reached home, and the parrot and cockatoo, on the strength of being able
to screech and say a few words, soon found owners, but the squirrel,
being shabby-looking, hung on hand, or rather outside the little shop,
in a canary's cage, to which it had been promoted after its own
revolving wire home had been sold, the purchaser declining to buy the
squirrel because he was so shabby.

The poor little brute did not improve afterwards, for he rubbed the hair
off his face by constantly trying to get through either the seed or
water hole, and every time he--for the sake of exercise--whisked round
the cage, it was to the disadvantage of his tail, which daily grew more
and more like that of Dexter's rat.

This little unfortunate might have been bought for a shilling by such a
boy as Bob Dimsted, but the superfine broadcloth of Dexter's jacket and
trousers sent it up to five, and pocket-money had to be saved for weeks
before it finally came into the boy's possession, to be watched with the
greatest attention to see if its hair would grow.

The squirrel's nose was thrust between the bars of the old wire
rat-trap, and when this was not the case, the active little animal
performed a kind of evolution suggestive of its trying to make the
letters SS in its prison, as skaters contrive them upon the ice, till
the wire door was open, and with one bound it was upon its owner's
shoulder, then up in the rafters, along one beam and down another, till
the first wild excitement of freedom was over, when it dropped upon the
floor, and began to forage for food.

Dexter was so truly happy among his little subjects that he sat down
upon the edge of an old box, forgetful of other claimants while he
attended to the wants of these, calling them by endearing names, giving
the rabbits oats from his pockets, a handful of which grain came now and
then from Peter.

The boy had intuitively discovered the way to tame his various pets.
Fear will accomplish a great deal with dumb animals, but the real secret
of winning their confidence is quietness, the art of never alarming
them, but by perfectly passive behaviour, and the most gentle of
movements, accustom the timid creatures to our presence. The rest was
merely habituating them to the fact that their owner was the sole source
from which food was to be obtained.

No one told Dexter all this; he learned it in his solitary communings
with the animal world. For somehow it seems to be the law of nature