He had been so anxious for fear he wouldn't be permitted to stay
with the wild geese, that he hadn't dared to get into the least little
mischief since he joined their company. It was true that he didn't have
the power to do much harm now, but, little as he was, he could have
destroyed many birds' nests, and crushed many eggs, if he'd been in a
mind to. Now he had been good. He hadn't pulled a feather from a
goose-wing, or given anyone a rude answer; and every morning when he
called upon Akka he had always removed his cap and bowed.
All day Thursday he thought it was surely on account of his wickedness
that the wild geese did not care to take him along up to Lapland. And in
the evening, when he heard that Sirle Squirrel's wife had been stolen,
and her children were starving to death, he made up his mind to help
them. And we have already been told how well he succeeded.
When the boy came into the park on Friday, he heard the bulfinches sing
in every bush, of how Sirle Squirrel's wife had been carried away from
her children by cruel robbers, and how Nils, the goose boy, had risked
his life among human beings, and taken the little squirrel children to
her.
"And who is so honoured in Oevid Cloister park now, as Thumbietot!" sang
the bullfinch; "he, whom all feared when he was Nils the goose boy?
Sirle Squirrel will give him nuts; the poor hares are going to play with
him; the small wild animals will carry him on their backs, and fly away
with him when Smirre Fox approaches.
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