"It was quite right, my lady. People should always be kind to the sick
and weak, and especially a poor Indian stranger. I like the story very
much, and shall be glad to hear more about the Indian boy."

"Nurse, there is not a great deal more about the Indian boy; for when the
Indian party to which he belonged returned from hunting, he went away to
his own home; but I forgot to tell you that the gentleman had often said
how much he should like to have a young beaver to make a pet of. He was
very fond of pets; he had a dear little squirrel, just like mine, nurse, a
flying squirrel, which he had made so tame that it slept in his bosom and
lived in his pocket, where he kept nuts and acorns and apples for it to
eat, and he had a racoon too, nurse,--only think! a real racoon; and Major
Pickford told me something so droll about the racoon, only I want first to
go on with the story about the beaver.

"One day, as the gentleman was sitting by the fire reading, he heard a
slight noise, and when he looked up was quite surprised to see an Indian
boy in a blanket coat,--with his dark eyes fixed upon his face, while his
long black hair hung down on his shoulders. He looked quite wild, and did
not say a word, but only opened his blanket coat, and showed a brown
furred animal asleep on his breast. What do you think it was, nurse?"

"A young beaver, my lady."

"Yes, nurse, it was a little beaver. The good Indian boy had caught it,
and tamed it on purpose to bring it to his white friend, who had been so
good to him.

"I cannot tell you all the amusing things the Indian boy said about the
beaver, though the Major told them to me; but I cannot talk like an