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diff --git a/25943-h/25943-h.htm b/25943-h/25943-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c12e94b --- /dev/null +++ b/25943-h/25943-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2964 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tale of Chirpy Cricket, by Arthur Scott Bailey</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em} + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 110%; } + hr.full {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em} + + h1 {text-align:center; } + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Tale of Chirpy Cricket, by Arthur Scott +Bailey</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Tale of Chirpy Cricket</p> +<p>Author: Arthur Scott Bailey</p> +<p>Release Date: July 1, 2008 [eBook #25943]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 257px; height: 363px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 257px;'> +Chirpy Discovers Mr. Cricket Frog. (<i>Page 77</i>)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p><i>SLEEPY-TIME TALES</i></p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>(Trademark Registered)</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>THE TALE OF</p> +<p>CHIRPY</p> +<p>CRICKET</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 136px; height: 150px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>NEW YORK</p> +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p>PUBLISHERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright, 1920, by</span></p> +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Fiddler</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_FIDDLER'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Quick and Easy</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_QUICK_AND_EASY'>6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Bumblebee Family</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_BUMBLEBEE_FAMILY'>10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Too Much Music</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_TOO_MUCH_MUSIC'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Light in the Dark</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_A_LIGHT_IN_THE_DARK'>20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Plan Goes Wrong</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_A_PLAN_GOES_WRONG'>24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Johnnie Green’s Guest</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_JOHNNIE_GREEN_S_GUEST'>30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Pleasing Johnnie Green</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_PLEASING_JOHNNIE_GREEN'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Interrupted Nap</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_AN_INTERRUPTED_NAP'>40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Caught!</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_CAUGHT'>44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Queer, New Cousin</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_A_QUEER_NEW_COUSIN'>48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Underground Chat</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_AN_UNDERGROUND_CHAT'>52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Question of Feet</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_A_QUESTION_OF_FEET'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Chirpy is Careful</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_CHIRPY_IS_CAREFUL'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Tommy Tree Cricket</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_TOMMY_TREE_CRICKET'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Long Wait</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_A_LONG_WAIT'>71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sitting on a Lily-Pad</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_SITTING_ON_A_LILYPAD'>76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mr. Cricket Frog’s Trick</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_MR_CRICKET_FROG_S_TRICK'>81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>It Wasn’t Thunder</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_IT_WASN_T_THUNDER'>86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bound to be Different</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_BOUND_TO_BE_DIFFERENT'>91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mr. Nighthawk Explains</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_MR_NIGHTHAWK_EXPLAINS'>96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Harmless Mr. Meadow Mouse</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_HARMLESS_MR_MEADOW_MOUSE'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Wail in the Dark</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_A_WAIL_IN_THE_DARK'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Frightening Simon Screecher</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_FRIGHTENING_SIMON_SCREECHER'>112</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>THE TALE OF</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>CHIRPY CRICKET</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_FIDDLER' id='I_THE_FIDDLER'></a> +<h2>I</h2> +<h3>THE FIDDLER</h3> +</div> + +<p>If Chirpy Cricket had begun to make +music earlier in the summer perhaps he +wouldn’t have given so much time to fiddling +in Farmer Green’s farmyard. +Everybody admitted that Chirpy was the +most musical insect in the whole neighborhood. +And it seemed as if he tried his +hardest to crowd as much music as possible +into a few weeks, though he had been +silent enough during all the spring.</p> +<p>He had dug himself a hole in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +ground, under some straw that was scattered +near the barn; and every night, from +midsummer on, he came out and made +merry.</p> +<p>But in the daytime he was usually quiet +as a mouse, sitting inside his hole and doing +nothing at all except to wait patiently +until it should be dark again, so that he +might crawl forth from his hiding place +and take up his music where he had left +it unfinished the night before.</p> +<p>Somehow he always knew exactly where +to begin. Although he carried no sheets +of music with him, he never had to stop +and wonder what note to begin on, for the +reason that he always fiddled on the same +one.</p> +<p>When rude people asked Chirpy Cricket—as +they did now and then—why he +didn’t change his tune, he always replied +that a person couldn’t change anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +without taking time. And since he expected +to make only a short stay in Pleasant +Valley he didn’t want to fritter away +any precious moments.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket’s neighbors soon noticed +that he carried his fiddle with him +everywhere he went. And the curious ones +asked him a question. “Why”—they inquired—“why +are you forever taking your +fiddle with you?”</p> +<p>And Chirpy Cricket reminded them +that the summer would be gone almost before +anybody knew it. He said that when +he wanted to play a tune he didn’t intend +to waste any valuable time hunting for his +fiddle.</p> +<p>Now, all that was true enough. But it +was just as true that he couldn’t have left +his fiddle at home anyhow. Chirpy made +his music with his two wings. He rubbed +a file-like ridge of one on a rough part of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +the other. So his fiddle—if you could call +it by that name—just naturally had to go +wherever he did.</p> +<p><i>Cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> When that +shrill sound, all on one note, rang out in +the night everybody that heard it knew +that Chirpy Cricket was sawing out his +odd music. And the warmer the night the +faster he played. He liked warm weather. +Somehow it seemed to make him feel especially +lively.</p> +<p>People who wanted to be disagreeable +were always remarking in Chirpy Cricket’s +hearing that they hoped there would +be an early frost. They thought of course +he would know they were tired of his music +and wished he would keep still.</p> +<p>But such speeches only made him fiddle +the faster. “An early frost!” he would +exclaim. “I must hurry if I’m to finish +my summer’s fiddling.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></p> +<p>Now, Chirpy had dozens and dozens of +relations living in holes of their own, in the +farmyard or the fields. And the gentlemen +were all musical. Like him, they were fiddlers. +Somehow fiddling ran in their family. +So on warm nights, during the last +half of the summer, there was sure to be a +Crickets’ concert.</p> +<p>Sometimes it seemed to Johnnie Green, +who lived in the farmhouse, as if Chirpy +Cricket and his relations were trying to +drown the songs of the musical Frog family, +over in the swamp.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_QUICK_AND_EASY' id='II_QUICK_AND_EASY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +<h2>II</h2> +<h3>QUICK AND EASY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Of course Chirpy Cricket didn’t spend all +his time merely sitting quietly in his hole, +in the daytime—and fiddling every night. +Of course he had to eat. And each night +he was in the habit of creeping out of his +hole and gathering spears of grass in +Farmer Green’s yard, which he carried +home with him.</p> +<p>He called that “doing his marketing.” +And it was lucky for him that he liked +grass, there was so much of it to be had. +All he had to do was to step outside his +door; and there it was, all around him! +It made housekeeping an easy matter and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +left him plenty of time, every night, to +fiddle and frolic.</p> +<p>Somehow Chirpy could never go from +one place to another in a slow, sober walk. +He always moved by leaps, as if he felt too +gay to plod along like Daddy Longlegs, +for instance. Chirpy himself often remarked +that he hadn’t time to move +slowly. And almost before he had finished +speaking, as likely as not he would +jump into the air and alight some distance +away. It was all done so quickly that a +person could scarcely see how it happened. +But Chirpy Cricket said it was as easy as +anything. And having leaped like that, +often he would begin to shuffle his wings +together the moment he landed on the +ground, thereby making his shrill music.</p> +<p>Many of his neighbors declared that he +believed a short life and a merry one was +the best kind. And when they thought of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +Timothy Turtle, who was so old that nobody +could even guess his age, and was so +disagreeable and snappish that every one +kept out of his way, the neighbors decided +that possibly Chirpy Cricket’s way was +the better of the two. Anyhow, there was +no doubt that Timothy Turtle believed in +a long life and a grumpy one.</p> +<p>All Chirpy’s relations were of the same +mind as he. They acted as if they would +rather make the nights ring with their +music than do anything else. And Johnnie +Green said one evening, when he heard +Solomon Owl hooting over in the hemlock +woods, that it was lucky there weren’t as +many Owls as there were Crickets in the +valley.</p> +<p>If there were hundreds—or maybe +thousands—of Owls, and they all hooted +at the same time, there’d be no sleeping +for anybody. At least that was Johnnie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +Green’s opinion. And it does seem a reasonable +one.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket’s nearest relations all +looked exactly like him. Everybody said +that the Crickets bore a strong family resemblance +to one another. But there were +others—more distant cousins—that were +quite unlike Chirpy. There were the Mole +Crickets, who stayed in the ground and +never, never came to the surface; and +there were the Tree Crickets, who lived +in the trees and fiddled <i>re-teat! re-teat +re-teat!