as he likes. Have you seen him in full uniform
yet?"

"No," they replied, "unless his feathers are his uniform."

"Well, he's too proud of his office to be satisfied with feathers, I
can tell you. When some folks get a little authority they want all the
world to know about it, and a bold uniform covers many a faint heart.
But as I'm your nearest neighbor I'll introduce myself. My name's
Wisk."

"My name is Twinkle."

"And mine's Chubbins."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said the squirrel, nodding. "I
live in the second flat."

"How's that?" asked the boy.

"Why, the second hollow, you know. There's a 'possum living in the
hollow down below, who is carrying four babies around in her pocket;
and Mrs. Hootaway, the gray owl, lives in the hollow above--the one you
can see far over your heads. So I'm the second flat tenant."

"I see," said Twinkle.

"Early in the morning the 'possum comes growling home to go to bed;
late at night the owl hoots and keeps folks awake; but I'm very quiet
and well behaved, and you'll find me a good neighbor," continued Wisk.

"I'm sure of that," said Chubbins.

As if to prove his friendship the squirrel now darted out of the hollow
and sat upon a limb beside the children, holding his bushy tail
straight up so that it stood above his head like a big plume in a
soldier's helmet.

"Are you hungry?" asked the girl.

"Not very. I cannot get much food until the nuts are ripe, you know,
and my last winter's supply was gone long ago. But I manage to find
some bits to eat, here and there."

"Do you like cookies?" she asked.

"I really do not know," answered Wisk. "Where do they grow?"

"In baskets. I'll get you a piece, and you can try it." So Twinkle flew
up and crept into her basket again, quickly returning with a bit of
cookie in her claw. It was not much more than a crumb, but nevertheless
it was all that she could carry.

The squirrel seized the morsel in his paws, examined it gravely, and
then took a nibble. An instant later it was gone.

"That is very good, indeed!" he declared. "Where do these baskets of
cookies grow?"

"They don't grow anywhere," replied Twinkle, with a laugh. "The baskets
come from the grocery store, and my mama makes the cookies."

"Oh; they're human food, then."

"Yes; would you like some more?"

"Not just now," said Wisk. "I don't want to rob you, and it is foolish
to eat more than one needs, just because the food tastes good. But if I
g