"This home is quite as much my home as it
is yours. You have no right to keep me out of it. Just you get out
of my way."
But little Mrs. Whitefoot didn't get out of his way, and do what
he would, Whitefoot couldn't get in. You see she quite filled that
little round doorway. Finally, he had to give up trying. Three times
he came back and each time he found little Mrs. Whitefoot in the
doorway. And each time she drove him away. Finally, for lack of
any other place to go to, he returned to his old home in the old
stub. Once he had thought this the finest home possible, but now
somehow it didn't suit him at all. The truth is he missed little
Mrs. Whitefoot, and so what had once been a home was now only a
place in which to hide and sleep.
Whitefoot's anger did not last long. It was replaced by that
hurt feeling. He felt that he must have done something little
Mrs. Whitefoot did not like, but though he thought and thought he
couldn't remember a single thing. Several times he went back to see
if Mrs. Whitefoot felt any differently, but found she didn't.
Finally she told him rather sharply to go away and stay away.
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