This nest was made of leaves, moss, grass, little twigs, hair, feathers, little scraps of wool which the sheep had thoughtfully left on the brambles—­anything, in fact, that was soft, and comfortable, and warm.  It was woven so carefully that neither rain nor snow could get into it, and was so firmly wedged in its place that no wind could blow it away.  Therefore, when they had all taken a little exercise, had a good meal, and trotted home again, they nestled down in their warm, cozy home, and were just as happy as they could be.

But when Christmas was over and January had come and gone, the young squirrels got restless and tiresome, and began to behave very badly—­ so badly that sometimes they did not come home for a couple of nights and days, and at last they went away altogether.

But the parent squirrels did not seem to mind it, and it was rather a relief to be quiet and peaceable, and not have so much noise and quarreling, and as Mother Earth was beginning to look green again, Sentre and Siccatee felt very happy and were scarcely ever apart.

They began to find mice, young birds and insects again, and very glad they were, for they were tired of dried roots and odd scraps.

All that spring they were very busy, as usual, for squirrels always seem to be busy, no matter what time of the year it may be.  They are busy in the spring getting ready for the little baby squirrels; busy all the summer attending to them and feeding them; busy all the autumn collecting their winter stores, and busy all the winter finding their food and teaching their children the manners and customs of squirreldom.

As the spring went on the two squirrels grew more busy, if possible, than ever, and by the beginning of summer, in the old nest which they had done up and renovated, were four, tiny baby squirrels, and both Sentre and Siccatee were fully convinced that they were finer babies than they had ever had before.  They both took the greatest care of them all through that summer, and when autumn came round once more began the same thing over again—­collecting food for the winter and teaching their little ones how to eat eggs and nuts; how to climb trees, and leap from bough to bough, and how to drop in time of danger on their outspread little feet and bushy tails, and so save themselves from injury.

And, curiously enough, one day Siccatee came across the same Horrible Humans that had caused her so much trouble the year before.  They were both a little taller and broader, but that they were the same there could be no doubt.  Siccatee found out that they came to the house at the foot of the hill every year, and very sorry she was, for it was only last year that they had spoiled one of her best storehouses.

This year something far more terrible happened.  Of all her four children, Siccatee loved best of all little Graycoat, who was certainly a very beautiful baby squirrel.  He was so soft and fluffy; had such a beautiful, silvery gray tail; such pretty, delicate feet and limbs, and neat, small head, with bright little eyes that were never still for a single moment.