Harper wandered beneath the Old Oak with a little basket on her arm. Acorns lay in the grass where the morning wind had shaken them loose.

She bent for the roundest acorn she could see. Before her fingers reached it, a squirrel appeared on a root and watched.

Harper lifted one acorn into her basket. At the same moment, the squirrel snatched another and hurried through the grass with its tail held high.

She found a second acorn and dropped it in with the first. Nearby, the squirrel scratched a neat hole beside a root and tucked its prize away.

Soon Harper stopped gathering altogether. She sat back in the cool grass and watched the squirrel bury another acorn, then pat the earth flat with both front paws.

The basket was only half full when she turned toward the lane. Behind her, the squirrel was still busy carrying acorns one by one.

Back at the cottage kitchen, she set her basket on the Keeping Shelf beside the button jar. Marmalade the cat slept in the patch of low gold light.

Through the window, the Old Oak stood dark against the evening sky. Harper touched one smooth acorn on the sill and wondered where the squirrel had hidden the rest.

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