"That's just it!" grumbled Mr. Bushy. "I only wish they would just keep
to themselves and on the ground where they belong, but they have the
impudence to come lumbering up here into our tree."

"Oh, well," replied his partner, calmly, "you must acknowledge they do
not disturb our nest."

"And a good thing for them, too," chattered Mr. Bushy, fiercely,
smoothing out his whiskers and showing his sharp front teeth, at which
Mrs. Bushy smiled gently behind her tail.

"But what are they doing now?" she inquired.

"Oh, they are going off into the woods," said Mr. Bushy, who had
issued from his hole and was sitting up on a convenient crotch. "And I
declare!" he said, in amazed tones, "they haven't thrown one snowball at
me. Something must be badly wrong with them. Wonder what it is? This is
quite unprecedented."

At this Mrs. Bushy ventured carefully out to observe the extraordinary
phenomenon, for the boys were actually making their way to the gate, the
smaller ones with much noisy shouting, but the big boys soberly enough
engaged in earnest conversation. It was their first day of the new
master, and such a day as quite "flabbergastrated," as Don Cameron said,
even the oldest of them. But of course Mr. and Mrs. Bushy knew nothing
of this, and could only marvel.

"Murdie," cried Hughie to Don's big brother, who with Bob Fraser, Ranald
Macdonald, and Thomas Finch was walking slowly toward the gate, "you
won't forget to ask your pa for an excuse if you happen to be late