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 "What! would you rather be in the woods than in that fine cage?" asked Frisky, who was lying on the grass near by.

"Would I?" said Gray-brush scornfully; "I would as soon die as to stay in this cage all summer."

Frisky looked very much surprised. He had never imagined but what Gray-brush was contented and happy, he was so cheerful and good-natured.

"Why," he said, "here you get a fine breakfast every morning, and in the woods you cannot always find nuts. Besides, here you are safe, and in the woods there are all sorts of dangers."

"I know it," said Gray-brush; "but it is not something to eat that I care for; the woods are my home, there I can run and be wild and free; but here I can only mope, and break my heart at last, for no one of my people was ever kept in a cage but he died of homesickness at the end."

"That is very queer," said Frisky; "I should think that you would like to have a kind master like ours, one who would feed you and keep your cage clean and nice."

"You would!" said Gray-brush contemptuously. "How would you like to be shut up in a box like this, and never go outside, while all of the other dogs were running about having a fine time?"

"I would not like it at all," said Frisky; "and if they did that to me I would gnaw off the slats and run away."