"Come!" he said. "It is time we were off. I don't know what you are all thinking of, to stay on here after you are awake. I smelt the wet earth and the water, and the sap running in the trees, even in that dungeon where you had put me. The young reeds will soon be starting beside the pool, and it is my work to trim them and thin them out properly; besides, I am going to dig a new burrow, this year. I tell you I must be off."

And the squirrel with a chuckle, and the wood-pigeon with a sigh, and the raccoon with a strange feeling which he hardly understood, but which was not all pleasure, echoed the words, "We must be off!" Only the bear said nothing, for he was in the wood-shed, splitting kindling-wood with a fury of energy which sent the chips flying as if he were a saw-mill.

So it came to pass that on a soft, bright day in April, when the sun was shining sweetly, and the wind blew warm from the south, and the buds were swelling on willow and alder, the party of friends stood around the door of the little cottage, exchanging farewells, half merry, half sad, and wholly loving.

"After all, it is hardly good-by!" said the squirrel, gayly. "We shall be here half the time, just as we were last summer; and the other half, Toto will be in the forest. Eh, Bruin?"

But Bruin rubbed his nose with his right paw, and said nothing.

"And you will come to the forest, too, dear Madam!" cried the raccoon, "will you not? You will bring the knitting and the gingerbread, and we will have picnics by the pool, and you will learn to love the forest as much as Toto does. Won't she, Bruin?"

But Bruin rubbed his nose with his left paw, and still said nothing.

"And when my nest is made, and my little ones are fledged," cooed the wood-pigeon in her tender voice, "their first flight shall be to you, dear Madam, and their first song shall tell you that they love you, and that we love you, every day and all day. For we do love you; don't we, Bruin?"

But the bear only looked helplessly around him, and scratched his head, and again said nothing.

"Well," said Toto, cheerily, though with a suspicion of a quiver in his voice, "you are all jolly good fellows, and we have had a merry winter together. Of course we shall miss you sadly, Granny and I; but as you say, Cracker, we shall all see each other every day; and I am longing for the forest, too, almost as much as you are."

"Dear friends," said the blind grandmother, folding her hands upon her stick, and turning her kindly face from one to the other of the group,—"dear friends, merry and helpful companions, this has indeed been a happy season that we have spent together. You have, one and all, been a comfort and a help to me, and I think you have not been discontented yourselves; still, the confinement has of course been strange to you, and we cannot wonder that you pine for your free, wildwood life. Coon, give me your paw! it is a mischievous paw, but it has never played any tricks on me, and has helped me many and many a time. My little Cracker, I shall miss your merry chatter as I sit at my spinning-wheel. Mary, and Pigeon Pretty, let me stroke your soft feathers once more, by way of 'good-by.' Woodchuck, I have seen little of you, but I trust you have enjoyed your visit, in your own way.

"And now, last of all, Bruin! my good, faithful Bruin! come here and let me shake your honest, shaggy paw, and thank you for all that you have done for me and for my boy." She paused, but no answer came.

"Why, where is Bruin?" cried Toto, starting and looking round; "surely he was here a minute ago. Bruin! Bruin! where are you?"

But no deep voice was heard, roaring cheerfully, "Here, Toto boy!" No shaggy form came in sight. Bruin was gone.

"He has gone on ahead, probably," said the raccoon; "he said something, this morning, about not liking to say good-by. Come, you others, we must follow our leader. Good-by, dear Madam! See you to-morrow, Toto!"

"Good-by!"

"Good-by!"

"Good-by!" cried all the others.

And with many a backward glance, and many a wave of paw, or tail, or fluttering wing, the party of friends took their way to the forest home.

Boy Toto stood with his hands in his pockets, looking after them with bright, wide-open eyes. He did not cry,—it was a part of Toto's creed that boys did not cry after they had left off petticoats,—but he felt that if he had been a girl, the tears might have come in spite of him. So he stared very hard, and puckered his mouth in a silent whistle, and felt of the marbles in his pockets,—for that is always a soothing and comforting thing to do.

"Toto, dear," said his grandmother, "do you think our Bruin is really gone, without saying a word of farewell to us?"

