Forest. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight." They were
all there. Mrs. Possum looked at them with a great deal of pride and
sighed as she thought of how soon they would be leaving the old hollow
tree to see the great world and make homes for themselves. Just as
soon as the beautiful spring came, they would one by one slip away.
Mrs. Possum sighed again. She didn't like winter. No, Sir, she didn't
like winter one bit. But when she thought of how her babies would
leave her, she almost wished that spring never would come.

Sure that her babies were warm and comfortable, old Mrs. Possum went
to the door and looked out. It was plain to be seen that Mrs. Possum
was worried. That was the tenth time she had looked out in half an
hour. Her sharp little old face looked sharper than ever. It always
looks sharper when she is worried, just as the tongues of some people
always grow sharper when they are worried.

"Ah don' see what can be keepin' mah ol' man! Ah'm plumb worried to
death," muttered old Mrs. Possum.

Right that very minute she heard a noise outside that made her hurry
to the door and thrust her head out once more. It was Sammy Jay,
shrieking:

"Thief! Thief! Thief!" at the top of his lungs.

"He's a thief himself and just a low-down mischief-maker, for all his
smart clo'es, but he knows a powerful lot about what is going on in
the Green Forest, and perhaps he has seen mah ol' man," said old Mrs.
Possum, as she tried to make her sharp face as pleasant as possible.
She looked over at Sammy Jay, who was in the next tree, and smiled,