welve
little jet-black squirrels. They were but half-grown creatures, the
offspring of different parents. They sat upon their haunches, all in a
row, with their forefeet raised as hands, holding tiny slates. Right
in front of them stood Robin, giving them a question in arithmetic to
answer.

"How many walnuts are 2 and 4 and 6?"

[Illustration: "How many walnuts are 2 and 4 and 6?"]

"Not half enough for them anyway," said a tame grey parrot, sitting on
a branch above the class.

The little squirrels shook their tails and tittered and said
"tut--tut--tut--," but the teacher looked up and gently said--

"You are not one of the class; please keep quiet, Chattie" (which was
the parrot's name).

"I am above their class anyway," replied Chattie.

"Please do not take away their attention," said the teacher patiently.

"Yes, the friskies need all their attention. It is the first rule of
getting on. It was the first thing that helped me to speak anyway."
And here Chattie stopped, believing that she had said a wise thing
(which indeed was true), and that it was prudent to stop now for fear
of offending her master.

"Put up your slates, all that have got the answer down," requested the
teacher.

Every slate went up except one. Examining them, Robin saw that four
had the correct answer, seven were wrong and one was unfinished. The
teacher commended the successful pupils, helped those that were
mistaken, and worked out the sum for the pupil that had stuck. This
took a long time, for Robin wished everyone to understand before going
further. He then made a sign to Chattie to give the signal for
dismissal of the class. Chattie did so, giving a loud shrill whistle,
ending in a long cat-like yell that filled the woods and made the
friskies and Robin laugh outright; which greatly pleased the parrot,
for she loved to talk and make a noise and be well thought of. The
signal over, the squirrels marched away to their several homes, laid
aside their slates and went out to play.

"You do not believe much in cram," said Chattie, as the pupils marched
away.

"Mother says that 'cramming makes the figures blurred and weak;
education makes them bright and strong.'"

"Ah," replied Chattie, "but laziness makes no figure at all."

Robin smiled and asked her to come home with him to tea. Chattie was
his constant companion, and she flew down upon his shoulder and rubbed
her head affectionately against his soft, ruddy cheek