"Well, of course I do not wish to cause any trouble," said Mr. Crow, "but I certainly saw you cleaning tin spoons. Anyway, it will be easy to prove you have no spoons in the house by letting us search, and of course you rather would, Mr. c.o.o.n, for that will clear you from suspicion; that is, if we do not find them."

"Go ahead and look," said Mr. c.o.o.n, opening the door and standing aside for them to enter. "I am glad I did not take one of those spoons," he thought to himself, for he remembered that he had intended to do so if Mr. Dog had not come in so unexpectedly.

Of course Mr. Crow held back and let Mr. Possum do all the hunting until they came to Mr. c.o.o.n's bedroom, and then he said:

"I have always heard that stolen goods are often hidden between beds.

We might look there first."

Of course they found the spoons, and when Mr. c.o.o.n saw them he almost fell over. "Who put them there? I did not," he said.

"Of course you didn't," said Mr. Crow, with a smile that plainly said: "You are a story-teller."

"There is one spoon missing," said Mr. Possum, who had been counting the spoons. "I had a dozen and there are only eleven here."

"He probably ate his breakfast with that one," said Mr. Crow. "Better give it up, Mr. c.o.o.n; we have caught you and there is no use denying it now."

"Go ahead and find it if you can," said Mr. c.o.o.n. "I did not take those spoons and I do not know where the other spoon is, even if you do, Mr. Crow."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Mr. Crow, beginning to hop about.

"I mean that you seemed to be pretty sure where those spoons were,"

said Mr. c.o.o.n, "and if I am not mistaken about the history of your family, they are noted for their love of shining things fully as much as ours."

"Come along," said Mr. Crow to Mr. Possum; "we have found your spoons, and that is all I wanted. I cannot bother with this bad fellow, who now wants to make out I took the spoons; but that is always the way with thieves--they blame it on some one else if they can."

The more Mr. c.o.o.n thought about those spoons the more certain he was that Mr. Crow had something to do with their being found in his house; so one night about a week after he went to Mr. Crow's house and watched.

By and by he saw the light go out, and he thought, after all, he was not to catch Mr. Crow that night; but just as he was going away he saw a tiny flicker of light at another window. Up went Mr. c.o.o.n and peeked in.

And what do you think he saw? Mr. Crow sitting at a table eating bread and milk with Mr. Possum's missing tin spoon.

It did not take Mr. c.o.o.n long to run to Mr. Possum's house and bring him back with him and show him his spoon, and then right through the window they jumped and grabbed Mr. Crow by the nape of his neck. And how they did shake the old thief! They did not stop to talk to him.

"He is not worth the breath we should waste," said Mr. c.o.o.n, "and I feel sure this place is not a place that agrees with Mr. Crow's health.

He will move away, I am sure, where the climate will better agree with him."

The next day there was a to-let sign on the house where Mr. Crow had once lived, and the bachelors all met that night to discuss the breaking up of the party and to hear about the tin spoons and how they were found.

"And it is my opinion," said Mr. c.o.o.n, "that if some one were to ask Mr. Dog he would tell us that Mr. Crow went and told him about our party."

"But who will ask Mr. Dog?" asked Jack Rabbit.

No one seemed to be interested enough to ask Mr. Dog, and they never knew for sure whether he told or not, but Mr. c.o.o.n always said he did.

At any rate, the wood folk were rid of old Mr. Crow, and they were glad of it.

DISCONTENTED DEWDROP

[Ill.u.s.tration: Discontented Dewdrop]

One morning a little Dewdrop was resting on the petal of a wild rose that grew beside a river.

The sun shining on it made it glisten like a diamond and a lady who was pa.s.sing stopped to admire its beauty.

"It is the most beautiful thing in the world," she remarked. "See the colors in that tiny little drop. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Wonderful," repeated the Dewdrop when the lady had walked away. "If I were like the river I might be wonderful; it is too bad; here I am sitting here while the river can run on and on and see all the sights.

It bubbles and babbles as it goes, and that is worth while. I have never a chance to be wonderful. Oh, if I were only in the river water I might be something."

Just then a breeze pa.s.sing heard the little Dewdrop's wish.

"You shall have your wish, foolish Dewdrop," she said, blowing gently on the rose, which swayed, and off went the little Dewdrop into the rushing river.

"This is like something, being a part of this river," said the Dewdrop as it mingled its tiny drop with the running river. "Now I am worth admiring and can see something of the world."

On and on it ran with the water of the river, but it was no longer a Dewdrop; it was a part of the river.

"I wish I could stop for a minute so some one might admire me," said the silly little drop, for it thought it could still be seen and was making all the babbling it heard as the river ran along.

But no one admired it, nor did it stop. On went the river to a larger river, and by and by it came to the bay and the Dewdrop went rolling into it with the other water.

"Surely I am greater now than ever and worth admiring," thought the drop, but it heard no sweet words such as the lady spoke of the little Dewdrop on the rose by the river.

The bay mingled at last with the ocean and little Dewdrop knew at last that it was no longer a thing to be admired for itself alone, but a part of the great ocean. It was completely lost in the vastness of the mighty waters of which it was only a drop.

The breeze went whispering over it, calling, "Little Dewdrop, little Dewdrop, where are you?"

But the drop answered never a word. It did not even hear the gentle voice of the breeze, so loud was the roar of the ocean.

"Come away," called a loud wind to the gentle breeze; "that is no place for you. I must blow here and make the waves high, and you will never find your little Dewdrop. It has been swallowed long ago by the ocean.

Go back to your river and tell the other Dewdrops the fate of their companion."

The gentle breeze went away and the loud wind swept the ocean, making the waves high and the roar louder and louder. The little Dewdrop was there somewhere in the great whole, but it was lost forever in its longing to become great.

The gentle breeze went back to the river, and as she sighed around the rose where the discontented Dewdrop had rested she heard another drop say:

"Look at the river. Isn't it big? Here am I only a Dewdrop, so small no one can see me."

"Ah, that is where you are mistaken, my dainty Dewdrop," said the gentle breeze. "You can be seen now, but if you were to become a part of the river you would never be seen. You would lose your ident.i.ty as soon as you mingled with the waters of the river. Be your own sweet self and be content with the part you play in this world. You are helping to make it more beautiful by your own dainty beauty. Do not wish to do what only seems a greater thing."

And then she told the fate of the discontented Dewdrop that had wished to become great and how at last it was swallowed by its own greatness, and its dainty beauty which had been so admired no longer remained.

"Be content with the small but beautiful part you play in this world,"

she told the drop, "and do not long for a greatness which may result in your unhappiness."