</i> until you might have thought +they would get tired of their ditty.</p> +<p>But they never did. They seemed to +like their music as much as Chirpy +Cricket liked his <i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i></p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_BUMBLEBEE_FAMILY' id='III_THE_BUMBLEBEE_FAMILY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +<h2>III</h2> +<h3>THE BUMBLEBEE FAMILY</h3> +</div> + +<p>The farmyard was not the first place that +Chirpy Cricket chose for his home. Before +he dug himself a hole under the +straw near the barn he had settled in the +pasture. Although the cows seemed to +think that the grass in the pasture belonged +to them alone, Chirpy decided that +there ought to be enough for him too, if +he didn’t eat too much.</p> +<p>He had been living in the pasture some +time before he discovered that a very +musical family had come to live next door +to him. They were known as the Bumblebees; +and there were dozens of them huddled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +into a hole long since deserted by +some Woodchucks that had moved to other +quarters.</p> +<p>Although they were said to be great +workers—most of them!—the Bumblebee +family found plenty of time to make +music. They were very fond of humming. +And in the beginning Chirpy +Cricket thought their humming a pleasant +sound to hear, as he sat in his dark hole +during the daytime.</p> +<p>“They’re having a party in there!” he +said, the first time he noticed the droning +music. “No doubt”—he added—“no +doubt they’re enjoying a dance!”</p> +<p>The thought made him feel so jolly that +if it had only been dark out of doors he +would have left his home and leaped about +in the pasture.</p> +<p>All that day, between naps, Chirpy +could hear the humming. “It’s certainly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +a long party!” he exclaimed, when he +awoke late in the afternoon and heard the +Bumblebee family still making music. +But about sunset their humming stopped. +And Chirpy Cricket couldn’t help feeling +a bit disappointed, because he had hoped +to enjoy a dance himself, to the Bumblebees’ +music when he left his home that +evening.</p> +<p>A little later he told his favorite cousin +about the party that had lasted all day. +And Chirpy said that he supposed the +Bumblebees had only one party a year, +because he understood that most of them +were great workers, and he didn’t believe +they would care to spend a whole day humming, +very often.</p> +<p>The favorite cousin gave Chirpy a +strange look in the moonlight. And then +he began to fiddle, making no remark +whatsoever. He thought there was no use +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +wasting words on a fine, warm night—just +the sort of night for a lively <i>cr-r-r-i! +cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i></p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket lost no time in getting +his own fiddle to working. And each of +them really believed he was himself making +most of the music that was heard in +the pasture.</p> +<p>Once in a while Chirpy Cricket and his +cousin stopped to eat a little grass, or +paused to carry a few spears into their +holes, because they liked to have something +to nibble on in the daytime. But they +always returned to their fiddling again; +and they never stopped for good until almost +morning.</p> +<p>But at last Chirpy Cricket announced +that he would make no more music that +night.</p> +<p>“I’ll go home now,” he said. “I expect +to have a good day’s rest. And I’ll meet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +you at this same spot to-morrow night for +a little fiddling.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be here,” his favorite cousin promised.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_TOO_MUCH_MUSIC' id='IV_TOO_MUCH_MUSIC'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h3>TOO MUCH MUSIC</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was just beginning to grow light in the +east when Chirpy Cricket crawled into his +hole in the pasture, after his fiddling +with his favorite cousin. Having spent +a good deal of the previous day in listening +to the humming of the musical Bumblebee +family, who lived next door to him, +Chirpy was more than ready to rest.</p> +<p>All was quiet at that hour of the morning, +except for the creaky fiddling of a +relation of Chirpy’s who didn’t appear to +know that it was time to go home. But +Chirpy Cricket didn’t mind that. Fiddling +never bothered him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>He never knew whether he had fallen +asleep or not. He may have been only +day-dreaming. Anyhow, all at once he +noticed a rumbling sound, which grew +louder and louder as he listened.</p> +<p>“They’re at it again!” Chirpy Cricket +exclaimed. “The Bumblebee family have +begun their music. I do hope they aren’t +going to have another all-day party, for +I don’t want my rest disturbed.”</p> +<p>But he soon found that the Bumblebees +were not tuning up for nothing. Before +long they were humming and buzzing +away as if they hadn’t a care in the world.</p> +<p>“I declare,”—Chirpy cried, although +there was no one but himself to hear—“I +declare, they’re dancing again! It can’t +be long after sunrise, either. And no +doubt they won’t stop till sunset.”</p> +<p>He began to feel very much upset. He +could understand why people should want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +to make music by night, and hop about in +a lively fashion, too. But by day—ah! that +was another matter.</p> +<p>Being unable to rest, on account of the +uproar from the Bumblebees’ house, +Chirpy crept out of his door and stood +blinking in the pasture. Soon he noticed +a plump person sitting on a head of clover +which the cows had overlooked. Chirpy +couldn’t see clearly who he was, coming +up out of the darkness as he had. But +he was glad there was somebody to talk to, +anyhow.</p> +<p>“Good morning!” he greeted the person +on the clover-top, adding in a lower +tone, “They’re a queer family—those +Bumblebees!”</p> +<p>To his great dismay, the person to whom +he had spoken began to buzz. And leaping +nearer him, in order to see him better, +Chirpy Cricket discovered that he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +been talking to Buster Bumblebee! Buster +was a blundering, good-natured chap. +And to Chirpy’s relief, instead of getting +angry he merely laughed.</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” +Chirpy told him. “If I’m disagreeable +this morning, it’s because I need a good +rest. And your family’s humming disturbs +me.”</p> +<p>“Why do you think we’re queer?” Buster +asked him.</p> +<p>“Don’t you call it a bit odd—having a +dance at this time of day?”</p> +<p>“Bless you! They’re not dancing in +there!” Buster Bumblebee cried. “That’s +the workers storing away the honey. +They’re always buzzing like that. Perhaps +you didn’t know that our honey-makers +can’t work without being noisy. +To tell the truth, they wake me every +morning. And often I’d rather sleep.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p> +<p>“Will they keep this racket up all summer?” +Chirpy inquired.</p> +<p>“On all pleasant days!” Buster Bumblebee +said.</p> +<p>“Then,” said Chirpy Cricket, “I’ll have +to move to a quieter neighborhood. This +humming every day would soon drive me +frantic.”</p> +<p>“I don’t blame you,” Buster Bumblebee +told him. “I’ve often felt that way +myself.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_A_LIGHT_IN_THE_DARK' id='V_A_LIGHT_IN_THE_DARK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>A LIGHT IN THE DARK</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy Cricket preferred the dark to the +day. He was quite different from Jennie +Junebug and Mehitable Moth, who dearly +loved a light at night, and would dash joyously +into any they saw.</p> +<p>There was only one light that Chirpy +Cricket was always glad to see. He +thought Freddie Firefly’s flashes looked +very cheerful as they twinkled about the +farmyard. And he often told Freddie that +he would be willing to linger above ground +in the daytime now and then, if only +Freddie would stay with him and make +merry with his light. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>But Freddie Firefly knew enough to decline +the invitation. He was well aware +that nobody could see his light when the +sun was shining. And he was afraid that +other merrymakers in the farmyard might +make matters far from merry for him. +For Freddie Firefly feared all birds. At +night he used his trusty light to frighten +Mr. Nighthawk or Willie Whip-poor-will. +But he didn’t intend to run any risk in the +daytime, with Jolly Robin or Rusty Wren.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket soon saw that it was useless +to try to get Freddie Firefly to enjoy +an outing with him by daylight. So every +night he spent as much time as he could in +Freddie’s company.</p> +<p>If the truth were known, Chirpy Cricket +wished that he had a light of his own. +And he couldn’t help hoping that sooner +or later Freddie Firefly would offer to +lend him his. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>Night after night the two met in the +farmyard. But nothing seemed further +from Freddie Firefly’s thoughts than +lending his brilliant greenish-white light +to Chirpy Cricket, or to any one else.</p> +<p>But Chirpy simply couldn’t keep his +eyes off that wonderful flash-light when +Freddie Firefly was in the neighborhood. +People began to notice that he even +stopped fiddling sometimes, to stare at +Freddie Firefly.</p> +<p>At last Chirpy Cricket made up his +mind that if he was ever going to borrow +the light he would have to ask Freddie +for it. Several nights passed before he +could think of a good reason for using it. +But after a while he thought of a fine one. +So he went straight to Freddie Firefly.</p> +<p>“I’m going to see Miss Christabel +Cricket home after the music is over tonight,” +Chirpy said, “and I’ve been wondering +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +if you’d be willing to do me a +favor.”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly!” Freddie Firefly told +him.</p> +<p>“Will you loan me your light?” Chirpy +asked him. “You know there’ll be no +moon when it’s time to go home. And +your light would be a great help to me, +for Miss Christabel lives beyond the barnyard +fence.”</p> +<p>For just a few moments Freddy Firefly +appeared greatly surprised. To tell the +truth, Chirpy’s request almost took his +breath away. And while he recovered +himself he forgot to flash his light—a most +unusual oversight.</p> +<p>But Freddie was no person to disappoint +a friend. Besides, he had just said, +“Why, certainly!”</p> +<p>Really, there was nothing for him to do +but to say the same thing again.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_A_PLAN_GOES_WRONG' id='VI_A_PLAN_GOES_WRONG'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h3>A PLAN GOES WRONG</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy Cricket never fiddled faster than +he did that night. Somehow he had a notion +that the faster he fiddled the more +quickly the night would pass. For Freddie +Firefly had promised to loan Chirpy +his light, because Chirpy needed it when +he saw Miss Christabel Cricket to her +home beyond the barnyard fence. Chirpy +was going to see her safely to her door +when the night’s concert was ended. And +he could hardly wait until the time came +when he would flash that wonderful light +in the eyes of all his friends.</p> +<p>“I hope you won’t go dancing across the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +meadow tonight,” he remarked anxiously +to Freddie Firefly. “You might wander +into the swamp and get lost.”