Читать книгу The Story My Doggie Told to Me онлайн

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“I’m glad you told me that,” I said, “because I’ve always wondered about my legs and feet and been a little ashamed of them. They seemed so funny and crooked and big. Now I see that they are just as they should be.” I looked at my feet quite proudly. “I guess,” I said, “I’ll go and dig a hole somewhere.”

“Very well,” said Mother, stretching herself out to go to sleep, “but keep away from the flower beds, Fritz.”

So I found a field-mouse hole at the root of an apple tree in the orchard and dug and dug and had got down so far that only my tail was sticking out when Freya came along.

“What are you doing?” she asked. She might have seen for herself that I was digging a hole, but she is always asking silly questions like that.

“I’m digging for a badger,” I said. “Want to help?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!” cried Freya. “Is there really a badger down there?”

“Never you mind,” I said. “You don’t suppose I’d be digging a hole as deep as this one if there wasn’t something there, do you?” So I crawled out and Freya got in and went to work. I looked on a minute and then I said: