they thought the whole
thing was nothing but a joke. And when the full moon climbed over the
top of Blue Mountain, and Peter Mink climbed on top of an old stump and
faced the gathering, a few rude persons laughed aloud.

"What about ducks?" somebody called from a tree above Peter's head.
Everybody tittered at that, because everybody knew that Peter was very
fond of ducks and spent much of his time at Farmer Green's duck pond.

It was old Mr. Crow who asked that question. He had come to the lecture,
in spite of what he had said.

"My lecture," Peter Mink began, when all was quiet, "my lecture to-night
is going to be about a poor boy who has no one to take care of him. He
has no home. And very often he goes about in rags. Sometimes he begs for
food and clothes. I think," Peter said, "we all ought to be very sorry
for him."

As soon as Peter said that, Mrs. Squirrel and Mrs. Woodchuck took out
their pocket-handkerchiefs and wiped their eyes. And Mrs. Squirrel's
husband was heard to remark that it was a shame, and that he thought
something ought to be done.

Well, Peter Mink went on and told them as many as twenty-three different
tales about that poor boy, to show them what a hard life he led. Every
tale was sadder than the one just before it. And by the time Peter had
finished the twenty-third, there were very few dry eyes in the place.
And Mr. Squirrel spoke up loudly and said once more that _something_
ought to be done about it.

When he said that, Uncle Jerry Chuck rose hurriedly and hobbled away
from the lecture. He had sat in one of the best seats, because it was
free. And he had wept quite noisily, once or twice, because it cost no
more to weep and he wanted all he could get for nothing. But when Mr.
Squirrel said what he did, Uncle Jerry at once thought of a
_collection_. And he decided that he had better leave before it was too
late.

Peter Mink saw him go. And here and there he noticed other people who
looked as if they would like to leave, too. And he knew that there was
no time to lose.

"I see one gentleman leaving," Peter Mink said in a loud voice. "I hope
no more will go--unless, of course, they're so stingy that they wouldn't
care to give a little something to help this poor boy I've been telling
you about."

After that, nobody wanted to leave, because nobody wanted to be thought
stingy.

"I appoint Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Woodchuck to take up a _collection_ for
this poor boy," Peter Mink said. "And