ven more lonely than he had been
then. And added to this loneliness was that hurt feeling, which made it
ever and ever so much worse. It was very hard to bear.

"If I could understand it, it wouldn't be so bad," he kept saying
over and over again to himself, "but I don't understand it. I don't
understand why Mrs. Whitefoot doesn't love me any more."

CHAPTER XXXII: The Surprise

Surprises sometimes are so great
You're tempted to believe in fate.
--Whitefoot.

One never-to-be forgotten evening Whitefoot met Mrs. Whitefoot and
she invited him to come back to their home. Of course Whitefoot was
delighted.

"Sh-h-h," said little Mrs. Whitefoot, as Whitefoot entered the snug
little room of the house they had built in the old nest of Melody the
Wood Thrush. Whitefoot hesitated. In the first place, it was dark in
there. In the second place, he had the feeling that somehow that little
bedroom seemed crowded. It hadn't been that way the last time he was
there. Mrs. Whitefoot was right in front of him, and she seemed very
much excited about something.

Presently she crowded to one side. "Come here and look," said she.

Whitefoot looked. In the middle of a soft bed of moss was a squirming
mass of legs and funny little heads. At first that was all Whitefoot
could make out.

"Don't you think this is the most wonderful surprise that ever was?"
whispered little Mrs. Whitefoot. "Aren't they darlings? Aren't you proud
of them?"

By this time Whitefoot had made out that that squirming mass of legs
and heads was composed of baby Mice. He counted them. There were four.
"Whose are they, and what are they doing here?" Whitefoot asked in a
queer voice.

"Why, you old stupid, they are yours,--yours and mine," declared little
Mrs. Whitefoot. "Did you ever, ever see such beautiful babies? Now I
guess you understand why I kept you away from here."

Whitefoot shook his head. "No," said he, "I don't understand at all. I
don't see yet what you drove me away for."

"Why, you blessed old dear, there wasn't room for you when those babies
came; I had to have all the room there was. It wouldn't have done to
have had you running in and out and disturbing them when they were so
tiny. I had to be alone with them, and that is why I made you go off and
live by yourself. I am so proud of them, I don't know what to do. Aren't
you proud, Whitefoot? Aren't you the proudest Wood Mouse in all the
Green Forest?"

Of course Whitefoot