She had not forgotten her other children, but she knew they could now
look out for themselves, had plenty to eat, and a good, comfortable
home in the old tree. So she paid little attention to them, and
devoted all her thoughts and energies to her unfortunate, little
Graycoat.

Then came one cold, frosty night--so cold that the poor little baby
squirrel shivered and shook as though with an ague. Siccatee sat as
close to the bars of the prison as she could sit, and did her best to
warm Graycoat with the heat from her own little body. But Graycoat
missed the nice, warm nest in the tree, and although the side that was
nestling against his mother was fairly warm, his other side felt cold
and stiff.

In fact, he felt stiff all over, for the unnatural life, the different
food, the cruel prison bars, and last, but not least, the cold, frosty
night were too much for him, and quite suddenly he left off leaning
against his little mother, and lay on the floor of his prison cold and
stiff.

Poor Siccatee was in great distress. She ran round and round the cage,
calling him, scolding him and beseeching him to speak to her. Her
bright eyes were full of tears, and her poor little body shook with
cold and distress.

In vain she put first one tiny paw through the cage and tried to
arouse him, and then the other. It was no use. Graycoat neither moved
nor answered, and at last with a pitiful little cry Siccatee lay down
by the cage, put one little paw through the bars as though in a last