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 But directly, from a distant orchard, came back the cheerful song of the squirrel family:

And the song was so full of joy and gladness, that Frisky was glad that he had turned the button, although he half expected a licking for it.

That evening, when I went to feed Gray-brush, I found his cage door wide open, and the little fellow gone.

"Where is Gray-brush?" I asked of Frisky, who was looking mournfully into the cage. And he looked so guilty that I was sure he had let him out, but he fell to licking my feet so affectionately that I forgave him.

"It's no matter," I said; "his home is in the woods, and there he should be."