THERE WAS ONCE a nice old farmer. He lived alone on a small farm at the bottom of a wooded hill, and he was very kind to his neigh• bors in the woods. He set no traps, and allowed no gunners on his land, and when the weather was bad and food was scarce, he left hay for the deer at the edge of the fields, and didn't pick up all the apples under the apple trees. If he found a porcupine busy eating an apple, he didn't shout and brandish his arms, but walked along, paying no attention.
Because he was so nice to them, the animals were all grateful, and they were careful never to hurt his crops or take more than he meant them to.
One day in the late fall, the old farmer got a letter from his
lawyer, who wanted him to come to town on business. Of course he had to go, though he didn't want to at all. It looked as though the first snow of the season might· fall soon, and his train wouldn't get him back until after nightfall. The farmhouse would be dark and cold after being empty all day, and he didn't like to think how cheerless it would seem. But he went, since he knew he ought to, putting on a warm overcoat and his rubbers, and taking a lantern to leave at the station for his walk back to the farm in the dark.
Everything went well in town, but the day seemed long and the evening was cold and the first snow was indeed falling when the old farmer got off the train at the country station. He found
his lantern and lighted it, and trudged home along the snowy road. "My, but the house is going to seem dark and cold," he thought. He had left wood in the kitchen stove, but that would have burned out long ago. Going into the house after his long walk, would be
like stepping into a refrigerator.
But as he turned in at his gate he could scarcely believe his eyes. The lamps were all lighted. Squares of brightness made patches of yellow light on the new fallen snow. He could see smoke curling from the kitchen chimney.
Full of wonder, the old farmer hurried to one of the kitchen windows.
The room was glowing with light. By the stove, stood a bear
carefully putting an armful of wood into the firebox, while a kettle steamed merrily. By the sink, a raccoon was drying the last of the
breakfast dishes, which the farmer had stacked that morning until his return; and as he watched, a woodchuck came in with the farmer's pajamas to warm by the oven door.
"Bless their hearts," the farmer murmured, deeply touched. Now I suppose you think he hurried in to thank the animals
for their kindness, but you're wrong. He had not lived next to the woods all these years without having learned something. He knew, for instance, that his neighbors were kind, but shy. Talking with humans, even humans they liked, embarrassed them.
So the good old farmer went to the front door and made a great deal of noise while he knocked the snow off his rubbers, and took a great deal of time finding his key and getting it into the lock. Just as he entered the front hall he heard scuttling and giggling, and the back door slammed, leaving the house empty, but oh, so friendly and warm! The farmer went to his cupboard for some of yesterday's baked beans, which he meant to heat for his supper. He got everything ready, and even set his place at the kitchen
table, and put out half an apple pie and some cheese. Then think• ing that he had given the animals time enough, he opened the back door. There in the new fallen snow were three sets of tracks, a big set and two smaller ones, headed for the wooded hill behind the farm.
"Bless their kind hearts," the old farmer said again. "And now I suppose they'll go to sleep for the winter. Pleasant dreams, friends!"
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