However, they failed to answer Paul's question. Paul was near to tears; he stamped angrily on the ground with his foot, and cried loudly, "I demand an answer to my questions. Is there no one to give me an answer?"
Just then a Porcupine crept slowly across the road and said, "The wisest creature I know of is the Owl who lives in the great oak forest. Why don't you go to her, you question mark."
"Can't you tell me why . . .?"
The Porcupine did not permit Paul to finish; impatiently he drew in his head, shot out his quills, until he looked like a ball covered with spikes.
"I do not associate with people," he said, and his voice became as sharp as his quills. "They are too stupid for me. Go to the Owl, but be sure not to irritate her or she will gouge her eyes at you."
Night fell, sending out its black shadows, and covered all the land. It was dark in the forest and Paul became somewhat uneasy, yet this mysterious forest seemed more pleasant to him than the terrible poorhouse, and he walked on further.
The further he went the thicker and closer were the trees. Soon there was no longer a path; but Paul pushed on over the soft carpet of green moss. The fragrance of the forest was pleasant. Beneath the tall trees grew delicious strawberries and the little boy picked them and refreshed himself as he went along.
At last he came to a great oak, and saw the owl perched on one of the branchs. The Owl wore a large pair of spectacles and studied attentively a green sheet which she held in her claws.
Paul halted beneath the tree and shouted, "Mrs. Owl! Mrs. Owl!"
But the Owl was so deeply absorbed in her studies, that she did not hear, and only after he had repeated his call several times did
