"'Why, no!' she said. 'I never thought of such a thing! I let her run
away to her hole and now, every evening, I put a lump of sugar outside
the hole for her. And, every morning, when I come to the dining-room,
it's gone. But you mustn't tell father, Jens.' Jens promised that he
would not. But he went on to say that mice and rats were one and the
same kind of vermin all together and ought to be exterminated. Then the
forester came in and agreed with Jens; and nothing that his daughter
said to the contrary was of any use. The forester said that he would see
and get a regular rat-catcher out here, who would lay poison for the lot
of us. And all this is surely not my fault, but is due to that
disgusting rat, who bit Jens in the nose. It is really no joke having a
reprobate like that in the family, disgracing one's good name."

"No," said the wood-mouse, "that's what I say. And how are we to inform
the human beings of their mistake? I know no way of obtaining speech
with them. Well, good-bye, cousin, and _au revoir_."

"Good-bye, cousin, and _au revoir_ to you," said the house-mouse.

Then the one went out into the wood, to forage for the winter, and the
other into her young lady's larder.

3

Some time after, a great, big packing-case of groceries arrived at the
forester's house from Copenhagen. Here ought to be enough to last all
through the winter, the forester thought. And he belonged to the old
school, who laid in their stores once a year at a fixed time and no
other, and he had done so from the first year when he and his wife came
to live in the forester's house.

Now the packing-case was so big that the young lady and the odd man were
at their wits' end to know what to do with it. It could not go into the
house, for there was no door wide enough to admit it. It could not
remain out in the yard either, for the young lady could not unpack it
that day, as she happened to be very busy bottling plums. And, of
course, she had to be present herself: there was no question about that.
And it was beginning to look like rain. The forester said that it would
certainly rain that night. He could feel it in his left shoulder, which
was a barometer that never went wrong.

"Can't we tumble it into the barn?" said the odd man. "It can stay there
as long as need be, without hurting."

So they tumbled it into the barn. And there it stood, in a corner. It
remained there for five days. But, on the very first night, while the