</p> +<p>“Oh, there’s no danger of that!” Freddie +assured him.</p> +<p>“If you stumbled into the wet swamp +you might put your light out,” Chirpy +Cricket warned him.</p> +<p>But Freddie Firefly laughed and told +him not to worry.</p> +<p>“I always enjoy at least one dance in the +meadow each night,” he explained. +“They’re expecting me over there now. +And I don’t want to disappoint them.”</p> +<p>“No!” Chirpy answered. “And neither +do you want to disappoint me. So please +don’t fail to be on hand when the music’s +finished.”</p> +<p>After telling Chirpy that he wouldn’t +fail him, Freddie Firefly flitted away. +But in spite of what he had said Chirpy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +Cricket couldn’t help feeling nervous and +uneasy. And he fiddled so fast that the +other fiddlers kept complaining. They +said he wasn’t playing in time.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket was too well-mannered +to contradict them. But he had his own +opinion, which he kept to himself. He +thought his companions were out of time. +“Goodness!” he exclaimed under his +breath. “I near heard such slow fiddling +in all my life!”</p> +<p>There was another way, too, in which +Chirpy annoyed the others. He kept asking +them—first one and then another—what +time it was. And of course nobody +wants to stop and look at his watch when +he is fiddling.</p> +<p>At last one of his cousins told him, in +answer to his question, that it was time +to stop talking and pay attention to the +music. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>After that Chirpy Cricket tried to be +patient. But it was hard not to be restless. +And he kept leaping into the air, +hoping to get a glimpse of Freddie Firefly’s +twinkling light. For it seemed to him +that Freddie would never return from the +meadow.</p> +<p>At last the fiddlers stopped playing, one +after another; for the night was going +fast. The Cricket family always liked +to be home before daylight.</p> +<p>Chirpy had almost given up hope of +seeing Freddie Firefly. But to his great +delight Freddie came skipping up just +as Chirpy stood before Miss Christabel +Cricket, whom he expected to see to her +home.</p> +<p>“I’m glad you’ve come!” Chirpy +greeted him. “I’ll take your light now. +And I’ll return it to you to-morrow +night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>“Oh! That would be too much trouble +for you,” Freddie Firefly said. “I’ll go +right along with you and your young lady. +And after I’ve lighted her home I’ll do +the same thing for you.”</p> +<p>“Oh! That would be too much trouble +for you,” Chirpy Cricket objected. “Let +me take the light, please!” He certainly +didn’t want Freddie Firefly tagging along +with Miss Christabel Cricket and himself.</p> +<p>Of course, Freddie Firefly <i>couldn’t</i> give +Chirpy his light. It was just as much a +part of him as his head. And since Chirpy +Cricket began to get excited, and said +again and again that the light had been +promised him, in the end Freddie had to +explain everything.</p> +<p>It was a great disappointment to +Chirpy Cricket. He had expected to have +wonderful fun, flashing Freddie Firefly’s +light. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>But Miss Christabel Cricket did not +seem to mind in the least.</p> +<p>“You oughtn’t to blame Freddie Firefly +for not loaning his light,” she said. “You +know you wouldn’t let him take your +fiddle.”</p> +<p>Well, Chirpy Cricket hadn’t thought +of that. And he had to admit that what +she said was true.</p> +<p>And just then the sun peeped over Blue +Mountain. So everybody hurried home +alone, after all.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_JOHNNIE_GREEN_S_GUEST' id='VII_JOHNNIE_GREEN_S_GUEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +<h2>VII</h2> +<h3>JOHNNIE GREEN’S GUEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>There were enough night noises before +Chirpy Cricket came to live in the farmyard. +What with Solomon Owl’s hooting, +his cousin Simon Screecher’s quavering +call, and the musical Frog’s family’s concerts +in Cedar Swamp, it was a wonder +that Johnnie Green ever managed to fall +asleep. The Katydids alone were almost +enough to drive anybody frantic—if he +let himself listen to them—with their +everlasting cry of <i>Katy did, Katy did; she +did, she did</i>.</p> +<p>Johnnie Green himself said he wished +the Crickets had gone somewhere else to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +spend the summer. At least, he thought +they might play some other tune besides +<i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> over and over +again. If they would only fiddle “Yankee +Doodle” now and then he said he wouldn’t +mind lying awake a while to listen to it.</p> +<p>Perhaps Chirpy Cricket heard what +Johnnie Green said. Maybe he wanted to +punish him. Anyhow, he crept into the +farmhouse one evening and found his way +into Johnnie Green’s chamber, where he +hid in a gaping crack behind the baseboard. +And that very night, as soon as +Johnnie Green put out his light and +jumped into bed, Chirpy Cricket began to +fiddle for him.</p> +<p>Johnnie had been sleepy. But the moment +Chirpy Cricket began fiddling right +there in his room he became wide awake. +He had had no idea how loudly one of the +Cricket family could play his <i>cr-r-r-i!</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> indoors. The high, shrill +sound was piercing. It rang in Johnnie’s +ears and drowned the muffled concert of +the fields and swamp which the light +breeze bore through the window.</p> +<p>For a few minutes Johnnie lay still. +And then he sat up in bed. “I’ll have to +get up and find that fellow,” he said. “If +I don’t, he’ll keep me awake.”</p> +<p>The moment he stirred, the fiddling +stopped short. Johnnie was glad of that. +And once more he laid his head upon his +pillow. But in a few moments that +<i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> rang out again.</p> +<p>Then Johnnie Green tried several remedies. +He shook the bed. He knocked +over a chair. He caught up a shoe and +threw it toward a corner of the room, +whence the sound seemed to come. And +then he threw the other shoe.</p> +<p>Every time Johnnie Green made a noise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +Chirpy Cricket stopped fiddling. And if +Johnnie had had enough shoes no doubt +he could have kept Chirpy from making +any more music that night. But of course +Johnnie couldn’t have slept any, if he had +done that. Besides, he would have kept +the whole family awake, too. He thought +of that after he had hurled the second +shoe. For his father called up the stairs +and asked him what was the matter.</p> +<p>“There’s an old Cricket in my room!” +Johnnie explained. “He’s keeping me +awake.”</p> +<p>“I should think you were keeping him +awake,” said Farmer Green. “Get up +and look for him if you must.... But +don’t let him bite you!”</p> +<p>“You wouldn’t joke if this old Cricket +was in your room,” Johnnie grumbled.</p> +<p>He did not grumble often. But he had +had a long, hard day, swimming in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +mill-pond and climbing apple trees. And +he wanted to go to sleep.</p> +<p>Johnnie Green thought it was no time to +crack jokes.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_PLEASING_JOHNNIE_GREEN' id='VIII_PLEASING_JOHNNIE_GREEN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<h3>PLEASING JOHNNIE GREEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Johnnie Green knew that he could never +find the Cricket in the dark. So he +crawled out of bed and lighted a candle, +blinking a few moments in its flickering +flame.</p> +<p>From his hiding place in the crack of +the baseboard, in a corner of Johnnie +Green’s chamber, Chirpy Cricket saw the +gleam of the candle. And he wondered +whether it might be a relation of Freddie +Firefly. It seemed to have a trick of moving +about in a jerky fashion, as if it didn’t +know where it was going and didn’t +greatly care, so long as it was on the move. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket kept still as a mouse +then. He soon saw that the bearer of the +bright light was quite unlike Freddie Firefly, +in one way. He made a tremendous +racket, knocking over almost everything +in the room.</p> +<p>In a few minutes a voice called up the +stairway again. “Is the Cricket chasing +you?” it asked. It was Farmer Green, +speaking to Johnnie.</p> +<p>“Don’t tease me!” Johnnie Green cried. +“Come up and help me find him!”</p> +<p>So Farmer Green climbed the stairs and +looked into Johnnie’s room and laughed.</p> +<p>“Maybe I ought to have brought the old +shotgun,” he said. “I’d hate to have a +Cricket jump at me.”</p> +<p>Johnnie managed to grin at that. He +was so wide awake that he no longer felt +like grumbling.</p> +<p>“The trouble with this Cricket is that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +won’t jump,” he told his father. “I can’t +tell where he is, because he keeps still +whenever I move. But when the light’s +out and everything’s quiet he makes a terrible +noise.”</p> +<p>“That’s a trick Crickets have,” Farmer +Green observed. “And I must say that if +I were a Cricket I’d act the same way.”</p> +<p>Of course Chirpy Cricket heard everything +that was said. And he couldn’t help +thinking that Farmer Green was a very +sensible person. “I dare say he’d be a +famous fiddler if he belonged to our family,” +Chirpy told himself. And for a moment +or two he was tempted to play a tune +for Farmer Green. But he thought better +of the notion at once. He remembered +that Farmer Green had climbed the stairs +to hunt for him. And Chirpy squeezed +himself further into the crack where he +was hiding until he was so huddled up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +that he couldn’t have fiddled if he had +wanted to.</p> +<p>Though they looked carefully, neither +Johnnie nor his father could find him. +And at last they had to admit that it was +useless to search any longer.</p> +<p>“What shall I do?” Johnnie wailed. +“As soon as I put out the light and get +into bed he’ll begin chirping again.”</p> +<p>“In such cases,” Farmer Green answered +wisely, “there’s only one thing to +do.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” Johnnie inquired hopefully.</p> +<p>“All you can do,” said Farmer Green, +“is to come downstairs and have something +to eat.”</p> +<p>Now, that may seem a strange remedy. +But somehow it just suited Johnnie +Green. He pattered barefooted down the +stairs. And later, when he went to bed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +again, and Chirpy Cricket began to chirp +once more, all Johnnie Green said was +this:</p> +<p>“Sing away—little Tommy Tucker! +You may not know it, but you sang for my +supper!”</p> +<p>And the next moment, Johnnie Green +was sound asleep.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_AN_INTERRUPTED_NAP' id='IX_AN_INTERRUPTED_NAP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +<h2>IX</h2> +<h3>AN INTERRUPTED NAP</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy Cricket liked his home in Farmer +Green’s yard. During the long summer +days he thought it very cheerful to rest +in his dark hole in the ground. He liked +the darkness of his home; he liked its +warmth, too. For in pleasant weather the +sun beat down upon the straw-littered +ground above him and gave him plenty of +heat, while on gray days the straw blanket +kept his house cosy. And it never occurred +to Chirpy Cricket that there was +anything odd in having a blanket over his +house instead of over himself.</p> +<p>Nothing ever really disturbed Chirpy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +Cricket after he settled in the farmyard. +To be sure, he had a few frights at first. +Now and then the earth trembled in a terrible +fashion. But that happened only +when Johnnie Green led old Ebenezer, or +some other horse, to the watering-trough, +passing right over Chirpy’s home. And +Chirpy had soon learned that he was in no +danger.