But directly, from a distant orchard, came back the cheerful song of the squirrel family:
"Chitter, chitter, chee, up in a tree,
Chitter, chitter, chee, wild and free,
Chitter, chitter, chee, come with me."
Chitter, chitter, chee, wild and free,
Chitter, chitter, chee, come with me."
And the song was so full of joy and gladness, that Frisky was glad that he had turned the button, although he half expected a licking for it.
That evening, when I went to feed Gray-brush, I found his cage door wide open, and the little fellow gone.
"Where is Gray-brush?" I asked of Frisky, who was looking mournfully into the cage. And he looked so guilty that I was sure he had let him out, but he fell to licking my feet so affectionately that I forgave him.
"It's no matter," I said; "his home is in the woods, and there he should be."
