ck, but it was not suited with it, for in
January it woke up and made itself a neat little blanket from the wool
which it nibbled from the sock. In this it rolled itself and went to
sleep again. A week or two later I was at the school, and the teacher
showed me her sleeping mouse. It was rolled up in a ball, with its tail
wrapped about its head. I held it in the palm of my hand. It seemed
almost as cold as a dead mouse, and I could not see it breathe. It was
carefully put back in its blanket.

Not long after this, a small house-mouse was put in the box with it. "It
was the tiniest little mouse," says Miss Burt, "you ever saw. It cuddled
in with the hibernator, who got up at once and took care of this baby.
The baby struck out independently and burrowed in the sand, and stole
some of the wool and feathers from hibernator to line his own nest. But
the jumping mouse went in with him, enlarged the nest, and cuddled down
to him. They were great friends. But the baby smelled dreadfully, as all
house-mice do, and I took him out. Then the hibernator curled up again
and went into winter quarters.

"When the warm weather came on, she uncurled and ate and drank. She
preferred pecan nuts and shredded-wheat biscuit, and ate corn. I tried
to tame her. I took a strong feather and played with her. At first she
resisted and was frightened, but after a while she 'stood it,' and would
even eat and clean herself while I scratched her with this feather. But
she was always terribly frightened, when coming out of her day's sleep,
if I began to play with her. After being thoroughly waked up, she did
not mind it. She would let me smooth her with my finger, and she would
smell of my finger and go on eating, keeping an eye out. Three times she
had a perfect fit of fright, lying on her back, and kicking and
trembling violently. On these occasions she made a scuttling noise or
cry, and I thought each time she would die, so I grew more and more
cautious about meddling with her. There was one interesting thing about
it,--she rose from these fits and ate heartily, and cleaned herself
with great unconcern. I was tempted to believe that she shammed dying.

"The most interesting thing I ever saw her do was to climb up on her
glass of water, sit on the rim, and put both little paws down and scoop
up a big double-handful of water and wash her face and head. She made
her face very wet, just like a person washing his face. She ate
sunflower seeds, and ofte