Squirrel was really frightened. The window was shut!

You see, while Frisky was so busy eating butternuts, a storm was
gathering. And it grew so dark, and the wind howled so shrilly, that
Farmer Green's wife thought she had better shut the attic window, to
keep the rain from beating in.

How Frisky Squirrel did wish he had minded his mother and kept away
from old Mr. Crow! Poor Frisky looked out through the little square
panes of glass. His friend Mr. Crow was nowhere to be seen. Frisky had
hoped that the old gentleman would be waiting for him, and that since
Mr. Crow had told him how to get inside the attic he would be able to
tell him how to get out again.

The wind swept the branches of the tall tree back and forth across the
window. How easy it would have been--if the window had been open--to hop
out upon one of those swaying limbs! Frisky pressed his soft little
body close against the glass and pushed as hard as he could. But he
couldn't break out of his prison. It was a queer thing--that glass! He
could see through it just as if there was nothing there; and yet it
held him fast. Frisky could not understand it.




XVII

Farmer Green's Cat