I can see yet the look of pained surprise
And deep compassion of her troubled face
When father very gently laid his coat,
With the young foxes in it, on the hearth
Beside her, as she brightened up the fire.
She urged--for the old fox's sake and theirs--
That they be taken back to the old tree;
But father--for _our_ wistful sakes, no doubt--
Said we would keep them, and would try our best
To raise them. And at once he set about
Building a snug home for the little things
Out of an old big bushel-basket, with
Its fractured handle and its stoven ribs:
So, lining and padding this all cosily,
He snuggled in its little tenants, and
Called in John Wesley Thomas, our hired man,
And gave him in full charge, with much advice
Regarding the just care and sustenance of
_Young_ foxes.--"John," he said, "you feed 'em _milk_--
_Warm_ milk, John Wesley! Yes, and _keep 'em by_
_The stove_--and keep your stove _a-roarin'_, too,
Both night and day!--And keep 'em _covered_ up--
Not _smothered_, John, but snug and comfortable.--

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[Illustration: "THE YOUNG FOXES IN IT, ON THE HEARTH BESIDE HER."]

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