</p> +<p>Then at other times he heard an odd +tearing and scratching, as if some giant +had discovered Chirpy’s doorway and +meant to dig him out of his hiding place. +By peeping slyly out he discovered at last +the cause of those fearful sounds. It was +only the hens looking for something to +eat—a bit of grain amid the straw, or perhaps +an angleworm. Chirpy never left +his house when he heard the hens at work. +He had no wish to offer himself as a tidbit. +And he felt quite safe down in his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +home, for he was quick to learn that the +hens were no diggers. They could only +scratch the surface of the ground. So, in +time, he used to laugh when he heard them. +And now and then he would even fiddle a +bit, as if to say to them, “Here I am! +Come and get me if you can!”</p> +<p>The sound of fiddling, coming from beneath +their feet, always puzzled the hens. +They would stop scratching and cock their +heads on one side, to listen. And they +tried to look very knowing. But they +were really the most stupid of all the creatures +in the farmyard. If they had only +been as wise as Farmer Green’s cat they +would have kept still and waited and +watched. And sooner or later they would +have given Chirpy Cricket the surprise +of his life, when he came crawling out of +his hole to get a few blades of grass for +his supper. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>But even if the hens had thought of such +a plan they never could have kept their +minds upon it long enough to carry it out. +So perhaps it was no wonder that Chirpy +Cricket got the idea into his head that he +was safe from everybody. Sometimes, +when he was dozing, even the footsteps of +old Ebenezer failed to rouse him.</p> +<p>But there came a day when Chirpy +Cricket awoke with a great start. Something +had touched his long feelers. Something +had come right down into his hole +and was prodding him.</p> +<p>He thought it must be a hen. And he +did not laugh. No! Nor did he fiddle!</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_CAUGHT' id='X_CAUGHT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +<h2>X</h2> +<h3>CAUGHT!</h3> +</div> + +<p>Whatever or whoever it was that had entered +Chirpy Cricket’s home—the hole in +the ground near Farmer Green’s barn—it +caused him a terrible fright. It kept +poking him in a most alarming fashion. +Chirpy couldn’t move away from it, for +his home was only big enough for himself +alone. And since he didn’t care to share it +with another, he soon made up his mind +that there was only one thing for him to +do. He would quit his house for the time +being, with the hope of finding it empty +later. Indeed Chirpy Cricket thought he +would be lucky to escape in safety. So +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +he scrambled up into the daylight, to be +greeted with a shout and a pounce, both +at the same time. And Chirpy Cricket +saw, too late, that it was a creature much +bigger than a hen that had captured him. +It was Johnnie Green!</p> +<p>Of course Johnnie himself had not entered +Chirpy’s underground home. What +he had done was merely to run a straw +into the hole where Chirpy lived and prod +him with it until he came out.</p> +<p>“Aha!” said Johnnie Green as he +looked at his prisoner, whom he held gingerly +between a finger and a thumb. “Are +you the rascal that keeps me awake at +night with your everlasting noise?”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket never said a word.</p> +<p>“You make racket enough every night,” +Johnnie told him. “Can’t you answer +now when you’re spoken to?”</p> +<p>Still Chirpy Cricket made no reply. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +waved his feelers frantically and tried to +jump out of Johnnie Green’s grasp. +But no matter how fast he moved his six +legs, he couldn’t get away.</p> +<p>“You don’t seem to like me,” said his +captor finally. “You don’t act as if you +wanted to play with me.... What will +you do for me if I let you go?”</p> +<p>But not a word did Chirpy Cricket say—not +one single word!</p> +<p>“You’re a queer one,” Johnnie Green +told him. “You might fiddle for me, at +least—though I must say I don’t care for +the tune you always play. I can get better +music out of a cornstalk fiddle than +I’ve ever heard from you or any of your +family.”</p> +<p>Then, very carefully, Johnnie set +Chirpy Cricket on the ground, with both +his hands cupped closely over him, so he +couldn’t jump away. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>“Now, fiddle!” Johnnie Green cried. +“Fiddle just once and I’ll let you go.”</p> +<p>Though Johnnie Green waited patiently +for what seemed to him a long time, he +heard nothing that sounded the least bit +like fiddling. So at last he peeped between +two fingers to see what the fiddler +was doing. But Johnnie Green couldn’t +see him. Little by little he lifted his hands. +And to his great surprise there was nothing +under them but grass—and beneath +the grass a crack in the earth.</p> +<p>“Well! You’re a sly one!” Johnnie +Green exclaimed. “You’ve crawled into +that crack. And you may stay there, too, +for all I care.” Johnnie jumped to his +feet and moved away. And not until he +had been gone some time did Chirpy +Cricket make a sound. Then he played +a few notes on his fiddle, just to see that it +hadn’t been harmed.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_A_QUEER_NEW_COUSIN' id='XI_A_QUEER_NEW_COUSIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +<h2>XI</h2> +<h3>A QUEER, NEW COUSIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy Cricket was so fond of fiddling +that sometimes he was the last of all the +big Cricket family to stop making music +and go home to bed. Now and then he +lingered so long above the ground that the +dawn caught him before he crept into his +hole in the ground, beneath the straw. +And one morning it was getting so light +before he had played enough to suit him +that he crawled into a crack in Farmer +Green’s garden. It looked like a comfortable +place to spend the day. And he +thought it would be foolish for him to do +much travelling at that hour, because there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +was no telling when an early bird might +spy—and pounce upon—him.</p> +<p>He found his retreat quite to his liking. +Nothing had happened to disturb his rest. +And if he had only had time to carry a few +blades of grass into the crack, to eat between +naps, Chirpy would have had nothing +to wish for.</p> +<p>Late in the afternoon, however, a most +unusual thing took place. Chirpy Cricket +noticed a sound as of some one digging. +It grew louder and louder as he listened. +And it was not in the least like the scratching +of a hen, looking for grubs and worms. +This noise was deep down in the ground +and like nothing Chirpy had ever heard.</p> +<p>He wished that he had not allowed himself +to become so fond of fiddling. If he +had cared less for it, he would have gone +home in good season. But there he was +in a crack in the garden! And he didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +dare leave it because he had heard that the +garden was a famous place for birds.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket was frightened. And +when at last the loose earth near him began +to quiver and even to crumble he was +so scared that he didn’t know which way +to move. The next instant a strange looking +person stood before him. And for a +few moments neither one of them said a +word.</p> +<p>The newcomer was a big fellow, very +long and with enormous legs. His front +legs especially were short and powerful, +with huge feet at the end of them. And +yet, odd as the stranger was, Chirpy could +not help noticing that somehow he had a +look like the Cricket family.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the stranger at last, “you +seem surprised. Perhaps you weren’t expecting +callers.”</p> +<p>“No, I wasn’t,” Chirpy Cricket answered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +in a voice that was faint from the +fright he had had.</p> +<p>“But you’re glad to see me, I hope,” the +stranger went on. “You know I’m related +to you. You know I’m a sort of cousin of +yours.”</p> +<p>“Is that so?” Chirpy Cricket cried. “I +did think for a moment that there was a +slight family resemblance. But the longer +I look at you the queerer you seem. May +I ask your name?”</p> +<p>“I’m Mr. Mole Cricket,” said the +stranger. “And I don’t need to inquire +who you are. You’re one of the well-known +Field Cricket family.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_AN_UNDERGROUND_CHAT' id='XII_AN_UNDERGROUND_CHAT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +<h2>XII</h2> +<h3>AN UNDERGROUND CHAT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy Cricket was glad of one thing. +Mr. Mole Cricket <i>talked</i> quite pleasantly, +for all he looked so frightful. When he +dug his way through the dirt in Farmer +Green’s garden and broke into the crack +where Chirpy was hiding he had given +Chirpy a terrible start.</p> +<p>“If you’re a cousin of mine—as you +say—it’s strange that I’ve never happened +to meet you before,” Chirpy told +the newcomer.</p> +<p>“Not at all! Not at all!” Mr. Mole +Cricket said. “I spend all my time underground. +I’ve never been up in the open.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“Don’t you go out at night?” Chirpy +asked him.</p> +<p>“Never!” Mr. Mole Cricket declared. +“I’ve lived my whole life in the dirt. And +I like it too well to leave it.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket thought his cousin was +the queerest person he had ever met.</p> +<p>“How do you get anything to eat?” he +inquired.</p> +<p>Mr. Mole Cricket seemed to consider +that an odd question.</p> +<p>“Bless you!” he exclaimed. “There’s +everything to eat in the ground—everything +anybody could possibly want. +Wherever I tunnel I find tender roots. +You know Farmer Green grows fine vegetables +here. Indeed that’s one reason I +live under his garden.”</p> +<p>“If that’s one reason, what’s another?” +Chirpy Cricket asked him. For Chirpy +couldn’t help being curious about this new-found +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +cousin of his, who had such strange +ways and who was even stranger to look +upon.</p> +<p>He was obliging enough—was Mr. Mole +Cricket. He was quite willing to answer +any and all questions. It may be that he +was glad of the chance to talk with somebody. +Certainly it seemed to Chirpy +Cricket that his cousin led a very lonely +life. He explained to Chirpy that it was +easy to dig in the garden, because its soil +was loose. The ploughing in the spring, +and the harrowing, as well as the hoeing +that Farmer Green’s hired man did during +the summer, kept the earth in fine condition +for tunnelling. Of course, living +beneath the surface as he did, Mr. Mole +Cricket had no way of knowing why the +garden soil was so nicely stirred up. He +only knew that it was so. And that was +quite enough for him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket said that it was all very +interesting to hear about. But he knew +that he shouldn’t care to follow Mr. Mole +Cricket’s manner of living. “I love to +fiddle,” he said. “I simply must go +abroad every pleasant night and make +music.”</p> +<p>“But you don’t need to leave the dirt to +fiddle!” Mr. Mole Cricket exclaimed. +“I’m musical too. I often fiddle down in +my house. I don’t know a better way of +passing the time, when a person’s not +digging or eating.”</p> +<p>“Won’t you play for me now?” Chirpy +Cricket asked him.