"So it seems!" said the boy, briefly.

"I am very much grieved!" cried the old lady, putting her handkerchief to her sightless eyes,—"very, very much grieved! If it had been Coon, now, I should not have been so much surprised; but for Bruin, our faithful friend and helper, to leave us so, seems—"

"Hello!" cried Toto, starting suddenly, "what is that noise?"

Both listened, and, lo! on the quiet air came the sharp crashing sound of an axe.

"He's there!" cried the boy. "He isn't gone! I'll go—" and with that he went, as if he had been shot out of a catapult.

Rushing into the wood-shed, he caught sight of the well-beloved shaggy figure, just raising the axe to deliver a fearful blow at an unoffending log of wood. Flinging his arms round it (the figure, not the axe nor the log), he gave it such a violent hug that bear and boy sat down suddenly on the ground, while the axe flew to the other end of the shed.

"Oh, Bruin, Bruin!" cried Toto, "we thought you were gone, without saying a word to us. How could you frighten us so?"

The bear rubbed his nose confusedly, and muttered something about "a few more sticks in case of cold weather."

But here Toto burst out laughing in spite of himself, for the shed was piled so high with kindling-wood that the bear sat as it were at the bottom of a pit whose sides of neatly split sticks rose high above his head.

"You old goose!" cried the boy. "There's kindling-wood enough here to last us ten years, at the very least. Come away! Granny wants you. She thought—"

"There will be more butter to make, now, Toto, since that new calf has come," said the bear, breaking in with apparent irrelevance.

"I suppose there will!" said the boy, staring. "What of it?"

"And that pig is getting too big for you to manage," continued Bruin, in a serious tone. "He was impudent to me the other day, and I had to take him up by the tail and swing him, before he would apologize. Now, you couldn't take him up by the tail, Toto, much less swing him, and there is no use in your deceiving yourself about it."

"Of course I couldn't!" cried Toto. "No one could, except you, old monster. But what are you thinking about that for, now? Come along, I tell you! Granny will think you are gone, after all." And catching the bear by the ear, he led him back in triumph to the cottage-door, crying, "Granny, Granny! here he is! Now give him a good scolding, please, for frightening us so."

But the grandmother never scolded. She only stroked the shaggy black fur, and said, "Bruin, dear! my good, faithful, true-hearted Bruin! I could not bear to think that you had left me without saying good-by. That hurt me very much. But you would not have done it, would you, Bruin? We ought to have known you better."

The bear looked about him distractedly, and bit his paw severely, as if to relieve his feelings. "Yes I would!" he cried. "At least, if I meant to say good-by. I wouldn't say it, because I couldn't. But I don't mean to say it,—I mean I don't mean to do it. If you don't want me in the house,—being large and clumsy, as I am well aware, and ugly too,—I can sleep out by the pump, and come in to do the work. But I cannot leave the boy, please, dear Madam, nor you. And the calf wants attention, and that pig ought to be swung at least once a week, and—and—"

But there was no need of further speech, for Toto's arms were clinging round his neck, and Toto's voice was shouting exclamations of delight; and the grandmother was shaking his great black paw, and calling him her best friend, her dearest old Bruin, and telling him that he should never leave them.

And, in fact, he never did leave them. He settled down quietly in the little cottage, and washed and churned, baked and brewed, milked the cow and kept the pig in order. Happy was the good bear, and happy was Toto, in those pleasant days. For every afternoon, when the work was done, they welcomed one or all of their forest friends; or else they sought the green, beloved forest themselves, and sat beside the fairy pool, and wandered in the cool green mazes where all was sweetness and peace, with rustle of leaves and murmur of water, and chirp of bird and insect. But evening found them always at the cottage door again, bringing their woodland joyousness to the blind grandmother, making the kitchen ring with laughter as they related the last exploits of the raccoon or the squirrel, or described the courtship of the parrot and the crow.

And if you had asked any of the three, as they sat together in the porch, who was the happiest person in the world, why, Toto and the Grandmother would each have answered, "I!" But Bruin, who had never studied grammar, and knew nothing whatever about his nominatives and his accusatives, would have roared with a thunder-burst of enthusiasm,