The Story of Freginald by Walter R. Brooks Page A

get anywhere socially unless you are noticed. The children we raised last year, now—they were bright enough, goodness knows, but it’s no good being bright inside if you aren’t bright outside.”
    â€œFine feathers make fine birds,” said Freginald solemnly. “True enough, I’m afraid. I’ve seen the same thing so often in the circus. We have an ostrich—”
    â€œExcuse me,” said the wren, “but to go back to your lion. Don’t you suppose you could persuade him to spare a few hairs? It wouldn’t take many.”
    â€œYou put me in a very embarrassing position,” said Freginald. “It’s true, it’s just barely possible that later on, when we have joined the band and he’s less upset about things—”
    â€œYou intend to join, then?” interrupted the wren.
    â€œWhat else can we do? Well, as I say, later you might approach him about it. But right now, when he’s so angry—why, I wouldn’t dare even mention it to him.”
    â€œBut later it will be too late,” protested the wren. “We can’t put off building. It has to be done right away. Look here; you wanted me to carry a message for you. Well now, I’ll make a deal with you. You get me enough hair for a nest and I’ll carry your message.”
    â€œI’m awfully sorry,” said Freginald. “I’m just simply awfully sorry I said anything about it at all. It’s nice of you to offer, but under those conditions—well, please let’s say no more about it. And—” He hesitated a minute, then he said: “Well, I’ll be honest with you. I made the whole thing up. I wanted to get you to carry our message. But I’m not going to deceive you into doing it. So just let’s forget it, shall we?”
    But the wren didn’t believe him. “Nonsense,” he said. “You don’t fool me for a minute. If you’d made it all up, you wouldn’t be silly enough to turn down my offer. Come along, now. You see if you can’t do something with your lion, and if you can, I’ll go tell Mr. Boomschmidt where you are.”
    â€œWell,” said Freginald doubtfully, “I’ll try. You wait here.”
    But as soon as he got in the loft where the wren couldn’t see him, he let the pleased feeling that had been bottled up inside him come out in a wide grin. He had gained his point and he hadn’t told a lie either. Or at least he had told one, but he had said it was a lie. He had discovered something, too—that suspicious people are the easiest to fool.
    But now he had to get some hair out of Leo’s mane. That wasn’t going to be easy. For what he had said about Leo was true; he was terribly proud of that mane. It would mean an argument. Of course, Leo would give in, because no animal would refuse to sacrifice a handful of hair to get his freedom. But Freginald thought he could avoid the argument, too.
    He went downstairs.
    â€œWhat luck?” said Leo.
    â€œOh, fair. I’ve got a wren interested. But we’ve got to wait awhile.” He went and sat down beside his friend. “My goodness, Leo,” he said. “Your mane is in a terrible state. All full of burs.”
    â€œWhat of it?” said Leo grumpily.
    â€œWhy, I don’t know,” said Freginald. “Only I should think you’d want to look your best in front of this gang. Just because they look like a lot of old mops there’s no reason why we should. There’s an old rake over in the corner. Suppose I comb it out for you.”

    So he got the rake and set to work. He had to pull anyway to get the burs out, and every now and then he would yank out a few hairs. Leo snarled and protested a good deal, but by the time his mane was free of burs, Freginald had more than enough hair for the nest.
    The wren was delighted and wanted to start building right away, but Freginald said no, he