Snoutie and His Friends. Diana Malivani

you’ll be a wise old Mousey!

      

      “We really need to get home,” worried Michelle. “It’s too bad we weren’t able to find our magical white flower,” she added sadly.

      “It really is,” answered Snoutie. “We must have done something wrong or looked in the wrong place.”

      “H-o-o-o-t!” rang out a voice from somewhere way up high in a pine tree. “As far as doing something wrong, well you sure got that right. For starters, you never should have gone out on such a long walk without permission from your parents. And that goes for both of you,” the voice scolded. “You must have known that your parents would get very worried and upset! Well, anyway, let’s get acquainted.”

      The invisible speaker flew noisily down to a lower branch.

      “My name is Michelle,” said the girl, who was the first one to collect herself. “And this is my friend Snoutie. We have been searching the forest for a magical white flower…”

      “I am Owl. The forest creatures call me Wise Old Owl, and it’s true that I have seen quite a bit in my time. And it’s safe to say I know everything there is to know about the Big Forest. For example, I know that you are good and kind creatures, and that you saved Little Squirrel. I will always be happy to see you in our forest, and I think that you will have many friends here. But now you must go home. H-o-o-o-t!” And Owl disappeared.

      Snoutie and Michelle understood that their trip was coming to an end and that they would be home that night. The rising moon brightly lit up all the forest paths, and its light guided the young friends to an opening in the trees. Snoutie and Michelle hurried in that direction. Soon they came out to the edge of the Big Forest, right next to the familiar green hill they had left behind that morning when they set off on their trip.

      * * *

      One fall evening, after dinner, when Michelle had grown bored of watching the wet leaves spin in the wind as dusk set in, she went to see her Daddy in his office. Daddy was sitting at a wide table, leaning back in a dark-green leather chair, and reading a big, fat book. When he saw Michelle, Daddy smiled, set aside the book, and cleared a place on the table. Michelle climbed up, got comfy, and started swinging her legs, letting her slippers knock against the oak panels of the table.

      “Daddy, you’re probably quite busy?” asked Michelle sweetly.

      “Not very, I don’t think,” answered Daddy. “In fact, I’m quite sure of it.”

      “Well, that’s great, then,” said Michelle. “Please tell me my favorite story about Snoutie.”

      “About Snoutie?” Daddy asked.

      “Yes. You do remember Snoutie, don’t you? He’s a little funny-looking, but very good and kind,” answered Michelle. “He and I are best friends.”

      “Yes, now lots of children know who Snoutie is, and they write him letters,” said Daddy. “Snoutie sometimes drops in for a visit, and I let him sit in my chair at the table and read those letters.”

      “He’s an Incredible Snoutie!” cried Michelle.

      “I have no doubt about it,” said Daddy.

      And Daddy began telling Michelle about Snoutie again.

      “As you will remember, Snoutie and Michelle once did some traveling in the Big Forest,” said Daddy. “I would even say they did quite a bit of traveling for such little travelers.”

      “Of course I remember,” nodded Michelle. “That was where they met so many friends. Tell me what happened next, Daddy.”

      “I’ll try,” said Daddy.

      And he did.

      CHAPTER TWO,

      IN WHICH SNOUTIE VISITS FRIENDS, GOOSE BECOMES A CEREMONIAL GIFT, AND MICHELLE HOSTS A CELEBRATION

      One day, late in the morning (for some reason our hero’s mornings always started late) and after a filling breakfast, Snoutie was walking around his room trying to catch spots of sunlight. Then he grabbed his wicker basket for collecting grapes and happily set out for the garden. He was in a wonderful mood, and it was at such times that he did a very good job writing short, simple songs, which he loved to hum under his breath. At that moment he was whistling one of those tunes:

      I love to water the ground,

      I love to write a round,

      I love to store up goods,

      I love to walk in the woods,

      But what I love most of all

      Is a breakfast that is not too small!

      

      Before Snoutie could finish his song, he heard someone ring the bell at the gate.

      “Who could that be?” thought Snoutie, heading to the fence. “It is Tuesday, and people don’t usually come calling on Tuesday mornings.”

      “Tele-ga-ga-ga-gram!” honked a voice from the other side of the fence.