Whitefoot didn't go out that night at all. It was a moonlight night
and just the kind of a night to be out. Instead Whitefoot lay in
his little bed and shivered and shook, for all through that long
night every once in a while Hooty the Owl would hoot from the top of
that stub.
CHAPTER XXIV: Whitefoot The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy
Unhappiness without a cause you never, never find;
It may be in the stomach, or it may be in the mind.
- Whitefoot.
Whitefoot the Wood Mouse should have been happy, but he wasn't.
Winter had gone and sweet Mistress Spring had brought joy to all the
Green Forest. Every one was happy, Whitefoot no less so than his
neighbors at first. Up from the Sunny South came the feathered
friends and at once began planning new homes. Twitterings and songs
filled the air. Joy was everywhere. Food became plentiful, and
Whitefoot became sleek and fat. That is, he became as fat as a
lively Wood Mouse ever does become. None of his enemies had
discovered his new home, and he had little to worry about.
But by and by Whitefoot began to feel less joyous.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77