But there is no doubt that whatever it was,
it could not have been very pleasant for Mr. Frog.

Just as he had planned, Solomon Owl returned to the brook the next day.
And he was both surprised and disappointed at what he found.

The door of Mr. Frog's tailor's shop was shut and locked. And on it there
was a sign, which said:

TO LET

"He's moved away!" cried Solomon Owl. And he went off feeling that he had
been cheated out of a good dinner--to say nothing of a new waistcoat--and
new trousers, too.

He had not been gone long when the door opened. And Mr. Frog leaped nimbly
outside. He took the sign off the door; and sitting down cross-legged upon
the bank, he began to sew upon Jasper Jay's new blue suit, while his face
wore a wider smile than ever.

He had suddenly decided not to let his shop, after all.

VI
SOLOMON NEEDS A CHANGE

For some time Solomon Owl had known that a queer feeling was coming over
him. And he could not think what it meant. He noticed, too, that his
appetite was leaving him. Nothing seemed to taste good any more.

So at last, one fine fall evening he went to see Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who
was an herb doctor; for he had begun to worry about his health.

"It's lucky you came to-day," said Aunt Polly. "Because to-night I'm going
to begin my winter's nap. And you couldn't have seen me again till
spring--unless you happened to come here on ground-hog day, next
February.... What appears to be your trouble?" she inquired.

"It's my appetite, partly," Solomon Owl said. "Nothing tastes as it did
when I was a youngster. And I keep longing for something, though what it
is I can't just tell."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck nodded her head wisely.

"What have you been eating lately?" she asked.

Solomon Owl replied that he hadn't eaten anything but mice since the
leaves began to turn.

"H-m--the leaves are nearly all off the trees now," the old lady remarked.
"How many mice have you eaten in that time?"

Solomon said that as nearly as he could remember he had eaten
twenty-seven--or a hundred and twenty-seven. He couldn't say which--but one
of those numbers was correct.

Aunt Polly Woodchuck threw up her hands.

"Sakes alive!" she cried. "It's no wonder you don't feel well! What you
need is a change of food. And it's lucky you came to me now. If you'd gone
on like that much longer I'd hate to say what might have happened to you.
You'd have had dyspepsia, or some other sort of misery in yo