"Depend upon it, my dear," said Mrs. Nutcracker solemnly, "that
fellow must be a genius."

"Fiddlestick on his genius!" said old Mr. Nutcracker; "what does he
DO?"

"Oh, nothing, of course; that's one of the first marks of genius.
Geniuses, you know, never can come down to common life."

"He eats enough for any two," remarked old Nutcracker, "and he never
helps to gather nuts."

"My dear, ask Parson Too-whit. He has conversed with him, and quite
agrees with me that he says very uncommon things for a squirrel of
his age; he has such fine feelings,--so much above those of the
common crowd."

"Fine feelings be hanged!" said old Nutcracker. "When a fellow eats
all the nuts that his mother gives him, and then grumbles at her, I
don't believe much in his fine feelings. Why don't he set himself
about something? I'm going to tell my fine young gentleman that, if
he doesn't behave himself, I'll tumble him out of the nest, neck and
crop, and see if hunger won't do something towards bringing down his
fine airs."

But then Mrs. Nutcracker fell on her husband's neck with both paws,
and wept, and besought him so piteously to have patience with her
darling, that old Nutcracker, who was himself a soft-hearted old
squirrel, was prevailed upon to put up with the airs and graces of