ing had happened.

"Those tails were no manner of account, but just in the way, and some of
my folks thought it would be almost better if they didn't have them at
all, but just a funny bunch of cotton, or something, like Mr. Rabbit's."

When Mr. 'Possum said that, Mr. Rabbit sat up quite straight, and was
just about to say something, but Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Squirrel motioned to
him and said "'Sh!" and Mr. 'Possum didn't notice anything had happened.

"You see," he went right on, "every little while it happened that one of
my ancestors would start up the tree not quite soon enough, and Mr.
Painter would just manage to get his claws in that bushy ornament, which
would settle it for that ancestor, right away. Of course, my family were
proud of those big, plumy things, people being generally proud of their
most useless property, something they would be better off, and live
longer, without. My folks thought those great tails were handsome,
especially our young people, who would walk about waving them and
practise carrying them in new positions, and about once a week would do
up the long, thick fur on them in little knots, tied with tough, twisted
grass, which would make the hair curl and look very showy indeed. Even
some of my ancestors who happened to get old acted in that foolish way,
and when the fur got thin would wear some kind of false stuff, though
any one but a blind person could always tell it.

[Illustration: "ONE DAY A NEW AND VERY HANDSOME MR. 'POSSUM CAME INTO
THE NEIGHBORHOOD"]

"Well, one day a new and very handsome Mr. 'Possum came into the
neighborhood, from some place nobody had ever heard of before, and none
of our folks had ever seen anything like him. He was stouter than our
breed and lighter colored, and had a very long, bushy tail that curved
in a peculiar way and stayed beautifully curled, without ever being put
up in grass at all. He said so, and my ancestors watched him, to prove
it.

"That young man called himself Somers, and he certainly became popular
with the young Miss 'Possums of our section. They went crazy over him,
and of course that made all the young Mr. 'Possums jealous of him,
though they would have given anything to be like him. They knew they
couldn't be that, so they hoped something would happen to him, and used
to tell him of nice new and interesting walks to take when they
thought Mr. Painter might be in that neighborhood. Then they would
follow, and hide around in the bushes a