ry eagerly to untie the knots.
When he had got two of the ends untied, and was at work upon the other
two, out leaped the squirrel, and ran across the room. Mary Anna,
startled by the sudden appearance of the animal, ran off to the door,
and Caleb called out in great distress, "O dear! O dear! What shall I
do? He'll get away. Shut the door, Mary Anna,--shut the door, quick!
call Raymond; call Raymond."
Mary Anna, at first, retreated outside of the door, and stood there a
moment, peeping in. Finding, however, that the squirrel remained very
quiet in a corner of the room, she returned softly, and went round, and
shut all the doors and windows, and then Caleb went and called Raymond.
The squirrel had by no means yet got over his accident, and he allowed
himself to be easily retaken and secured. Raymond contrived to fasten
him into a box, so as to keep him safe, until next morning; and by that
time they thought, if he should then seem likely to get well, they could
determine what it was best to do with him.
While Caleb was coming home, there had been a strange mixture of
delight and uneasiness in his feelings. The delight was occasioned by
the possession of the squirrel. That was obvious enough. The uneasiness
he did not think about very distinctly, and did not notice what the
cause of it was. Boys very often feel a sort of uneasiness of
mind,--they do not know exactly how or why,--and they have this feeling
mingling sometimes strangely with their very enjoyment, in their hours
of gaiety and glee. Now the real reason of this unquiet state of mind,
in Caleb's case, was that his conscience had been disturbed by his
feelings of vexation and impatience, towards Raymond, for not leaving
his work, to come and kindle his fire. He had not _yielded_ to these
feelings. He had restrained them, and had stood still, and spoken
respectfully to Raymond, all the time. In fact, he was hardly aware that
he had done any thing wrong, at all. But still, for a moment, selfish
passions had had possession of his heart, and whenever they get
possession, even if they are kept in subjection, so as not to lead to
any bad actions or words, and even if they are soon driven away by new
thoughts, as Caleb's were, by the sight of his blazing fire,--still,
they always leave more or less of misery behind.
So Caleb, as he was going home, had his heart filled with delight at the
thoughts of the squirrel resting warmly in his lap; and he was also a
pr
|