</p> +<p>Mr. Mole Cricket was more than willing +to oblige. He began to fiddle at once. And +the tune he played was as strange as he +was. Chirpy Cricket did not like it at all. +It seemed to him very mournful, a sort +of sad, sad air, as if Mr. Mole Cricket +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +were bewailing his dismal life beneath the +garden.</p> +<p>But of course Chirpy was too polite to +tell that to his cousin. And when Mr. +Mole Cricket asked him how he liked the +tune, Chirpy replied that it was very, very +interesting.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_A_QUESTION_OF_FEET' id='XIII_A_QUESTION_OF_FEET'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<h3>A QUESTION OF FEET</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Are you sure you’re a cousin of mine?” +Chirpy Cricket inquired of Mr. Mole +Cricket. “Don’t you think that perhaps +you are mistaken? I’m almost certain +you are.”</p> +<p>“No!” said Mr. Mole Cricket. “I can’t +be wrong. Why do you ask me such a +question?”</p> +<p>“Your forefeet”—Chirpy told him—“your +forefeet are so big! I’ve always +understood that all our family had small +ones.”</p> +<p>Mr. Mole Cricket smiled.</p> +<p>“Don’t let the size of my feet trouble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +you!” he replied. “I couldn’t be a Mole +Cricket if my feet were like yours. You +see, I use my forefeet for digging. And +if they weren’t big and strong I never +could burrow in this garden, nor anywhere +else.”</p> +<p>Still Chirpy Cricket had his doubts.</p> +<p>“I’m inclined to believe,” he continued, +“that you’re related to Grandfather Mole, +and not to me. For your feet are very +much like his.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” Mr. Mole Cricket cried. +“And for pity’s sake don’t ever let Grandfather +Mole hear you say that! He’d be +so angry that he’d eat me, as likely as not. +You see, he objects to my name. He says +I have no right to call myself Mr. Mole +Cricket. But that’s the name my family +has always had. And I can’t very well +change it.”</p> +<p>The poor fellow acted so alarmed that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +Chirpy Cricket hastened to promise him +that he would never mention his likeness +to Grandfather Mole again.</p> +<p>“Very well!” said Mr. Mole Cricket. +“That’s kind of you, I’m sure. And now, +if you want to make me quite happy, +there’s one more thing to which you will +agree.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” Chirpy Cricket asked. +He felt sorry for Mr. Mole Cricket, who +had never known the pleasure of fiddling +with a thousand other musicians under the +stars on a warm summer night. “If there +is anything I can do to make you happy, +just tell me!”</p> +<p>“Then call me ‘Cousin’!” Mr. Mole +Cricket begged him.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket cast one glance at Mr. +Mole Cricket’s huge feet. In spite of +everything their owner had told him, +Chirpy still found it difficult to believe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +that Mr. Mole Cricket could be even a very +distant relation.</p> +<p>“I’ll do it!” he said at last. “If it will +make you any happier I’ll call you ‘Cousin’—though +you can’t be any nearer than +a hundred times removed.”</p> +<p>It was easy to see that Mr. Mole Cricket +was delighted.</p> +<p>“Thank you! Thank you!” he exclaimed. +“But permit me to correct you. +I’m your cousin a good many thousand +times removed. But that’s no reason why +we shouldn’t be the best of friends. And +now,” he added, “won’t you come home +with me? I’d like you to meet my wife.”</p> +<p>While thanking him for the invitation, +Chirpy Cricket couldn’t help wondering +whether Mr. Mole Cricket’s wife had as +big feet as her husband.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_CHIRPY_IS_CAREFUL' id='XIV_CHIRPY_IS_CAREFUL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<h3>CHIRPY IS CAREFUL</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Do you live near-by?” Chirpy Cricket +inquired of Mr. Mole Cricket, who had +just invited him to his home to meet his +wife.</p> +<p>“My home is not very far from here,” +his new cousin said. “We’ll go back +through this tunnel I’ve been making. +The other end of it opens into my dwelling, +some distance below the surface of +the garden. Follow me and you’ll have no +trouble finding it.”</p> +<p>But somehow Chirpy Cricket did not +quite like the idea of travelling with the +stranger, cousin though he might be, under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +Farmer Green’s garden. “Not to-day!” +he said politely. “I haven’t had anything +to eat since last night. And I don’t feel +like taking a journey.”</p> +<p>“We’ll snatch a bite on the way to my +house,” Mr. Mole Cricket suggested cheerfully. +“I’ll dig out a few juicy roots for +you. Which kind do you like best—beet, +turnip or carrot?”</p> +<p>“I don’t like any of them,” Chirpy +Cricket confessed.</p> +<p>“You don’t!” his cousin cried, as if he +were astonished to hear that. “What do +you live on, then?”</p> +<p>“Grass!” Chirpy answered.</p> +<p>“I’ve never heard of it,” said Mr. Mole +Cricket. “And I must say you have queer +tastes—even though you are my own +cousin.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket saw that he and Mr. +Mole Cricket were bound to have trouble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +if they saw too much of each other. So +he hinted—in a delicate way—that Mr. +Mole Cricket’s wife must be wondering +where he was.</p> +<p>Thereupon that gentleman started up +hurriedly and made for his tunnel.</p> +<p>“I’ll see you again sometime,” he said +hastily over his shoulder. And in another +instant he was gone.</p> +<p>They never met again. Chirpy Cricket +took great pains never to spend another +day in hiding in Farmer Green’s garden. +He was afraid there might be trouble if +he saw more of his cousin. And he +couldn’t forget those powerful forelegs +and enormous feet of Mr. Mole Cricket! +They looked very dangerous.</p> +<p>The longer Chirpy pondered over his +brief meeting with Mr. Mole Cricket, the +more firmly he made up his mind that he +had been in great danger and that he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +been lucky to escape alive. Everybody +knew that Grandfather Mole was a terrible-tempered +person when aroused. He +would rush at anybody, big or little. Perhaps +that was because he couldn’t see what +sized person he was attacking. For +Grandfather Mole was blind. But he +never stopped to inquire of anybody +whether he was tall or short, thick or thin. +He just went ahead without asking.</p> +<p>“I’m glad,” thought Chirpy, “that I +didn’t go home with Mr. Mole Cricket. +If his wife’s feet are anything like his +they’d be a fearful pair to quarrel with. +And even if they hadn’t quarrelled with +me, they might have had trouble between +themselves. And if I happened to get in +their way it would certainly have gone +hard with me.”</p> +<p>Harmless Mr. Mole Cricket never knew +what a monster his cousin Chirpy Cricket +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +believed him to be. When he reached home +he told his wife that he had met a queer +little cousin who spent much of his time +above ground and lived on grass.</p> +<p>But Mrs. Mole Cricket wouldn’t believe +him. She told him not to be silly. She +even said that there wasn’t any such thing +as grass. And she asked him how anybody +could live on it when there wasn’t +any anywhere.</p> +<p>Naturally, she wouldn’t have talked like +that if she had ever seen much of the +world. But she had spent her whole life +down in the dirt, beneath Farmer Green’s +garden.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_TOMMY_TREE_CRICKET' id='XV_TOMMY_TREE_CRICKET'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +<h2>XV</h2> +<h3>TOMMY TREE CRICKET</h3> +</div> + +<p>After meeting that odd Mr. Mole Cricket, +who claimed to be his cousin, Chirpy +Cricket tried to find out more about him +from his nearer relations. But there +wasn’t one that had ever seen or heard of +such a person. One night Chirpy even +travelled quite a distance to call on +Tommy Tree Cricket, with the hope that +perhaps Tommy might be able to tell him +something.</p> +<p>Chirpy found Tommy Tree Cricket in +the tangle of raspberry bushes beyond the +garden. It was not hard to tell where he +was, because he was a famous fiddler. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +played a tune that was different from +Chirpy’s <i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> +Tommy Tree Cricket fiddled <i>re-teat! re-teat! +re-teat!</i> And many considered him +a much finer musician than Chirpy himself. +He was small and pale. Beside +Chirpy Cricket, who was all but black, +Tommy Tree Cricket looked decidedly +delicate. But he could fiddle all night +without getting tired.</p> +<p>“I’ve come all the way from the yard to +have a chat with you!” Chirpy called to +his cousin Tommy.</p> +<p>“Come up and have a seat!” said +Tommy Tree Cricket.</p> +<p>“I can find one here, thank you!” +Chirpy answered.</p> +<p>“Oh! Don’t sit on the damp ground!” +Tommy cried. “That’s a dangerous thing +to do.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket smiled to himself. In +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +a way Tommy Tree Cricket was queer. +He always clung to trees and shrubs, +claiming that it was much more healthful +to live off the ground. But he was so +pale that Chirpy Cricket was sure he was +mistaken.</p> +<p>“The ground’s good enough for me,” +Chirpy told his cousin.</p> +<p>“Well, we won’t quarrel about that tonight,” +said Tommy Tree Cricket. “Sit +there, if you will. And when I’ve finished +playing this tune we’ll have a talk. I only +hope you won’t catch cold while you’re +waiting down there.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you stop fiddling long enough to +talk with me now?” Chirpy asked him. +“I’ve come here to ask you whether you +ever saw a cousin of ours called Mr. Mole +Cricket.”</p> +<p>“<i>Re-teat! re-teat! re-teat!</i>” Tommy +Tree Cricket was already fiddling away +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +as if it were the last night of the summer. +He was making so much shrill music that +he couldn’t hear a word Chirpy said. The +more Chirpy tried to attract his attention +the harder he played, rolling his eyes in +every direction—except that of his caller.</p> +<p>Several times Chirpy Cricket leaped +into the air, hoping that Tommy Tree +Cricket would see that he had something +important to say. But Tommy paid not +the slightest heed to him.</p> +<p>At last Chirpy decided that he might as +well do a little fiddling himself, to pass +the time away. So he began his <i>cr-r-r-i! +cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> And then Tommy noticed +him immediately.</p> +<p>“You’re playing the wrong tune!” he +cried. “It’s <i>re-teat! re-teat! re-teat!</i>”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket thought that his cousin’s +face was slightly darker, as if a flush of +annoyance had come over it. He certainly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +didn’t want to quarrel with Tommy Tree +Cricket. So he said to him, very mildly, +“I fear you do not like my playing.”</p> +<p>“I can’t say that I do,” said Tommy. +“It makes me think of that creaking pump +at the farmhouse.”</p> +<p>“And of what”—Chirpy Cricket stammered—“of +what, pray, does your own +fiddling remind you?”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Tommy. “My own music is +like nothing in the world except the sound +of a shimmering moonbeam.”</p> +<p>There is no doubt that Tommy Tree +Cricket thought very well of his own fiddling.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_A_LONG_WAIT' id='XVI_A_LONG_WAIT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<h3>A LONG WAIT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chirpy cricket was so good-natured that +he wouldn’t quarrel with his cousin, +Tommy Tree Cricket. Although Tommy +had said bluntly that Chirpy’s fiddling reminded +him of Farmer Green’s creaking +pump, Chirpy made no disagreeable answer. +He did not want to hurt his pale +cousin’s feelings.