f meal and water stirred up together. He threw out some of this upon
the ground within the yard, and the hen, calling the chickens to the
place, scattered the pudding about with her bill for the chickens to
eat.

The boys then wished to have Mrs. Henry go to the shop. She,
accordingly, went with them. They opened the shop-door very carefully
to keep Frink from getting out. When they were all safely in and the
door was shut, they began to look about the room to find the squirrel.
"There he is," said Phonny, pointing to the beam over the
shutter-window.

So saying he went to the place, and putting up his hand, took the
squirrel and brought him to his mother.

"Why, how tame he is!" said Mrs. Henry.

"Yes," said Phonny, "Stuyvesant and I tamed him. He runs all about the
shop. And we have got a house for him to sleep in. Come and see his
house."

So saying, Phonny led his mother and Malleville to the back side of
the shop, where, upon a shelf, there stood a small box, with a hole in
the side of it, much like the one which had been made for the hen,
only not so large.

"He goes in there to sleep," said Phonny. "We always feed him in
there too, so as to make him like the place."

As Phonny said this, he put the squirrel down upon the beam before the
door of his house.

"Now you will see him go in," said he.

Frink crept into his hole, and then turning round within the box, he
put his head out a little way, and after looking at Mrs. Henry a
moment with one eye, he winked in a very cunning manner.

There was a small paper tacked up with little nails on the side of the
squirrel's house, near the door.

"What is this?" said Mrs. Henry.

"Oh! that's his poetry," said Phonny, "you must read it."

So Mrs. Henry, standing up near, read aloud as follows:--

My name is Frink,
And unless you think,
To give me plenty to eat and drink,
You'll find me running away
Some day;
I shall tip you a wink,
Then slyly slink,
Out through some secret cranny or chink,
And hie for the woods, away,
Away.

Mrs. Henry laughed heartily at this production. She asked who wrote
it.

"Why, we found it here one morning," said Phonny. "Stuyvesant says
that he thinks Beechnut wrote it."

"But Beechnut," added Malleville, "says that he believes that Frink
wrote it himself."

"Oh no," said Stuyvesant, "he did not say exactly tha