as gone what
seemed a long time to Whitefoot, anxiously waiting outside. You see,
Mrs. Whitefoot is a very thorough small person, and she was examining
the inside of that house from top to bottom. At last she appeared at the
doorway.

"Don't you think this is a splendid house?" asked Whitefoot rather
timidly.

"It is very good of its kind," replied Mrs. Whitefoot.

Whitefoot's heart sank. He didn't like the tone in which Mrs. Whitefoot
had said that.

"Just what do you mean, my dear?" Whitefoot asked.

"I mean," replied Mrs. Whitefoot, in a most decided way, "that it is a
very good house for winter, but it won't do at all for summer. That
is, it won't do for me. In the first place it is so high up that if we
should have babies, I would worry all the time for fear the darlings
would have a bad fall. Besides, I don't like an inside house for summer.
I think, Whitefoot, we must look around and find a new home."

As she spoke Mrs. Whitefoot was already starting down the stub.
Whitefoot followed.

"All right, my dear, all right," said he meekly. "You know best. This
seems to me like a very fine home, but of course, if you don't like it
we'll look for another."

Mrs. Whitefoot said nothing, but led the way down the tree with
Whitefoot meekly following. Then began a patient search all about. Mrs.
Whitefoot appeared to know just what she wanted and turned up her nose
at several places Whitefoot thought would make fine homes. She hardly
glanced at a fine hollow log Whitefoot found. She merely poked her nose
in at a splendid hole beneath the roots of an old stump. Whitefoot
began to grow tired from running about and climbing stumps and trees and
bushes.

He stopped to rest and lost sight of Mrs. Whitefoot. A moment later he
heard her calling excitedly. When he found her, she was up in a small
tree, sitting on the edge of an old nest a few feet above the ground.
It was a nest that had once belonged to Melody the Wood Thrush. Mrs.
Whitefoot was sitting on the edge of it, and her bright eyes snapped
with excitement and pleasure.

"I've found it!" she cried. "I've found it! It is just what I have been
looking for."

"Found what?" Whitefoot asked. "I don't see anything but an old nest of
Melody's."

"I've found the home we've been looking for, stupid," retorted Mrs.
Whitefoot.

Still Whitefoot stared. "I don't see any house," said he.

Mrs. Whitefoot stamped her feet impatiently. "Right here, stupid," said
she. "T