</p> +<p>After making his rude remark Tommy +Tree Cricket began his <i>re-teat! re-teat! +re-teat!</i> once more. He shuffled his wings +together at a faster rate than ever, as if +he had to furnish all the music for the +night. As before, he seemed to have forgotten +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +all about his caller; for Chirpy still +waited beneath the raspberry bush where +Tommy Tree Cricket was fiddling.</p> +<p>But if Tommy paid no heed to Chirpy, +there was a reason why. Near Tommy sat +a pale young miss of his own sort, who +listened with great enjoyment to his playing. +Or at least she acted as if she thought +it the most beautiful music in the whole +world.</p> +<p>Tommy Tree Cricket was not so intent +upon his fiddling that he couldn’t roll his +eyes towards his fair listener. And +Chirpy was not slow to understand that it +was for her that Tommy was playing his +<i>re-teat! re-teat! re-teat!</i></p> +<p>“I’ll wait here until he rests,” Chirpy +said to himself. “Then I’ll ask him again +what he knows about Mr. Mole Cricket.”</p> +<p>Well, Chirpy waited and waited. But +it seemed to him that as the night lengthened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +Tommy Tree Cricket fiddled all the +faster. And if the weather hadn’t turned +colder along toward morning probably he +wouldn’t have had a chance to speak to +Tommy again.</p> +<p>Anyhow, a cool wind began to whip +around the side of Blue Mountain and +sweep through Pleasant Valley. And the +moment it struck Tommy Tree Cricket +he began to play more slowly. Little by +little a longer pause crept between his +<i>re-teats</i>. And at last the pale miss beside +him cried, “I hope you’re not going +to stop your beautiful fiddling!”</p> +<p>“I fear I’ll have to,” Tommy told her +with a sigh. “I’m beginning to feel a +bit stiff, with this north wind blowing on +me.”</p> +<p>This was Chirpy Cricket’s chance.</p> +<p>“Please!” he called. “Will you listen +to me a moment?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>“What! Have you come back again?” +Tommy Tree Cricket sang out.</p> +<p>“No! I’ve been here all the time,” +Chirpy explained. “I’ve been waiting for +hours to have a talk with you.”</p> +<p>“Very well!” Tommy answered. “It’s +too cold for me to fiddle any more. So +talk away! And you’d better be quick +about it, for the night’s almost gone.”</p> +<p>But somehow Chirpy Cricket felt that +his chat could wait a little longer. If the +pale young person clinging to the raspberry +bush near Tommy Tree Cricket +loved music, he thought it was a pity to +disappoint her.</p> +<p>“You may feel too cold to fiddle; but +I don’t!” Chirpy said. “I’m quite warm +down here on the ground. This little hollow +where I’m sitting is sheltered from +the wind. So I’ll fiddle for your friend.” +As he spoke he began to play. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>Looks as of great pain came over the +pale faces of his two listeners in the raspberry +bush. And they shuddered so violently +that they had to cling tightly to their +seats to keep from falling.</p> +<p>“My friend thanks you. But she says +she doesn’t care for your fiddling,” +Tommy Tree Cricket called down to +Chirpy. “She says it’s too squeaky.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket was fiddling so hard by +that time that he never heard a word. And +when he stopped at last, to rest a bit, a +voice cried out, “That’s fine! Won’t you +play some more?”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket was pleased. He +thought, of course, that it was Tommy’s +friend speaking to him. But when he +looked up he couldn’t see her anywhere—nor +her companion either.</p> +<p>They had both disappeared. And it was +already gray in the east.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_SITTING_ON_A_LILYPAD' id='XVII_SITTING_ON_A_LILYPAD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<h3>SITTING ON A LILY-PAD</h3> +</div> + +<p>Though Chirpy Cricket looked all around +with great care, he couldn’t discover who +had spoken to him. A voice from somewhere +had called out that his music was +fine and asked him if he wouldn’t play +some more.</p> +<p>Whoever the owner of the voice might +be, it was plain that he liked music. So +without knowing for whom he was playing, +Chirpy began to fiddle again. And +when he stopped the same voice cried, +“Thank you very much!”</p> +<p>Now, the duck-pond was near-by. And +at first Chirpy hadn’t thought of looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +there for his listener. But the second +time he heard the voice he guessed that it +came from the pond. So Chirpy leaped +to the water’s edge; and there, sitting on +a lily-pad, was the tiniest Frog he had ever +seen. He seemed no bigger than Chirpy +himself.</p> +<p>“How do you do!” Chirpy said to him. +“Was it you that spoke to me?”</p> +<p>“Yes!” the stranger said. “I’ve been +enjoying your music. And I’m glad to +meet you. It’s time we knew each other, +living as we do in the same neighborhood. +My name is Mr. Cricket Frog. And may +I inquire what yours is?”</p> +<p>“I’m called Chirpy Cricket,” said the +fiddler on the bank. “Is it possible—do +you think—that we are cousins?”</p> +<p>“No!” said Mr. Cricket Frog. “No! +I belong to a branch of the well-known +Tree Frog family. But somehow I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +never cared to live in trees. Indeed, I’ve +never climbed a tree in all my life.”</p> +<p>“You’re a sensible person!” Chirpy +Cricket cried. He did not know that the +reason why Mr. Cricket Frog stayed on +the ground was because his feet were not +suited to climbing trees. He couldn’t have +got up a tree if he had tried. “Aren’t you +afraid of falling off that lily-pad into the +water?” Chirpy asked his new friend. +“It seems to me you haven’t picked out a +safe place at all.”</p> +<p>He had scarcely finished speaking when +he had a great fright. For Mr. Cricket +Frog did not answer him. Instead he +leaped suddenly into the air. And Chirpy +Cricket feared that he would fall into the +water and be drowned. But when Mr. +Cricket Frog came down again he landed +squarely upon another lily-pad.</p> +<p>“I caught him,” he said pleasantly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket had no idea what he +was talking about.</p> +<p>“Whom did you catch?” he asked.</p> +<p>“The fly!” Mr. Cricket Frog replied.</p> +<p>“Don’t you think you took a great risk, +leaping above the water like that?” +Chirpy inquired. “Aren’t you worried +for fear you’ll fall into the pond some day, +if you jump for flies in that careless fashion?”</p> +<p>Mr. Cricket Frog tried not to smile.</p> +<p>“Bless you!” he exclaimed. “I spend +half my time in the water. Please don’t +think I’m boasting when I say I’m a fine +swimmer. You’ll understand why when +you look at my feet.” And he held up a +foot so that Chirpy Cricket might see it.</p> +<p>Chirpy noticed that there were webs between +Mr. Cricket Frog’s toes. And +everybody knows that webbed feet are the +best for swimming. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>Mr. Cricket Frog wanted to be agreeable. +“Would you like to see me swim?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, thank you!” Chirpy replied.</p> +<p>So Mr. Cricket Frog leaped nimbly +into the water and began to swim among +the lily-pads while Chirpy watched him +and admired his skill.</p> +<p>All at once Chirpy heard a splash. And +he was just about to ask Mr. Cricket Frog +what it could be, when he noticed something +queer about his new friend. He was +no longer swimming. He was floating, motionless, +upon the water. Not by a single +movement of any kind did he show that +he was alive.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_MR_CRICKET_FROG_S_TRICK' id='XVIII_MR_CRICKET_FROG_S_TRICK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<h3>MR. CRICKET FROG’S TRICK</h3> +</div> + +<p>“What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” +Chirpy Cricket called to Mr. Cricket Frog +from the bank of the duck-pond. Ever +since a splash near-by had interrupted +their talk, Mr. Cricket Frog had not swum +a single stroke. He was floating, motionless, +upon the surface of the water. And +he made no reply whatever to Chirpy’s +questions. He acted exactly as if he had +not heard them. The fitful breeze caught +at Mr. Cricket Frog’s limp form and +wafted it about.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket couldn’t help being +alarmed. And yet he almost thought, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +a moment, that he saw Mr. Cricket Frog’s +eyes rolling in his direction, as he stood +on the bank of the pond. If Mr. Cricket +Frog was in trouble, Chirpy knew of no +way to help him. And after a time he +made up his mind that Mr. Cricket Frog +was beyond anybody’s help. Chirpy was +about to go back to the farmyard when Mr. +Cricket Frog came suddenly to life.</p> +<p>“Meet me here to-morrow!” he called. +Then he dived to the bottom of the water. +And Chirpy Cricket went home, thinking +that it was all very queer.</p> +<p>“What happened to you yesterday?” +Chirpy asked Mr. Cricket Frog, when he +came back to the duck-pond the following +day and found that spry little gentleman +waiting for him on a lily-pad. “Were you +ill?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” Mr. Cricket Frog answered. +“When I heard a splash behind me I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +didn’t know who made it. So I played +dead for a while. And after waiting until +I felt somewhat safer, I went down to the +bottom of the pond and hid in the mud. +I’ve found that it’s always wise to attract +as little attention as possible when I don’t +know who’s lurking about.... I hope +you didn’t think I was rude,” he added.</p> +<p>“No!” Chirpy told him. “But I’ve +been upset ever since I saw you. I haven’t +had the heart to fiddle.”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” Mr. Cricket Frog cried. +“I must do something to cheer you up. +I’ll sing you a song!” Then Mr. Cricket +Frog puffed out his yellow throat and began +to sing. And he gave Chirpy Cricket +a great surprise. For his singing was so +like Chirpy’s fiddling that Chirpy thought +for a moment he was making the sound +himself.</p> +<p>But there was one marked difference. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +Mr. Cricket Frog’s time was not like his. +It was not regular. Mr. Cricket Frog began +to sing somewhat slowly and gradually +sang faster and faster. After he had +sung about thirty notes he would pause +to get his breath. And then he would begin +again, exactly as before.</p> +<p>Mr. Cricket Frog hadn’t sung long before +Chirpy’s spirits began to rise. Indeed, +he soon felt so cheerful that he began +to fiddle. And between the two they +made such a chirping that an old drake +swam across the duck-pond to see what +was going on.</p> +<p>Of course, his curiosity put an end to +the concert. Mr. Cricket Frog saw him +coming. And this time he didn’t stop to +play dead. He sank in a great hurry to +the bottom of the pond.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket wondered why his friend +chose to stay in a place where there were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +so many interruptions. “I should think,” +he said to himself, “Mr. Cricket Frog +would rather live in a hole in the ground, +as I do.... I must ask him, when I see +him again, why he doesn’t move to the +farmyard.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cricket Frog was very polite, later, +when Chirpy spoke to him about moving. +But he explained that he was too fond of +swimming to do that. And besides, he +thought his voice sounded better on water +than it did on land.