caller.

"Now, you never have mistaken him for me, have you?"

"No!"

"Nor me for him?"

"No!"

"Do you know the reason?" Mrs. Flicker asked.

"No! No! I can't say I do," replied Mrs. Woodpecker eagerly.

"Well," said Mrs. Flicker, "my husband wears a black mustache.... And of course I don't," she added.

"That's it!" cried Mrs. Woodpecker. "I hadn't realized it. But it's so. And I must tell my husband to wear a mustache. It's the only safe way to avoid trouble. Then people can tell us apart."

Then Mrs. Woodpecker hurried away to speak to her husband. She was surprised that he didn't take kindly to her suggestion.

"I don't want to wear a mustache," he objected.

"But you must!" she insisted.

"Why don't you wear one?" he inquired. "It would do just as well."

"Don't be silly!" she snapped. "Ladies never wear mustaches."

"Yes, they do," he replied.

"No, they don't!" she disputed.

Well, he saw at once that it was useless to argue with her.

"Come with me a moment, my dear!" Reddy begged her.

She thought he was going somewhere to get a mustache. So of course she hurried after him.

Reddy Woodpecker stopped beside Farmer Green's barn.

"There!" he said, as he waved a wing towards a great poster that was pasted upon the side of the barn. "Do you see that lady? She has a mustache—and a beard, too!"

It was just as he said. Mrs. Woodpecker couldn't help admitting that, to herself. And though she didn't speak to Reddy the rest of that day, he was satisfied. For she didn't mention mustaches to him again.

"It was lucky for me," he thought, "that the circus came to these parts this summer."