The Tale of Dickie Deer Mouse | Page 4

reply to such rude speeches. Besides, he expected to make a good many changes in the old nest before the place was exactly what he wanted.
"I don't understand," he said aloud to nobody in particular, "why most birds don't know how a house should be built. Of all the birds in Pleasant Valley the only good nest-builder I know is Long Bill Wren. He must be a very sensible fellow, because he puts a roof on his house."
Now, Dickie Deer Mouse may--or may not--have known that some of his bird neighbors were near at hand, watching him. Certainly they must have heard what he said, for they began to scold at the top of their voices. And one rude listener named Jasper Jay screamed with fine scorn:
"What do you know about building a nest?" And then he laughed harshly.
But Dickie Deer Mouse only looked very wise and said nothing.
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V
DICKIE'S SUMMER HOME
Dickie Deer Mouse was busier than ever. When he wasn't looking for food--and eating it when he had found it--he gathered cat-tail down in Cedar Swamp.
If there was one thing that he liked in a house it was a soft bed. And he knew that if the weather happened to be chilly now and then, he could snuggle into the cat-tail down and sleep as comfortably as he pleased.
The swamp was none too near his new home; and he might have found moss or shreds of bark near-by that would have served his purpose. But he would rather have cat-tail down, even though he had to make a good many trips back and forth before he finally lined the old bird's nest to his liking.
Then, having finished his bed, he had to make a roof over it. So he covered the top of his house with moss, leaving a hole right under the eaves, for a doorway.
When Dickie's home was done he was so pleased with it that he asked all his neighbors if they didn't like his "improvements," as he called the additions he had made. And all his Deer Mouse relations told him that he certainly had a fine place.
But none of the birds cared for it at all, except Long Bill Wren; and even he remarked that the house would be better "if it was rounder."
As for Jasper Jay, he told Dickie Deer Mouse that, in his opinion, the house was ruined.
"It's nothing but a trap," he declared. "And I'd hate to go to sleep inside it."
His views, however, did not trouble Dickie Deer Mouse in the least. The place suited him. And he was so happy in it that sometimes when the weather was bad and he wasn't whisking about in the trees, or scurrying around on the ground, he would stay inside his cozy home, with only his head sticking out through the doorway, while his big, bright, bulging, black eyes took in everything that happened in his dooryard.
Dickie Deer Mouse knew that one needed sharp eyes to spy him when he was peeping from his house in that fashion. And often when somebody of whom he was really afraid came wandering through the woods, Dickie would keep quite still, while he watched the newcomer without being seen.
But with some of the wood folk he took no chances. Whenever he heard Solomon Owl's rolling call, or his cousin Simon Screecher's quavering whistle, Dickie Deer Mouse always pulled his head inside his house in a hurry.
For they were usually on the lookout for him. And he knew it.
Of course, if they had been aware that Dickie Deer Mouse was hidden inside his rebuilt, last year's bird's nest, either of them, with his sharp claws, could easily have torn the moss roof off Dickie's home. But luckily for Dickie, there were some things that they didn't know.
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VI
A WARNING
If old Mr. Crow had minded his own affairs everything would have gone well with Dickie Deer Mouse, after he moved into his new home. But Mr. Crow could not forget the time when Dickie had awakened him out of a sound sleep and frightened him almost out of his mind.
So whenever he caught sight of Dickie the old gentleman was sure to drop down upon the ground and ask him in a loud voice whose house he had prowled into lately.
"Nobody's!" Dickie Deer Mouse always told him. And then he would assure Mr. Crow that he was very sorry to have disturbed his rest.
It was quite like Mr. Crow, on such occasions, to act grumpy.
"I haven't had a good night's sleep since you broke into my house," he declared to Dickie one day.
"Perhaps you're over-eating," Dickie suggested politely.
Old Mr. Crow did not appear to like that remark.
"Nothing of the sort!" he bawled. "I don't eat enough to keep a mosquito alive."
"I often see you in the cornfield," Dickie Deer