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_IT_WASN_T_THUNDER' id='XIX_IT_WASN_T_THUNDER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<h3>IT WASN’T THUNDER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Quite often, during the nightly concerts +in which Chirpy Cricket took part, he had +noticed an odd cry, <i>Peent! Peent!</i> which +seemed to come from the woods. And +sometimes there followed from the same +direction a hollow, booming sound, as if +somebody were amusing himself by blowing +across the bung-hole of an empty barrel.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket had a great curiosity to +know who made those queer noises. He +asked everybody he met about them. And +at last Kiddie Katydid told him that it +was Mr. Nighthawk that he had heard. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>“He seems to think he’s a musician,” +said Chirpy Cricket. “But I must say I +don’t care much for his music. He’s not +what you might call a steady player. And +his notes are not shrill enough for my liking. +Perhaps he lacks training. I’d be +glad to take him in hand and see what I +could do with him. Tell me! Does he ever +visit our neighborhood?”</p> +<p>“Not often!” said Kiddie Katydid. “I +met him here once. And that was enough +for me. I never felt more uncomfortable +in all my life.” He shuddered as he spoke +and looked over his shoulder.</p> +<p>Somehow Chirpy Cricket did not share +Kiddie Katydid’s uneasiness. The more +he thought about Mr. Nighthawk the more +he wanted to meet him.</p> +<p>“If you ever see Mr. Nighthawk again +I wish you’d tell him I want to talk with +him,” Chirpy said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>“I’ll do so,” Kiddie Katydid promised. +“And now let me give you a bit of advice. +When you meet Mr. Nighthawk, keep +perfectly still. He’s a hungry fellow, always +on the look-out for somebody to eat. +But he has one peculiar habit: he won’t +grab you unless you’re moving through +the air. He always takes his food on the +wing.”</p> +<p>Chirpy thanked his friend Kiddie Katydid +for this valuable bit of news. And he +said he’d be sure to remember it.</p> +<p>“Well,” Kiddie Katydid observed, “if +you forget it when you meet Mr. Nighthawk +you’ll forget it only once. For he’ll +grab you quick as a flash.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket pondered a good deal +over the talk he had with Kiddie Katydid. +It was clear that Mr. Nighthawk was a +dangerous person. “Perhaps”—Chirpy +thought—“perhaps if I could get him to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +take a greater interest in his music he +wouldn’t be so ferocious. Yes! I feel +sure that if I could only persuade him to +practice that booming sound it would give +Mr. Nighthawk something pleasant to +think of. Who knows but that he might +become as gentle as I am?”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket liked that notion so +much that he thought of little else. He +even began to consider making a journey +to the woods where Mr. Nighthawk lived, +in order to meet that gentleman and offer +to train him to be a better musician. And +at last Chirpy had even decided to go—as +soon as the moon should be full. He spent +much of his time listening for Mr. Nighthawk’s +<i>Peent! Peent!</i> which now and then +came faintly across the meadow, and the +dull, muffled <i>boom</i> that often followed.</p> +<p>While Chirpy waited for the moon to +grow full, one night an odd thing happened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +The stars twinkled overhead. +There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Yet all +at once a loud <i>boom</i> startled Chirpy +Cricket and made him leap suddenly towards +home.</p> +<p>“Goodness!” he cried to Kiddie Katydid, +who happened to be near him. “Did +you hear the thunder?”</p> +<p>“That wasn’t thunder,” Kiddie said. +“And you’d better not jump like that +again. Mr. Nighthawk is here. He made +that sound himself.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_BOUND_TO_BE_DIFFERENT' id='XX_BOUND_TO_BE_DIFFERENT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +<h2>XX</h2> +<h3>BOUND TO BE DIFFERENT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Nothing ever surprised Chirpy Cricket +more than what Kiddie Katydid told him. +He had thought it was thunder that he +had just heard. But it was Mr. Nighthawk, +making that odd, booming sound of +his. It was ever so much louder than +Chirpy had supposed it could be. He had +never heard it so near before.</p> +<p>For a moment Chirpy thought that perhaps +Kiddie Katydid didn’t know what +he was talking about. But no! There +was Mr. Nighthawk’s well-known call, +<i>Peent! Peent!</i> There was no denying that +it was his voice. He always talked through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +his nose—or so it sounded. And one +couldn’t mistake it.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket began to think that after +all he would rather not have a talk with +Mr. Nighthawk. He certainly sounded +terrible!</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Nighthawk alighted in +a tree right over Chirpy’s head, and settled +himself lengthwise along a limb. He +was, indeed, an odd person. He liked to +be different from other folk. And just +because other birds sat crosswise on a +perch, Mr. Nighthawk had to sit in exactly +the opposite fashion. No doubt if +he could have, he would have hung underneath +the limb by his heels, like Benjamin +Bat. Only he would have wanted to hang +by his nose instead of his heels, in order +to be different.</p> +<p>“Has anybody seen Chirpy Cricket?” +Mr. Nighthawk sang out. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p> +<p>“He’s on the ground, under that tree +you’re in,” Kiddie Katydid informed him. +Kiddie never moved as he spoke, but clung +closely to a twig in the bush where he was +hiding. Being green himself, he hardly +thought that Mr. Nighthawk would be +able to discover him amongst shrubbery +of the same color.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket wished that Kiddie +Katydid hadn’t replied to Mr. Nighthawk +at all. But how could Kiddie know that +Chirpy had changed his mind? And now +Mr. Nighthawk spoke to Chirpy.</p> +<p>“I can’t see you very well, Mr. Cricket,” +he said. “Won’t you leap into the air a +few times, so I can get a good look at you? +I’ve heard that you’ve been wanting to +meet me. And I’ve come all the way from +the woods just to please you.”</p> +<p>Luckily Chirpy Cricket did not forget +Kiddie Katydid’s advice. Kiddie had explained +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +to him how Mr. Nighthawk caught +his meals on the wing.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to excuse me,” Chirpy told +Mr. Nighthawk. “I’d rather not do any +jumping for you. That wasn’t why I +wanted to meet you.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said Mr. Nighthawk. “Then +why—pray—did you wish to see me?”</p> +<p>“I thought”—Chirpy Cricket replied—“I +thought that perhaps you’d like me to +help you with your music. I’ve often +heard your booming at a distance. And it +has seemed to me that you have the making +of a good musician, if you have a good +teacher.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nighthawk sniffed. It must be remembered +that he was not very gentlemanly.</p> +<p>“I’ve had plenty of training,” he said. +“I didn’t come all the way from the woods +to be told that I don’t know my own business. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +I practice every night. And I flatter +myself that I’m a perfect performer.”</p> +<p>“Then,” said Chirpy Cricket, “perhaps +you need a new fiddle. For there’s +no doubt that your booming would sound +much better if it were shriller.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nighthawk gave a rude laugh.</p> +<p>“I don’t make that sound with a fiddle,” +he sneered. “Don’t you know a +wind instrument when you hear it?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_MR_NIGHTHAWK_EXPLAINS' id='XXI_MR_NIGHTHAWK_EXPLAINS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +<h2>XXI</h2> +<h3>MR. NIGHTHAWK EXPLAINS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Nighthawk appeared to think it a +great joke on Chirpy Cricket, because +Chirpy had thought he played the fiddle. +He laughed in a most disagreeable fashion. +And he kept repeating that people +who didn’t know a wind instrument when +they heard it couldn’t know much about +music.</p> +<p>As for Chirpy, he didn’t know just what +to say. But at last he managed to stammer +that he hoped he hadn’t offended Mr. +Nighthawk.</p> +<p>“Not at all!” Mr. Nighthawk told him. +“This is the funniest thing I’ve heard for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +a long time. It was worth coming all the +way from the woods to enjoy a laugh over +it.”</p> +<p>Of course it was very rude for Mr. +Nighthawk to speak in such a way. But +he was never polite to any of the smaller +field-people, unless he happened to be +coaxing them to jump, so that he might +grab them when they were in the air. You +may be sure he was as meek as he could +be if he happened to meet Solomon Owl. +But at that moment Solomon was far off +in the hemlock woods. Only a short time +before Mr. Nighthawk had heard his rolling +call in the distance. So he felt quite +safe in bullying so gentle a creature as +Chirpy Cricket.</p> +<p>Thinking that he ought to be polite to +his caller, rude as he was, Chirpy asked +Mr. Nighthawk if he wouldn’t kindly play +something. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></p> +<p>“I don’t care if I do,” said Mr. Nighthawk—meaning +that he <i>did</i> care, and that +he <i>would</i> play something. But it was not +because he wanted to oblige anybody. He +was proud of his booming. And he was +only too glad of a chance to show Chirpy +Cricket how loud he could make it sound.</p> +<p>“Stay right there in that tree, if you +will!” Chirpy said. “I won’t move. I’ll +sit here and listen.”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha!” Mr. Nighthawk laughed. “I +<i>knew</i> you didn’t know anything about +wind instruments. When I make that +booming sound I’m always on the wing. +I’m going to take a flight now. And when +I come back you’ll hear a noise that is a +noise—and not a squeaky chirp.”</p> +<p>Then Mr. Nighthawk left his perch +and climbed up into the sky. And when +he had risen high enough to suit him he +dropped like a stone. It seemed to Chirpy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +Cricket that he had never heard anything +so loud as the <i>boom</i> that broke not far +above his head soon afterward. At the +very moment when it looked as if Mr. +Nighthawk must dash himself to pieces +upon the ground, right where Chirpy +Cricket crouched and trembled, he had +spread his wings and checked his fall. It +was the air, rushing through his wing-feathers +with great force, that made the +queer, hollow sound. That was why Mr. +Nighthawk claimed that he made the +booming on a wind instrument.</p> +<p>“There!” he said, when he had settled +himself in the tree once more. “If you +think you can teach me to perform better, +just try that trick yourself!”</p> +<p>But Chirpy Cricket said that he was +sure Mr. Nighthawk’s performance +couldn’t be bettered by anybody. And he +remarked that the noise reminded him of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +a high wind coming on top of a thunder +storm.</p> +<p>That pleased Mr. Nighthawk.</p> +<p>“It’s the greatest praise I’ve ever had!” +he declared. And before Chirpy Cricket +knew what had happened, Mr. Nighthawk +had flown away.</p> +<p>Chirpy often wondered why he left so +suddenly. The truth was that Mr. Nighthawk +had hurried back to the woods to tell +his wife what Chirpy Cricket had said to +him. And ever afterward he was fond of +repeating Chirpy’s remark, in a boasting +way, until his neighbors were heartily +tired of hearing it.