Possum exclaimed:  “Why, this little squirrel isn’t sick at all!  No, sir!  Not at all.  My goodness me; no, indeed!  Why, the very idea!  Sick?  I guess not!”

But Mrs. Bushytail said her little boy had been very ill, and Dr. Possum answered: 

“Well, if he was sick, these little ducks have cured him.  They are just as good at doctoring as I am; yes, indeed; and a thermometer or two besides.  There is no need for me.”