oot rather timidly suggested that they should go see his
fine home in a certain hollow stub. Mrs. Whitefoot insisted that they
should go to her home. Whitefoot agreed on condition that she
would afterwards visit his home. So together they went back to Mrs.
Whitefoot's home. Whitefoot pretended that he liked it very much, but
in his heart he thought his own home was very much better, and he felt
quite sure that Mrs. Whitefoot would agree with him once she had seen
it.

But Mrs. Whitefoot was very well satisfied with her old home and not
at all anxious to leave it. It was in an old hollow stump close to the
ground. It was just such a place as Shadow the Weasel would be sure to
visit should he happen along that way. It didn't seem at all safe to
Whitefoot. In fact it worried him. Then, too, it was not in such a
pleasant place as was his own home. Of course he didn't say this, but
pretended to admire everything.

Two days and nights they spent there. Then Whitefoot suggested that they
should visit his home. "Of course, my dear, we will not have to live
there unless you want to, but I want you to see it," said he.

Mrs. Whitefoot didn't appear at all anxious to go. She began to make
excuses for staying right where they were. You see, she had a great love
for that old home. They were sitting just outside the doorway talking
about the matter when Whitefoot caught a glimpse of a swiftly moving
form not far off. It was Shadow the Weasel. Neither of them breathed.
Shadow passed without looking in their direction. When he was out of
sight, Mrs. Whitefoot shivered.

"Let's go over to your home right away," she whispered. "I've never seen
Shadow about here before, but now that he has been here once, he may
come again."

"We'll start at once," replied Whitefoot, and for once he was glad that
Shadow the Weasel was about.

CHAPTER XVIII: Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home

When Mrs. Mouse makes up her mind
Then Mr. Mouse best get behind.
--Whitefoot.

Whitefoot the Wood Mouse was very proud of his home. He showed it as he
led Mrs. Whitefoot there. He felt sure that she would say at once that
that would be the place for them to live. You remember that it was high
up in a tall, dead stub and had once been the home of Timmy the Flying
Squirrel.

"There, my dear, what do you think of that?" said Whitefoot proudly as
they reached the little round doorway.

Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but at once went inside. She w