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_HARMLESS_MR_MEADOW_MOUSE' id='XXII_HARMLESS_MR_MEADOW_MOUSE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<h3>HARMLESS MR. MEADOW MOUSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>One night when Chirpy Cricket was fiddling +his prettiest, not far from the fence +between the farmyard and the meadow, he +had a queer feeling, as if somebody were +gazing at him. And glancing up quickly, +he saw that a plump person sat on a fence-rail, +busily engaged in staring at him.</p> +<p>“How-dy do!” Chirpy Cricket piped; +for the fat, four-legged person looked both +cheerful and harmless. “I take it you’re +fond of music.”</p> +<p>The stranger, whose name was Mr. +Meadow Mouse, smiled. “I won’t dispute +your statement,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“Perhaps you play some instrument +yourself,” Chirpy observed.</p> +<p>But Mr. Meadow Mouse shook his head.</p> +<p>“No!” he replied. “No! To tell the +truth, I haven’t much time for that sort of +thing. Besides, it seems to me somewhat +dangerous. I was wondering, while I +watched you, whether you weren’t likely +to fiddle yourself into bits—you were +working so hard.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket assured him that there +wasn’t the least danger.</p> +<p>“All my family are famous fiddlers,” he +said. “And I’ve never heard of such an +accident happening to any of them.”</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse appeared to be +slightly disappointed.</p> +<p>“I thought,” he said, “I could pick up +the pieces for you, in case you fell apart.”</p> +<p>Dark as he was, Chirpy Cricket almost +turned pale. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>“You—you weren’t intending to—to +swallow the pieces, were you?” he stammered.</p> +<p>“Dear me! No!” Mr. Meadow Mouse +gasped. “I’m what’s known as a vegetarian.”</p> +<p>Well, when he heard that, Chirpy +Cricket made ready to jump out of the +stranger’s way. He didn’t know what a +vegetarian was; but it sounded terrible to +him.</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse must have guessed +that Chirpy was uneasy. Anyhow, he +hastened to explain that a vegetarian was +one that ate only food that grew on plants +of one kind or another.</p> +<p>“I live for the most part on seeds and +grain,” he said. “So you see I’m quite +harmless.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket told him that he was +glad to know it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“I’m a vegetarian myself,” he added +proudly, “for I eat blades of grass. And +you see I’m harmless too.”</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse bestowed another +fat smile on him.</p> +<p>“Then,” he said, “it must be quite safe +for me to stay here and talk with you.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket didn’t know why the +plump gentleman was smiling, unless it +was because he felt easy in his mind. +Chirpy couldn’t help liking him, he was so +friendly.</p> +<p>“I’ll play my favorite tune for you, if +you wish,” Chirpy offered, being eager to +do something pleasant for his new acquaintance.</p> +<p>“Do!” said Mr. Meadow Mouse. “And +make it as lively as you please. For I’ve +just dined well and I’m in a very cheerful +mood.”</p> +<p>So Chirpy Cricket began his <i>cr-r-r-i!</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +<i>cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!</i> while Mr. Meadow Mouse +moved nearer and watched him closely. +After a time he began to fidget. And at +last he asked Chirpy if he wouldn’t please +be still for a moment, because there was +something he wanted to say.</p> +<p>Chirpy stopped fiddling.</p> +<p>“I notice,” said Mr. Meadow Mouse, +“that you’re having some trouble tuning +up your fiddle. So if you don’t mind I’ll +go over in the cornfield on a matter of business +and come back here later. Then, no +doubt, you’ll be all ready to play a tune +for me.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket had to explain that he +had been playing a tune all the time—that +he always played on one note.</p> +<p>So Mr. Meadow Mouse stayed and heard +more of the fiddling. He begged Chirpy’s +pardon for his mistake. And he said that +if he only had a fiddle he should like to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +learn the same tune himself. “Although,” +he added, “it must be very difficult to play +always on the same note. It must take a +great deal of practice.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_A_WAIL_IN_THE_DARK' id='XXIII_A_WAIL_IN_THE_DARK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +<h2>XXIII</h2> +<h3>A WAIL IN THE DARK</h3> +</div> + +<p>There was an odd cry that often interrupted +the nightly concerts of the Cricket +family. Chirpy Cricket had never heard +it in the daytime. But when twilight began +to wrap Pleasant Valley in its shadows, +the strange, wailing call was almost +sure to come quavering through the air. +Somehow it always sent a shiver over +Chirpy. And sometimes it made him lose +a few notes—if he happened to be fiddling +when he heard it.</p> +<p>He learned that it was a dangerous bird +known as Simon Screecher—a cousin of +Solomon Owl—that made this uncanny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +call. If he had lived, like Solomon, across +the meadow in the hemlock woods, Chirpy +Cricket would have paid less heed to the +noise he made. But Simon Screecher had +his home in a hollow apple tree in Farmer +Green’s orchard.</p> +<p>It was said—by those that claimed to +know—that Simon Screecher slept in the +daytime. But every tiny night-creature—the +Katydids and the Crickets and all the +rest—knew that after sunset Simon +Screecher was as wide awake as anybody.</p> +<p>It was no wonder that Chirpy Cricket +was always uneasy when Simon screeched +his warning that he was awake and looking +for his supper. Chirpy knew that he +could not depend on Simon to stay long +in one place. Though you heard his +screech in the orchard one moment, you +might see him in the farmyard soon afterward. +He never ate a whole meal in just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +one spot, but preferred to move about +wherever his fancy took him. Simon +himself said that he could eat off and on all +night long, if he kept moving.</p> +<p>Somehow Mr. Meadow Mouse had heard +of this saying of Simon Screecher’s. +“You ought to crawl into your hole under +the straw whenever Simon Screecher is +about the neighborhood,” he advised +Chirpy one evening, when the two chanced +to meet near the fence.</p> +<p>“But Simon is around here every +night,” Chirpy replied. “If I stayed at +home from dusk till dawn I couldn’t take +part in another concert all summer long.”</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse said that that would +be a great pity.</p> +<p>“Don’t you suppose”—Chirpy asked +him hopefully—“don’t you suppose I +could jump out of Simon Screecher’s +reach if he tried to catch me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>“You could find out by trying,” said +Mr. Meadow Mouse.</p> +<p>So Chirpy Cricket began to feel more +cheerful. He even fiddled a bit, thinking +that he had no special reason to worry. +And then all at once he stopped making +music.</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse had been searching +about on the ground for seeds, while he +was enjoying Chirpy’s fiddling. And +when the music came to a sudden end he +looked up and saw that something was +troubling the fiddler.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter now?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“An unpleasant idea has just come into +my head,” Chirpy told him. “It would +be very unlucky for me if I found that I +wasn’t spry enough to escape Simon +Screecher!”</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse had to admit that +there was a good deal of truth in Chirpy’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +remark. But he said he was ready with +another suggestion. “It’s a good one, +too,” he declared.</p> +<p>“What is it?” Chirpy asked him.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to think of some other +way”—said Mr. Meadow Mouse—“some +other way of being safe from Simon +Screecher.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_FRIGHTENING_SIMON_SCREECHER' id='XXIV_FRIGHTENING_SIMON_SCREECHER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +<h2>XXIV</h2> +<h3>FRIGHTENING SIMON SCREECHER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse acted as if he thought +he had been a great help when he said that +Chirpy Cricket would have to think of +another way to avoid Simon Screecher’s +cruel talons. But the more Chirpy turned +the matter over in his mind the further he +seemed to be from any plan. For several +days and nights he puzzled over his problem. +And every time he heard Simon +Screecher’s unearthly wail he shivered so +hard that his fiddling actually seemed to +shiver too.</p> +<p>Mr. Meadow Mouse inquired regularly +whether Chirpy had hit upon any plan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +And at last Mr. Meadow Mouse announced +that he would have to think of one himself. +So he sat down and looked very wise, +while Chirpy Cricket fiddled for him, because +Mr. Meadow Mouse explained that +his wits always worked better when somebody +made music for him.</p> +<p>“Didn’t you notice his cry a little while +ago?” Mr. Meadow Mouse asked. “Didn’t +you notice how his voice trembled?”</p> +<p>“Yes!” Chirpy said. “Yes! Now that +you speak of it, I remember that his voice +shook a good deal.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” Mr. Meadow Mouse exclaimed. +“Something had frightened him. Now, +you had just begun to fiddle before he cried +out. And there’s no doubt in my mind +that your music scared Simon Screecher. +So all you need do to feel safe from him +is to fiddle a plenty every night.”</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket felt so happy all at once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +that he began a lively tune. And sure +enough! Simon Screecher squalled almost +immediately.</p> +<p>“That proves it!” Mr. Meadow Mouse +exclaimed. And then he said good evening +and ran off to the place where +Farmer Green had been threshing oats, +feeling very well pleased with himself.</p> +<p>Chirpy Cricket took pains to follow +Mr. Meadow Mouse’s advice. And neither +Simon Screecher—nor his cousin Solomon +Owl—troubled Chirpy all the rest of the +summer. He fiddled the nights away with +more pleasure than ever before. And by +the time fall came all his neighbors agreed +that he had done even more than his part +to make the summer gay for everybody.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>THE END</p> +</div> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-cvr.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 331px; height: 470px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 331px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Front Cover</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-ifc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 500px; height: 384px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 500px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Inside Front Cover</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-ibc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 500px; height: 365px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 500px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Inside Back Cover</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25943-h.txt or 25943-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/4/25943">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/9/4/25943</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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